To her left, on a smaller chair set a slight distance apart, sits Lia Mara. After days in the woods, I’d forgotten how her red hair shines in the light, how her lips always look like they are keeping a secret that she’ll share when the time is right. She looks lovely and warm and honest, and I wish with all my might that I could draw her down off the dais to stand beside me.
She will not meet my eyes.
You are a prince, and I am not a princess.
I didn’t fully understand before. Now I do.
Karis Luran stares down at me. “I never thought to look down on a guardsman turned prince,” she says. “Such a turn of events to benefit you.”
The words sound like a compliment, but they are measured and weighed to remind me of my place. Luckily I spent years serving the royal family of Emberfall. I spent an eternity serving Rhen. She can try her best, but I doubt she’d come close to the nonsense I’ve endured.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I say evenly. “I never thought to look at you as a potential ally. How fate bewitches us all.”
She smiles thinly. “You are more polite than your younger brother.”
A jolt goes through me at the word brother, but I know better than to let it show. “Let us blame my common upbringing.”
She laughs out loud at that, and this time her smile looks a bit more genuine. “I think I like you better, too.” Her gaze shifts past me, to where Jake stands by my shoulder. “Is this Prince Jacob of Disi at your side?” she says. “Have you secured an alliance as well?”
I do not know if she is mocking me or trying to see if I would try to con her the way Rhen did, but either way, it does not matter. She suspects the truth—or likely knows the truth, if Lia Mara has spoken of our journey. “Disi was a farce to rally the people of Emberfall against your invasion.”
Nolla Verin gasps out loud and whispers something to her mother.
I keep my eyes on Karis Luran. “Jake is a formidable ally in his own right.”
“Indeed.” She smiles. “We shall see.”
That could mean anything.
“How fares the scraver we traveled with?” I say to her. “What has become of him?”
Her eyes glint with intrigue. “He has broken an accord with Syhl Shallow, Your Highness. He will be confined until I deem it appropriate to meet with him.”
Again, I do not know if she is conceding something by offering me a title, or if she is mocking me—but all I can think of is Iisak, caged again.
“You seem concerned,” says Karis Luran.
“He helped save my life,” I say. “And that of your daughter.” I pause. “I do not know of your treaty, but I believe he is due leniency.”
She flicks a hand. “I will consider your words, but I do not wish to speak of that creature.”
“As you say, Your Majesty.” I offer her a nod.
Her gaze sharpens. Silver hell. A minor deferral, but she noticed.
Her lip curls up slightly. “I am certain you know we have sought an alliance with Prince Rhen.”
“I do.”
“As he is not the rightful heir, I presume we should seek this alliance with you.”
“I am willing to hear your terms.”
“You do realize I have far more to offer you than you have to offer me. I understand you arrived at my border with little more than the clothes on your back.”
“Do you have another heir to the throne of Emberfall who is willing to hear your terms? I thought I might be the only one.”
She goes very still. “Do not play with me, boy.”
I hear the edge in her tone and find my own to match. “I am not Prince Rhen, and I am not King Broderick,” I say. “Whatever sway you held over either does not apply to me. I may have walked into your palace with nothing, but that means I have nothing you can take from me.”
“I can take your life,” she snaps.
“Prince Rhen already tried,” I say. “Send a message to your spy. Ask the result. I will wait.”
She draws herself up, but I am more aware of Lia Mara sitting to the side, her eyes wide and fixed on me. When my eyes flick to hers, she looks away.
I turn back to Karis Luran and take a step toward the dais. “I do not seek silver, and I do not seek power. If I am to take the throne, if I am to ally with Syhl Shallow, it will be for the betterment of my people and the betterment of Emberfall. For no other reason. If you would like to discuss an alliance, we will face each other as equals, and we will negotiate our shared goals. But if you believe you can place a crown on my head and wield me as your puppet, you are very mistaken indeed.”
Karis Luran sits back in her chair and regards me. After a moment she leans toward her younger daughter.
Nolla Verin stands, and she is more slender than her sister, with a slight frame and a narrow waist accentuated by a wide belt. Her hips sway as she approaches me. She may be quick with a bow and amazing on a horse, but she wouldn’t have carried that buck ten feet.
Not just because of strength, though that’s some of it. Because of temperament. Her gaze is coolly dismissive. She might have shot the stag, but she would have ordered others to carry it.
Lia Mara may not be the named heir, but she is still the daughter of the queen. Until now, I hadn’t realized that in all our time in the woods, she never issued one order. She never made a single demand.
She sat in the mud to hold a dying woman’s hand and begged me to save her life.
Nolla Verin extends a hand to me. “I am to be queen,” she says, and even her voice is beautiful, soft and melodic. She leans into me, gazing up through her lashes. “I do not need a king to rule Syhl Shallow, just as you need no queen to rule Emberfall. But I hope that together we can prove to both our peoples that an alliance through marriage would bring peace and prosperity to all. Do you not agree?”
I take her fingers between mine and bow, as I’ve seen Rhen do so many times, barely brushing my lips against the back of her hand. I must be careful with this one. “We are in agreement, my lady.”
When I straighten, she moves closer, until her hip brushes mine. “I believe we should have a small reception tomorrow evening, to celebrate my sister’s safe return. I would like to introduce you to the Royal Houses, so you can learn all Syhl Shallow has to offer.”
Her hand has not slipped free of my own. “I would be honored.”
“And perhaps we can go for a ride tomorrow morning?” Her voice softens. “Privately?”
That feels like a trap. “Perhaps you can show me some of the mounted games you excel at,” I say. “Your sister spoke very highly of your talents.”
At that, Nolla Verin beams. “She did?” She glances at Lia Mara, and for the first time, genuine warmth fills her tone. “Thank you, dear Sister.”
“Of course.” Lia Mara’s voice, by comparison, is wooden. “Everyone knows of your skills.”
I wish she didn’t have to do this.
I wish I didn’t have to do this.
Nolla Verin looks back up at me, then gives my fingers a squeeze. “Until tomorrow, then, Prince Grey?”
“Yes, my lady. Tomorrow.”
It takes every ounce of my strength to keep my eyes on her face, instead of looking past Nolla Verin to find the warm, inviting eyes of her sister.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
LIA MARA
The next morning dawns cool and clear, the last of the rain moving out, leaving wind roaring through the mountains. Sunlight glitters on the rooftops of the city, highlighting the raindrops left behind by the storm.
I’d hoped to wake to more rain, so Nolla Verin would be forced to postpone the demonstration of her riding skills, but that likely would have resulted in some indoor activity. The thought of my sister giggling over a game of dice, batting her eyelashes at Grey, is enough to make me want to burn down the castle.
All those days in the woods, I longed for the quiet comfort of my bedchamber, where I could hide with a book by the window, but today I am restless. I miss Tycho’s qu
iet humor. I miss Noah’s endless knowledge. I even miss Jake’s surly sarcasm and Iisak’s vicious talents.
Iisak. I do not know my mother’s plans for the scraver, but I do know he was imprisoned before Grey freed him. I wonder how he is handling a return to captivity.
I have new guards waiting at my door. Conys and Bea. Both are female, both stern-faced and cold in their formality. Both chosen by my mother. The warm familiarity I shared with Sorra and Parrish is long gone. I want to find him and apologize. To share in his sorrow. To make things right. Every time I ask to see him, I am told that he has been assigned to other duties on the palace grounds.
Today, I will not ask. I will visit Iisak, and then I will do my best to find Parrish myself. I lace up a belt over my robes, loop my hair into a loose braid, and stride right past my guards without a word.
Conys and Bea fall into step behind me like silent shadows, but they do not question me. I am certain they will report my destination to my mother later, but hopefully she will be too consumed with courting Grey’s consideration of an alliance to worry much about me. She always was in the past.
I deliberately take the longest route through the palace to avoid seeing Nolla Verin and Grey. Or my mother.
Instead, I turn a corner and nearly run straight into Tycho.
He falls back at once and stumbles over his words. “Lia Mara! Ah—forgive me. My lady.” A blush lights his cheeks, and he attempts to bow. “Your—Your Highness?”
He’s so earnest about everything he does that I can’t help but smile. “Tycho. We are friends. Call me Lia Mara.”
His eyes flick to my guards, then back to my face. “Things are different here.”
That statement steals the smile from my face. “Not different between you and me, surely.”
He grins. “As you say.”
“Where were you hurrying off to?”
“Grey asked me to accompany him for his ride with Nolla Verin this morning—”
“Oh.” My lips flatten into a line.
“—but your sister was quite convincing that they should be allowed to get to know each other privately.”
I can imagine the scene perfectly. Nolla Verin would have rapped a riding crop across his knuckles in her effort to be convincing—though she probably wouldn’t do it in front of Grey. “Oh, I am certain she was.”
“Jake was turned away as well, but he said he was going back to bed with Noah.” Another faint blush finds his cheeks.
“Well, if you find yourself without a destination, would you care to escort me to the dungeons?”
His eyebrows go up. “The … dungeons?”
“Yes. I am going to visit Iisak.”
A breath escapes his lips. “Oh. We can see him? Yes. Yes, of course.” Then his eyes widen. “Wait. One moment, please.”
“Certainly.”
He dashes down the hallway to return a few minutes later, looking rushed and flustered. He glances at my guards and stops his fidgeting, then straightens and offers his arm. That is not a custom here, but he is trying so hard, so I take his elbow as I saw ladies do in Emberfall. We walk arm in arm through the quiet torch-lit hallways.
“You look very fine,” I say to him, and mean it. In the woods, he always looked a bit wild, his hair untamed and his eyes shadowed with watchful distrust. Today he is clean, his golden hair combed straight and tied into a queue. The cut of his jacket broadens his shoulders and the boots give him an inch of height, making him look less like a boy and more like a young man.
He glances shyly at me. “Thank you. So do you.”
The stairs are well-lit, but Tycho hesitates before descending at my side. The dungeons are rarely occupied—and in turn, they are rarely guarded. The Stone Prison exists on the western side of Syhl Shallow to hold captives for any length of time. Only one guard waits at the bottom, a grizzly older man with a scar across one eye. He does a double take when he sees me, and stumbles to his feet, but offers little more than a nod and a curious glance. No one in this palace has ever had anything to fear from me.
“Your Highness,” he says in Syssalah. “You have come to the dungeon?” He asks this as though I might be lost.
“Yes,” I say. “I would like to see the scraver.”
The guard grimaces and sucks a breath through his teeth. “He nearly took my arm off when I brought him breakfast. I think you’d be better served upstairs.”
At my side, Tycho’s hand has gone tense on my elbow, and I pat my hand over his fingers. “Iisak saved our lives on more than one occasion. I’ll take my chances with my arm.”
The guard nods and extends a hand toward the cells. “They put him in the last one.”
I start walking, and he calls after me, “Tell that ungrateful creature that he’s got the only one with a window.”
When we reach the cell, I discover that the guard was right: a small window allows light down from near the ceiling. But the cell is by far the smallest, hardly eight feet square, nowhere near enough room for a man, much less a creature with a twelve-foot wingspan. Iisak’s wings are folded in tight against his back, and he reclines in the shadows, his black eyes glittering in the torchlight. An iron bowl is upturned in the opposite corner, food splattered against the rock wall. I consider his diet of raw meat in the woods and wonder what they tried to feed him. It looks like porridge.
I wonder if that was on purpose, then consider the selection of this cell when so many others were available. I consider my mother.
All of this is on purpose.
I wonder what cost she will demand. I wonder if I can find out.
The scraver does not look surprised to see us. “Ungrateful, am I?” he says.
Tycho moves to the bars first. “Are you unwell?”
“I am in a cage, boy. Nothing in a cage is ever truly well.” He bares his teeth at the guards lurking behind me, and I wonder what they would do if I attempted to press my hands against the bars as well.
Tycho dips a hand into his pocket and pulls free a handkerchief. “The servants didn’t leave animal parts in my chambers,” he says wryly, “but I brought you some sweet cakes and meat pies.”
So that is what he went back to his room for.
Iisak looks startled by the offer, and he uncurls from the ground to take the wrapped food from Tycho. Those razor-sharp claws brush against the boy’s fingers with surprising gentleness.
“My thanks.” Iisak withdraws into the shadows again but does not unwrap the food. I wonder if he’ll actually eat it.
“Do not let your kindness make you vulnerable,” Iisak says. Those dark eyes shift to me. “The same advice applies to you, Princess.”
“I am not worried about being vulnerable.”
He smiles sadly. “Then it appears my advice is offered too late.”
Tycho ignores his warnings. “Why are you in the dungeon?” he says. “Will you be harmed?”
“The queen is fond of bargains and debts. She has made it clear that my transgression will be costly. Have no worries, boy. I spent months in a cage. I can be patient.”
“What will it cost?” I say.
He regards me silently in response.
I move closer to the bars, and Bea and Conys move with me, but they do not stop me. “Does she have what you seek?” I ask softly.
His eyes fall closed, and a cool thread of air swirls through the bars. “No.”
No.
He could have made his way home secretly, but he took this chance.
“Are you sure?” Tycho says in a rush. “What if—”
“I am sure,” says Iisak.
“What was it?” I say. “If you tell me, if I can help you—”
“You cannot help me.” He sighs, and a coating of frost appears on the stone wall beside him.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please let me help you.”
“You cannot help me, Princess. Your mother will not yield to you. You know this as well as I do.”
I blush. “I would still try.”
I frown.
Iisak waves a hand. “Enough of bargains and secrets. Where is our young prince?”
I don’t want to think about Grey. I wish so badly that I hadn’t pulled his hands away from my cheeks when we were whispering secrets in the cave.
I wish for so much, and wishing never works. I straighten my back. “Courting my sister. The true princess.”
“Courting?”
“Yes.”
Tycho glances at me, then glances at my guards and says nothing.
“I am not who you should be visiting, then,” says Iisak.
I straighten my shoulders. “The queen would like to secure an alliance with Emberfall. I am certain Grey and Nolla Verin will get along quite well. They are due their privacy.”
Iisak laughs, his fangs glinting in the light. Abruptly, his laugh shifts to a vicious growl I’ve never heard from him, and he pulls back farther into the shadows.
“Lia Mara.” My mother speaks from behind me.
I jump and whirl and all but press my back to the bars. “Yes. Mother.” Tycho looks as shocked as I do. He bows quickly and tries to pull into the shadows himself. I think he would tuck himself into the cell with the scraver if he could.
So would I. My mother’s eyes are full of fire. “My plans for this creature are none of your concern.”
“I thought—I thought I might be able to speak in his favor—”
“No. You may not. He has broken a treaty, and he is aware of the penalty. Return to your chambers at once.”
I grab Tycho’s hand and drag him with me before she can get any other ideas.
As we ascend the stairs, I hear her voice, low and brutal. “My dear, vicious creature. First we will begin with information, and then we will discuss what you can do for me …”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
GREY
I would rather be back in the throne room facing Karis Luran, or back in the gritty arena of the tourney facing Dustan.
I would almost rather be in the courtyard of Ironrose facing Rhen.
A Heart So Fierce and Broken Page 26
