She waited until he looked at her again before saying, “What are you doing traveling through Ravenspire with such a small escort? And why would you bother stopping at a village like this when Nordenberg—which is a far wealthier town—is just north of here and its people are used to nobility—”
Leo nudged her with his elbow and whispered “manners” before giving Kol a huge smile. “Forgive us, my lord, for you have us at a disadvantage. My sister is frankly deplorable at conducting courtly conversation. The only thing worse than her ability to make appropriate small talk with royalty is her attempt to let a man lead her on the dance floor. Your timely interruption has saved me from the chore of attending dance lessons with her. My feet thank you.”
Stepping back from the Eldrians, Lorelai snatched Leo’s shirt and pulled him close so she could whisper, “We aren’t royalty here. We’re supposed to pass as peasants. That means—”
“We aren’t peasants. We’re the Heirs—”
“Not to him. We need to send them on their way and go meet up with Gabril and Sasha to make sure everyone in the village is all right.”
“This is getting weird,” the female Eldrian called out.
Leo flashed her a smile. “It’s our first time meeting royalty in the woods. We really don’t have a precedent to call upon.” Turning to Lorelai, he whispered, “One day Irina won’t be on the throne. You will, with me as your charming and loveable assistant. And when that day comes, you’ll need a working relationship with the king of Eldr. It might be best if he didn’t remember you as the girl who saved his life and was then unspeakably impolite.”
He was right. Plus, she wanted to know why the new king of Eldr was in Ravenspire instead of in his own country where he belonged, and she wasn’t going to get that information without trying to use a little bit of Leo’s charm. Mustering a smile, she let go of her brother’s shirt and stepped toward Kol again. Behind her, Leo whispered “courtly conversation” as she reached one gloved hand toward the king as if offering him a dance.
Kol took her hand in a gentle grip. She looked up and found his amber eyes fixed on hers, while the wind teased his red-brown hair and the sun glowed against his golden skin. The corner of his mouth quirked in a half smile, and heaven help her, every lesson she’d ever learned on proper etiquette for Eldrian royalty flew right out of her brain.
Leo made a sound behind her, and Lorelai realized she’d been stared into Kol’s eyes, her hand resting in his palm, for who knew how long while the king’s escorts frowned at her, waiting for her to break the silence.
She should bow—no curtsy. She was a princess. Princesses curtsied. She should curtsy and say . . . something.
The king’s half smile grew, and he opened his mouth as if to speak. Hastily, Lorelai swept into an elegant curtsy—no small feat considering her current attire—and said the first thing that popped into her head.
“You look most fetching today, my lord.”
The large Eldrian boy snorted. Kol’s eyes widened, and his smile froze. And Leo—curse his miserable hide—made the kind of strangled choking noise that meant he was trying desperately not to laugh.
“Oh no.” Lorelai pulled her hand from Kol’s, her skin prickling with heat from absolute humiliation. Maybe if she prayed hard enough, the forest floor would open up and swallow her. If there was any justice in the world, it would swallow Leo too.
“I . . . thank you?” Kol glanced at his escorts, but they were both smirking at him.
“This is your fault.” Lorelai glared at Leo, who stopped trying to swallow his laughter and sagged against the closest tree trunk so he could truly enjoy her embarrassment. “You and your stupid courtly conversation jokes, and now look what happened.”
“I myself have always found Kol quite fetching.” The Eldrian boy stepped forward and held out a hand twice the size of Lorelai’s. She gingerly placed her hand in his. “I’m Trugg and that beautiful but surly Eldrian is Jyn. We’re both grateful for your help.” His brows rose. “You can call me fetching as well, and then allow me to demonstrate my gratitude by—”
“That’s enough, Trugg,” Kol said. Trugg grinned at Lorelai, his teeth a slash of white against his dark skin.
“Why is the king of Eldr traveling through this part of Ravenspire?” Lorelai asked because even though she’d mangled her attempt at making a good impression as a princess—not that Kol even knew she was a princess—she was determined to get the information that mattered.
“I’m on my way to see your queen. We stopped hoping to find a decent meal and a bed in one of the mountain villages—a mistake I won’t make twice.”
“You’re going to see Queen Irina?” Lorelai stepped back, icy calm washing over her as Leo stopped laughing and moved to her side, his eyes guarded.
“I am.”
Lorelai’s hands slowly closed into fists as magic raced down her veins to gather in her palms. “You said you owed me a debt.”
He inclined his head graciously, though a watchfulness had entered his gaze.
“Then do me a favor and forget any of this ever happened.” She leaned toward him. “Forget this village. Forget my bird. Forget the two of us. Don’t mention any of this to the queen. She punishes those who displease her, and this village has enough problems without adding the queen’s wrath to the list.”
Kol touched his brow again, and said quietly, “I owe you a much greater debt than simply omitting today from my conversation with Irina. You saved our lives.”
She met his gaze. “And by keeping silent, you will save ours.” She glanced at the village again. “Ours and hundreds of others.”
He held out his hand. “You have my word.”
She slowly laid her palm over his. He pulled her closer and slid his hand up her arm to cup her elbow in the traditional Eldrian greeting. Heat unspooled in her stomach, and her heart quickened—a foolish response she had no time for.
Casting about her lessons for a polite way to say good-bye to an Eldrian, she said, “May the skies grant you protection on your journey.”
Kol’s eyes widened as though surprised that she knew the phrasing, but he responded, “And may heaven watch over you on yours.”
She gave him a tiny smile as she pulled away from him and then turned to disappear into the forest with Leo.
“One more word about courtly conversation from you, and it will be the last thing you ever say,” Lorelai said as they hurried through the woods toward the village.
“I wasn’t going to say a thing!” Leo protested as they leaped over a fallen evergreen. “Though I do think the entire conversation was very—”
“Leopold Arlen Wolfgang Diederich, don’t you dare.”
“Fetching.”
She opened her mouth to insult him—not that she could ever think of an insult that could get the best of him—when Sasha’s thoughts arrowed into her own, a silver-quick image of Gabril sagging against the back wall of the pub, blood pouring from a wound in his chest and puddling on the cobblestones at his feet.
The breath left Lorelai’s body, and panic curled through her stomach. Not Gabril. Not like this. Her lips trembled as she started running for the village.
“What are you doing?” Leo demanded as he caught up to her.
A rush of magic burned down Lorelai’s arms, and she clenched her fists. “Gabril is hurt.”
Bleeding fast, fast, fast. Big wound. Sasha’s thoughts darting through Lorelai’s mind, showing Lorelai an image of a crudely made spear lying beside Gabril, its sharp tip covered in blood.
A homemade spear one of the villagers had thought to use against the Eldrians but had used against Gabril instead. Why? Because his wards were helping the Eldrians escape? Because Gabril had tried to stop the mob himself instead of going to the mayor’s wife, Risa, for help?
It didn’t matter how Gabril had been wounded. All that mattered was that they get to him in time to save his life.
Lorelai leaped over a tumble of stones and skidded around an oak wit
h drooping brown leaves still clinging to its branches. Leo sprinted past her, his longer legs eating up the ground. He reached the gate ahead of her, threw the bar to the ground, and heaved it open, his eyes full of the same desperate fear that pounded through Lorelai with every beat of her heart.
Gabril was all the family they had left. He was their surrogate father, their protector, their mentor, and the rock-solid foundation upon which they’d rebuilt their lives.
He was not going to die.
It only took a few moments to run from the north gate to the alley behind the pub, but it felt like forever, the distance stretching endlessly before them while Gabril’s blood poured out of him with every passing second.
Leo reached him first and wrapped his arms around Gabril as the older man stumbled toward him on legs that shook.
“We’ll take him to Risa’s. She can send for the physician,” Lorelai said as she put her arm around Gabril and helped Leo support him.
“The physician left town a month ago,” a woman said from the pub’s doorway.
Lorelai turned to find the owner of the pub standing behind them, her watery blue eyes full of anger.
“Then Risa will know where to find medical supplies.” Lorelai turned away. “Come on, Leo.”
“There be no medical supplies in Tranke. And even if there were, you wouldn’t be getting any of them.” The woman spat on the cobblestones and crossed her arms over her chest as Lorelai turned to stare at her again. “Best be leaving now, girl.”
Magic stung Lorelai’s fingertips, and it took effort to sound calm as she said, “We can’t leave. He’s badly wounded. Risa will know—”
“Risa won’t have anything to do with you after what you just did. Not if she knows what’s good for her.” The woman’s voice was as hard as the look in her eyes.
“But we’ll help you. We’ll get food for the village, I promise. Just as soon as Gabril is stable, we’ll—”
“What good is your promise to help us sometime later on when you just denied us help we need now? You get out of here before I stop telling my husband he doesn’t get to kill all three of you and take your possessions as payment for the Eldrian riches you just stole from us.”
“You think you can kill us?” Leo’s voice vibrated with fury. “Do you have any idea who we are?”
“You’re the fools who chose loyalty to a pack of Eldrian strangers over your own people.” The woman spat again, only this time she aimed the spittle at Lorelai’s feet. “If you aren’t out of this village in the next few minutes, I won’t be held responsible for what happens to you.”
Leo opened his mouth, but Lorelai beat him to it. “We’re leaving. Come on, Leo.”
“But Gabril—”
“Will die if we don’t get out of here.” Lorelai’s hands burned, her power begging for release she wouldn’t give. The woman was right. Lorelai and Leo had taken the possibility of Eldrian riches out of the villager’s hands, and the desperate people in Tranke weren’t concerned with the morality of saving innocent strangers when it meant condemning their children to starve to death.
The only way to help Tranke and villages like it was to step up her plan to take down Irina. Hit another garrison and steal more food. Break loved ones out of dungeons where they were rotting away for the crime of being unable to pay taxes to the queen due to the blight.
But she couldn’t do any of that until she saved Gabril’s life. Without another word to the pub owner, Lorelai and Leo helped Gabril back to their tent outside the village, bandaged his wound as best they could, and then quickly left Tranke behind.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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NINE
“DO YOU HAVE a description of the thieves who robbed my northeast garrison?” Irina’s voice was cold as she turned to face her castle steward. Viktor stood framed in the doorway between her balcony and her sitting room, his pale skin and exquisite cheekbones gleaming in the faint light of dawn.
“Only one was seen—a girl who created a distraction by burning down the stables. She had a gyrfalcon helping her.” His blue eyes were steady as they met hers, but his fingers worried with the perfectly tied cravat at his throat. He hesitated before handing her a piece of parchment with a drawing of the girl.
Irina stared at the drawing, her heart thudded painfully and her chest squeezing until she thought the pain would send her to her knees as she looked into the face of a ghost with long curly dark hair, pale skin, red lips, and brown eyes.
“This can’t be.” Her voice shook. “She’s dead.”
Viktor reached up to brush his fingertips against her cheek. “It could be anyone. If the princess was still alive, we’d have heard something by now. It’s been nine years. This is just some mountain girl who bears a faint resemblance to your sister.”
Her nails dug into the parchment until it tore.
“The garrison is on Kiffen land. A robbery that big required a team of people, which means someone somewhere is talking about it. Lord and Lady Kiffen arrived in the capital yesterday. Bring them to the front gate within the hour. They’ll tell me what they know, or they’ll regret it.”
He caught her hands before she could walk away. “Don’t use magic. Please. I see the strain it causes you. There’s no need to make an example of anyone.”
Because she wanted to lean against his touch the way she always had since she’d been a lonely girl of fourteen and he’d been the impoverished son of the tutor her father had hired, she stepped back and straightened her spine. Met his gaze and drove the warmth from hers until all that was left was the single-minded purpose it took to be queen.
“Never assume that because you sometimes share my bed, you also share my throne. You are dismissed.”
Irina arrived at the castle’s front gate as the sun cut through the morning clouds and bathed the capital in its hazy morning glow. Raz curled around her shoulders, his forked tongue tasting the air as they swept past the guards who stood at attention in a half circle around Lord and Lady Kiffen.
Irina locked eyes with Lady Kiffen, whose puff of gray hair framed a stern brown face with unflinching dark eyes. “A girl helped rob the garrison on your land three days ago. She had a gyrfalcon with her. Who is she?”
“I wouldn’t know, Your Highness.” Lady Kiffen’s voice was steady.
Beside Lady Kiffen, her husband clenched his jaw and stared at his polished boots.
Raz uncoiled himself from Irina’s neck and hissed.
The queen stepped closer. “What rumors do you hear of the thieves?”
Lady Kiffen held her gaze boldly. “I don’t listen to rumors.”
Irina’s smile could cut stone. “Tell me what you’ve heard, or die for your silence.”
Her husband glanced between his wife and the queen and then said, “There are rumors the prince and princess roam the Falkrain Mountains—”
“Frederick, no!” Lady Kiffen whirled to face her husband.
Irina lunged for Lady Kiffen. Snatching the woman’s gown, the queen drove her to her knees. “You dare stop him from answering his queen?” Irina’s voice was lethal.
Lady Kiffen raised her eyes to glare at Irina. “You are not his queen. You are a Morcantian mardushka occupying a throne that isn’t yours.”
Irina leaned down and said quietly, “You have just committed treason, Lady Kiffen.”
Turning to her guards, Irina pointed toward a section of the castle’s wall that stood next to the edge of the apple grove. “Put her there.”
Lord Kiffen threw himself at Irina’s feet, grasped the hem of her gown, and sobbed out, “Please, my queen. Spare my wife, and the Kiffens will be your staunchest allies. I beg of you.”
Irina shook the man free of her skirt and turned to look at the castle, its thin spires and scalloped balconies silhouetted against the dawn sky like slivers of shadows slowly crystallizing into something solid
.
She’d had allies once, or so she’d thought. She’d all but secured a betrothal to the king of Ravenspire, and she had a crowd of admirers who fell over themselves to repeat every word she said as if it were precious gold. But Arlen had broken protocol to ask for her sister’s hand in marriage instead, her uncle had betrayed his eldest niece by agreeing to Arlen’s request, and the crowd of admirers had abandoned Irina for her sister because it was power they truly craved, and Irina suddenly had none.
For ten years, she’d waited. Refusing marriage requests from Morcantian dukes and earls, turning a deaf ear to her uncle’s increasing ire at his niece’s refusal to cooperate, ignoring her father’s complaints that the daughter he’d loved had abandoned him for Ravenspire, and throwing herself wholeheartedly into the kind of dark magic her uncle had long ago forbidden Morcantians to practice.
And when the opportunity came to right the wrongs, to seize the life that should’ve been hers, Irina hadn’t needed her uncle, her father, or a crowd of admirers. She’d only needed herself.
She wasn’t about to falter now.
Irina turned back toward Lady Kiffen, once again shaking off the grasping fingers of the woman’s husband as he begged for mercy. “I have heard your request, Lord Kiffen. Don’t worry. Soon, you will be the most loyal man in my entire kingdom.”
The power in her palms burned like fistfuls of live coals as she walked toward Lady Kiffen. Irina smiled as she met the woman’s defiant gaze.
She moved to the apple tree beside Lady Kiffen and grasped the closest branch. The blight had yet to reach the capital, and the apple’s tree’s heart—soft and light as a summer breeze—surged upward to meet Irina’s palm.
“Rast`lozh.” Her voice was a whiplash of strength and power.
The branches of the tree curled toward Irina, brushed against her skin, and then unfurled and stretched long slender fingers toward Lady Kiffen.
Irina stepped toward the woman, whose eyes were fixed on the apple branches as they grew rapidly, twisting into something that resembled wooden vines with clawlike twigs at the ends. The branches reached the wall, crawled along it, and then slid down to wrap themselves around Lady Kiffen.
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