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He straightened the lapels of his jacket and responded without even bothering to give me his full attention. “Do not start with me, Ladon. It’ll be fine.”
Anger bubbled inside me. I didn’t care if it would be fine. I cared that he was siding with Emilie over me. I cared that he was already letting her influence his choices, and not for the better.
Emilie had the good sense to leave his side and head for the carriages, giving us a chance to speak alone.
“Promise me that you’ll at least try to be civil to her on this trip. You haven’t given her a fair chance. Maybe if you did, you’d see she’s actually a very kind person, and she doesn’t deserve your hostility.”
The thought of being even remotely cordial to her made my skin crawl. I shook my head, unable to form the words.
Cyrus fixed me with a harsh glare—the kind he used when he was giving a command, not speaking to his family. “If you can’t fall in line, you will be staying behind.”
I could count on one hand the number of times my brother had addressed me in such a fashion. I knew he’d had enough of me and his threat was serious. And I couldn’t let them go to Fort Malek without me.
“Fine,” I bit out.
“Say it.”
“I promise I’ll try to be nicer.”
He didn’t miss the inflection in my voice, but my vow seemed to be good enough. He clapped me on the back as he followed Emilie out of the castle. I had to count to ten before I trailed them both.
We filed into the covered carriage while my brother’s guards occupied the one in front and the one in the rear, protecting us on both ends. It was only a precaution. The roads through Osavian were extremely safe, but it was proper procedure nonetheless.
Cyrus and Emilie sat on the bench facing forward while I took the seat across from my brother. Cyrus took off his dress jacket and wrapped an arm around Emilie’s shoulders. She leaned into him and gave him a wistful look that made me want to vomit.
As the carriage began to roll, I focused my attention on the passing scenery. There was a mist hovering over the royal gardens and many citizens had lined the streets of Renoa to wave goodbye. I gave them a polite nod and, from the corner of my eye, I noticed Emilie waving and smiling.
To my dismay, the people seemed to love her. They called her name and wished her well. Cyrus beamed next to her and played with the curled ends of her hair.
My leg began to shake with irritation. This was going to be a very long ride.
“How much longer is it going to be?” Emilie whispered. My eyes were closed, so they thought I was sleeping, but really, I just didn’t want to feel obligated to socialize.
The carriage jostled, but I remained relatively still, listening to all their conversations, which were honestly boring. For some reason, I’d expected more than the awkward questions and stiff responses. It was painfully clear that these two were not meant for each other.
I released a small sigh. Cyrus had dismissed my last attempt to persuade him. I didn’t think there would be another, especially now that he was flaunting Emilie around the country.
“It shouldn’t be too much longer. Maybe an hour or so,” Cyrus guessed. The carriage was dark enough that I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that night had fallen. His guess was as good as mine.
“It’ll be pretty late when we get there, I guess,” Emilie said.
“Yes, we’ll probably head straight to bed. Tomorrow we can do the introductions and all that fanfare.”
“Hmm.”
I tried not to laugh at how forced the conversation was. It was unbearable. It felt like Cyrus tapped my shoe once or twice, but I successfully ignored him. I had no interest in alleviating some of his discomfort. He should’ve listened to me and sent her packing several weeks ago. In fact, he never should’ve invited her to Renoa in the first place.
The carriage slowed to a stop, and I finally opened my eyes. Cyrus gave me a disgruntled look, but I ignored it, sitting up straight and stretching my arms over my head.
Rain came down as I peered out the window, distorting the stronghold before us. Through the downpour, I could just make out the outline of a guard atop the watchtower. Two lanterns lit the path to a large metal door, the only opening to Fort Malek.
It creaked open slowly as someone pulled a lever from the inside, allowing our caravan to pull through the gate. Beyond the walls was an open, square courtyard. On the far side were three tall arches which connected the outdoor opening to the greeting hall inside. On either side were matching arches—the ones on the right led to the lodging, while the ones on the left were reserved for meetings and offices of the other high-ranking members.
Something didn’t feel right. As I looked around the opening inside the stronghold, it was eerily quiet. Aside from the sound of rain hitting the rooftops and the wind blowing against a broken shutter, the outpost felt abandoned.
Cyrus noted the same. “Guess everyone is inside, hiding from the storms.”
“I suppose so,” I murmured. Though an unsettling feeling crept up my spine. I’d feel better once we were inside.
