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But certainly, it should be here any day now.
He exited the secret passage and followed his ears, shadowing her footsteps through several hallways, turns, and doorways. Finally, he paused at the bottom of the tower stairs that led up toward the royal bedrooms, listening to her soft slippers pad up the cold stone stairs. She’d hear him and his chain mail the minute he started up, so he’d wait until she reached her floor.
She was going quickly. What had the king and queen meant? Why did the news from Kavanar seem to set all this off? What was he missing?
She was afraid of something. But what exactly? His stomach tightened. It didn’t make sense.
He would follow, though, and protect her from whatever they had planned. He’d never felt so earnestly called to a duty by Nefrana in his life.
And it wasn’t the first time he’d felt her call. Some nights, he even dreamed about it.
In his dreams, a golden-haired woman on a white horse would rush up to him in the middle of the forest, pines looming all around them. It was always night. Always snowy, always cold.
But the woman on horseback was beyond the elements, no cloak, eyes flashing with lightning. He would have thought Nefrana’s eyes would be more like the sun, more golden and warm, but these were sharp, almost angry.
Then she’d rush toward him on that horse, almost hitting him, but then he’d dodge. Roll away—or he’d try to. She’d bump her horse into him just enough to spin him around.
He’d steady himself in her wake, but by then, she’d have vanished, and in her place, there would be Iseris, alone, lost in the snow, arms outstretched in the darkness. Looking for him.
The dream came at least once a month, and it was a sign; he was sure of it. Knights weren’t supposed to have visions, but he didn’t want to be a priest or a seer, locked away in a temple, told he was mad and fed potions and asked questions and mined like the mountains. No, he was a knight. So he never mentioned it.
But of all the responsibilities he’d sworn to carry out, this one most often sang in his heart. He would never hesitate to fulfill it.
Through the arrow slits on the outer wall of the stairs, his eyes caught on the snow outside as he listened. Snowy, cold. Today, just like in the dream.
The soft padding of her feet ahead quieted after she’d gone three flights of stairs. She’d reached her rooms. He raised a foot to start after her.
“Knight Dormsher.” He jumped at both the voice and the hand that clamped down on his forearm. Knight Captain Teuin. “You are wanted by the queen.”
Javarin froze. “That’s… unusual, sir.” He had never been summoned by the queen once, in all his years of service. There was no reason for it, either. There were a dozen knights senior to him, maybe more, that served her directly. It took all his self-control not to gaze back up the empty stairwell. “For what?”
“Do I look like a queen to you?” Teuin said flatly.
Javarin swallowed a clever remark—something he’d learned the hard way in Teuin’s case with more than one backhand and at least one black eye—and gave a slight bow. “Understood, Knight Captain. Where am I summoned to?”
“The royal meeting chambers.”
By Nefrana, could they know he’d been eavesdropping? Had the clink of the chain mail given him away? Or had someone seen him emerge from the secret passage? He considered telling Teuin about the tunnel immediately, but if he then reported it to the king and queen, they might realize their private conversations had been overheard. And he’d likely get Iseris in trouble. Instead, he simply nodded and strode off—away from the tower and toward the meeting chambers.
His heart thundered against his ribs as he made his way there, all the while straining not to turn and follow his princess. But he couldn’t protect her if the queen threw him out of the castle’s service.
Why in the world would the queen, of all people, summon him?
Except, when he arrived, the queen wasn’t there. Only one person waited for him.
Alekur’s man, his assistant, eyed him drolly over tiny spectacles. Javarin realized with horror he couldn’t remember the man’s name. But it was the queen’s son’s drunk lackey. Javarin could smell the wine in the air and fought curling his lip.
“I was summoned?” he said, voice gruff.
“Yes. You’re to wait here. By the order of the queen.”
He frowned but kept quiet. Why on earth would he get an order to simply sit and wait? This was not good, not good at all.
Chapter 4
Caught
Relieved no one had noticed her exiting the secret passage, nor followed her from the hall or up the stairs, Iseris hurried down the hall to her rooms as fast as she could manage. At least, as fast as she could while clinging to some shred of decorum. Maybe she could pass it off as simply late for something—tea with the queen?—if anyone asked.
