Her mother refused, as Roa knew she would.
But Dax was not dissuaded. He smiled a winsome smile. He used those warm brown eyes to melt her mother to his will. He even took the dishes out of her hands saying, “Let me carry these for you, Desta.” As if Roa’s mother wasn’t used to hauling heavy sacks of grain in from the fields or her own weight in water from the wells of Song.
To Roa’s utter disbelief, her mother gave in—but not with a smile. Instead, Desta looked at the son of the king with sorrow in her eyes.
Next, Dax stood beside Roa at the washbasin, with a cotton towel thrown over his shoulder, drying the dishes as fast as she washed them, asking after her family, asking afterher.
Roa couldn’t stand it. The enemy, not just in her house, but in her own kitchen, trying to win her to his side?
As if he wasn’t the heir to Firgaard’s throne—a throne that had taken the lifeblood of their people, sucking the meat from their bones.
As if he wasn’t the boy who’d stolen Roa’s sister from her.
Didn’t he remember what he’d done? Who he was?
Before Roa could smash a pot over his head, Lirabel stepped in, her gaze catching Roa’s. The look on her face said: Go. Run. I’ll take care of this.
Roa wanted to hug her.
She fled to her father’s study, on the opposite side of the house.
But not even the study was safe. As soon as everything was put away, Dax found his way into the very next room for a game of gods and monsters with her father.
As if her father wasn’t the one who’d locked him in a storeroom.
As if her father wasn’t still grieving the daughter he’d lost—because of Dax.
A softrap-rap-rapon the door drew her out of her thoughts.
Roa stopped pacing and bared her teeth. Was there no escape?
But it wasn’t Dax who opened the door and stepped into the study. It was Theo. The flames lit up his dark hair, pulled back in a bun, and cast shadows in the hollows of his throat and jaw. He shut the door behind him.
Relieved, Roa let her breath out in a whoosh.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She threw him a look that said,What do you think?
Theo crossed the room to her. When they were children, Theo had been a bully and a brute who Roa found it hard to be friends with. But eight years of sanctions had turned him into something else entirely. Eight years of sanctions had forged a tight alliance between the heirs of Song and Sky.
“Did you hear him at dinner?” Theo whispered, knowing Dax was in the next room. “Talking to your uncle about the grain harvest? As if most of that harvest won’t be destroyed by the blight. As if your parents won’t give what’s left to those who need it more than they do.” Theo’s voice was bitter. “And that slave... how does he dare bring a slave into your house?”
Roa hugged herself. “I don’t know,” she whispered. It was abominable, the way draksors thought they could own other human beings.
She started to pace again.
Seeing her agitation, Theo calmed himself. “It’s just a fortnight and then he’ll be gone.” He reached for her arms, stopping her and pulling her into him. “You can handle him for a fortnight.”
She nodded. That was true.
Roa looked to the door between this room and the next. The one where Dax played gods and monsters with her father.
Why have you come?she wondered.
Theo’s voice brought her back. He squinted down at her, as if she weren’t really standing in his arms but somewhere far away and he was trying to find her. Several heartbeats passed before she realized he’d been saying something.
“Roa? Where are you?”
