“An envoy just appeared today, and your General took a Force Bonded from that group.”
“He’s not my General,” I grumbled under my breath, much to Torin’s amusement. “And how do you know all of this anyway?”
“My roommate has a proclivity to discover information that should probably be kept hidden.”
I cracked my neck and folded my mother’s letter in a small square before sticking it in my belt.
“Fine. I accept your bargain.” My eyes widened as I felt something twist in my chest. Torin’s laugh was part amusement, part disbelief.
“Granddaughter of Fate. Seems you like bargains just as much as he and your mother.”
I shook my head, not wanting to dissect that statement.
“Tell me of Samyr.”
Chapter 71
Folami
The streets of Kiluo were awash in a sea of vibrant hues, every color imaginable—and even some I’d never seen in my life—adorned the citizens of Kiluo. Their eyes were bright, cheeks flushed in excitement; a thread of anticipation laced the air, which only fueled the persistent jubilation. Lord d’Hida of Samyr had successfully negotiated the return of nearly a dozen Vessels from the clutches of Lord d’Refan—or so the whispers indicated.
Something about that felt off, though, like it wasn’t the full truth. Maybe it was the undercurrent of wrongness that I felt in every corner of the territory, or maybe it was the conversation I’d heard between the Vessel and her grandmother weeks ago that set my hairs on edge.
Yes, Vessels were returning to Kiluo, but at what cost?
I sported the same vibrant tunic dress I’d worn in the market as part of my reconnaissance mission. I’d found nothing else of note to report back to Peytor in Lishahl, and I felt like my presence here was a complete failure.
What was even the point of Torin sending me here?At the very least, I’d confirmed his suspicions about Samyr, but therewas very little else that I was able to bring to the table. At least the army was flourishing in my absence—Peytor had taken over their instruction despite having limited military knowledge. He’d trained briefly at the Academy and under my own tutelage, so he was at least competent; not at the same standard as Torin and I, but it felt like our soldiers—the new recruits especially—answered better to Peytor’s command and hand. Perhaps it was because of his gender, perhaps it was because he was also a northern lord that openly defied the Warlord, or perhaps it was simply because he possessed some intangible quality that drew people to him.
That’s how he roped me, after all.
I’ll get to see him soon. And Itanya.
I shook myself from my reverie at the whimsical blare of a dozen horns. The crowd hushed in anticipation, faces turned toward the end of the street where the Vessels would parade up until they ended at a manor so large it resembled a castle.
Banners and colorful flags snapped in the warm breeze as the lord’s guards led the procession. As soon as the first Vessel was in sight, a loud roar sounded from the crowd, men and women alike screaming and clapping in alarming fervor.
I stood stoically, politely clapping to not draw attention to myself, as I peered through a gap between the two male Vessels in front of me. Their shoulders blocked the majority of my view, but I could just make out the bone-white carts that carried the Vessels atop. Their hair and makeup were done, dresses donned; all physical appearances reminiscent of their time in Vespera were gone. It was like they’d never left, any vestiges of their time away nonexistent.
It was eerie.
The women smiled with carefully painted lips and waved at the crowd as they passed by. They were beautiful and seemingly happy, but it was their eyes I was drawn to—there was anunderlying fear there, like they knew something awaited them at the end of this parade.
I scrunched my brow as I watched one woman—hair as dark as a raven’s and bright amber eyes—stand up and raise her hands to the crowd. There was no reluctance in her movements, no fear of the unknown, just a feral sort of excitement.
“The princess!” I heard whispered around me. “The princess has returned!”
As the parade passed my spot, I watched as the crowd folded in behind the procession, dutifully and joyfully following their returned Vessels with shouts and exclamations. I found myself drawn along, walking with the crowd for no other reason than to see what happened when the Vessels reached the manor.
Would they be welcomed? Executed? What happened to them?
“Be prepared to move. Quickly,” a low feminine voice whispered in my ear, and I jerked my head to the right toward the sound, beads clinking together with the movement.
The woman was as plain as could be—mousy-brown hair braided into a crown around her head, large, fawn-colored eyes that darted around, taking in every movement. She donned the same colors as the citizens of Samyr, but her clothes were ill-fitting.
I frowned as I continued to shuffle with the crowd.
“I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person.” I tried to move away from her, but her small hand darted out to wrap around my bicep. The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention.
