Azyric breaks our battle of wills first by looking toward her, only then do I glance over.
A figure fills the doorway and instantly I see the familiarity to Azyric in her facial structure. She must be kin of some sort. Her hair is as dark as the ink in his tattoos and cascades down her front. Pale skin marked with faint freckles stretches across sharp cheekbones. Silver eyes, identical to Azyric’s, assessthe room with a flicker of amusement and nothing at all like fear.
Azyric exhales through his nose, not returning the undercurrent of humor. “Did you find someone to tend to her for the duration of her stay?”
“Iamsomeone,” she says simply, stepping into the room with feline grace. “You’ll have to settle for me.”
I blink at her, unsure how to react. She doesn’t look at me with suspicion, pity, or fascination. Just...curiosity as her gaze travels over me. As if I’m something she’s never seen before.
Azyric’s tone deepens slightly. “Can I trust you to follow the instructions I gave, Ilyria?”
She smirks and lifts a finger for each instruction as she rattles them off. “Quiet service, no questions, modest clothing, drawn bath.” She drops her hand to cross her arms against her chest. “Honestly, I’m shocked you remembered a woman needs all of that on your own. You’ve been so stuck in your own world.”
“I’m not certain you’re capable of the quiet part,” he mutters, but I detect a shred of warmth in the jab.
She winks at me, then retorts. “Luckily, you’re not in charge of me, oh great one. I was born two minutes before you, remember? Respect your elders.”
He ignores her and turns back to me, his gaze cool once more. “I have other matters to attend to, Wren. I can’t have you following me around like a lost lamb, so my sister will take over from here.”
The words land harder than they should. I lift my chin, not letting the sting show.
“Funny,” I say, voice low but clear, “you didn’t seem to mind when I chose you to follow out of the four kings.”
The answering pause is brief, but it crackles in the air between us.
His sister snorts and cuts in smoothly. “You can go, brother. She’s with me now. We will see you at dinner.” She crosses the room and offers me her arm with the kind of ease that makes it impossible to refuse. “Shall we?”
My head nods in answer and we walk silently out of the room. I don’t bother looking back at Azyric, but I feel the weight of his stare on my back. It sends a chill down my spine.
My chest rises with a deep breath as I shake all of that from my mind. I’m here for any answers I can get about this world and my role in it. I can’t let him distract me from that. Perhaps his sister will be more loose-lipped around me with information.
We step out into the corridor, retracing the path Azyric and I took not long ago. Only now, instead of the quiet threat of a wraith king beside me, it’s his sister, gliding through it like the castle bends around her presence. The difference is immense. Every person we pass seems drawn to her, like they can’t help but let their gaze linger on her. There’s a reverence there,whereas it seemed everyone averted their gazes from Azyric at all costs.
I can’t help but wonder what caused such a staunch divide in the wraith community's opinion of the twins.
A few attendants pass, eyes widening as they catch sight of me beside her. Their stares linger longer than necessary and hushed whispers follow in our wake.
The feeling of scrutiny and loneliness that I had to overcome in the council room is a moment I never want to experience again. I fight the urge to stare back at these wraiths and show my defiance.
I lift my chin higher and take a calming breath.
Why should I care about the thoughts of people I don’t know and will likely never see again?
As we round the corner to head into the private area of the king’s wing, a voice cuts through the relative silence.
“Looks like our king finally found a whore to crown.”
I freeze as her words roll through my mind and their meaning becomes clear.
Ilyria turns on her heel before I can remind myself once again that I shouldn’t care what these people think.
She doesn’t raise her voice, but she doesn’t need to.
A cold, sharp tone that eerily reminds me of herbrother comes through in her words. “I suggest you keep yourself busy with duties you’re actually qualified for, Danira.” I watch her silver gaze pin a small brunette to the spot, her lips sealed shut now. “Deciding who is worthy of being queen doesn’t fall to the woman delegated to scrubbing stones.”
Silence crashes into the hall. The woman goes red and ducks her head, scuttling away like a scolded child.
Ilyria simply resumes walking back toward me and links our arms once more. Her tone is light as she whispers, “For what it’s worth, I’d love to watch you continue to put him in his place if you were who he crowned.”
