Butnow …
“I did not question her turn to faith—simply welcomed it with open arms. She’ll spend some time atoning at the Glass Palace, strengthening her body and mind. I’m hoping she will join me in the hunt for Shadow’s Hand.”
I nod, watching that cream drip, drip, fuckingdrip …
“Well, I hope we still get to enjoy our monthly morning teas?” I ask, struggling to keep the jealousy bubbling in my chest from seeping into my tone. Counting two visible tangles—not to mention the few loose strands frolicking around her face like a fuckingtaunt.
She offers me a comforting smile, reaching out to set her hand on mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Relief nuzzles into my chest.
She finally picks up her scone and takes a healthy bite, humming her appreciation as she chews. “I’m sorry I missed the last.” She sets it down and draws a sip of tea, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear. I grind my teeth, itching to take the brush and pull it through those golden locks. “I journeyed to Mount Ether to speak with Maars myself.”
I drop my fucking scone, eyes blowing wide. “You should havewarnedme! I would have provided you with a congregation of escorts!”
She looks at me from beneath raised brows. “Who would have gotten in my way?”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, drawing a deep breath through my nose and blowing it out. “How did it go?”
“Well. I took him a goat and watched him feast upon its warm heart,” she says with such savagery I can almost picture her standing there with the organ in her hand, blood dribbling down her arm. “He told me my daughter would come face to face with the one we seek.” Chin lifted, a fierceness ignites her eyes. “We’re getting close, Cainon. I canfeelit.”
I give her a tight nod.
I want to believe her, but after so many years, those words feel more myth than reality. A false sense of comfort, no doubt, but my mind is elsewhere lately.
I sip my tea, scouring her messy locks, the brush, before staring over the balustrade at the barge piled with blocks of glass that glimmer in the sunlight. It drifts toward the bay’s narrow mouth bracketed by twin towers of blue stone, each burdened with a massive cog that winds the thick iron chain draped across the ocean floor. Turns it into a hull-shredder when pulled taut.
Yes, the shallow banks crouched beneath the waves are perilous in rough weather, but the chain is worth far more than just a warning for when the chop is up. It protects Parith from an ocean-borne attack almost as effectively as Ocruth’s famous cliffs.
“Are you happy with the latest shipment?”
“Very. The clarity is impeccable. That’s the last of it being ferried to Kilth,” I say, gesturing toward the barge. “All going to plan, it will be shipped off the continent by the next full moon.”
The logs I receive in exchange will add greatly to the production of my fleet, and it didn’t cost me a single Baharian tree.
“Our understanding works well for both of us,” she says, bouncing her brows, and I hum my agreement.
“To sacrifices.”
She nods, and I sip the steaming liquid, gaze drawn back to the city’s blocky skyline. I bite down on another grape.
“Now, what about the news you promised in your scroll?”
“Of course.” Swallowing my mouthful, I nip a glance at the brush, then clear my throat and dust off my hands, savoring the moment.
Gorging on it like the feast it is.
“It’s too early to say for sure, but … I may have found a way to knock him off the board. For good.”
“Do you mean—”
I smirk.
Heira’s eyes widen, hand stabbing across the table to grip my own. “Oh, my boy. You have donewell!”
The praise, the tone, the look on her face—
I’m infused with a spill of rapture that makes my blood surge. “As soon as I become Master Consort of Ocruth, you’ll have unchecked access to scour Vateshram Forest for Shadow’s Hand. You’ll also have access to the unlimited resources you desperately need to support your swelling militia.”
