Lyana put her back to her brother, eyes dancing between me and Sainte. “What’s he saying, El?”
He glanced up at the ceiling as if sending a prayer to the gods for patience. “I would have a word,” he tried. “Your friends can stay here.”
I rocked on my heels, kicking out my hip with a brow raised high. “And what will stop your friends from getting a little excited and lopping off heads?”
“Whoa, what?” Ethyan choked.
“Please…” Sainte’s jaw tightened as he spoke, muscles twitching.
“Aren’t these the good guys?” Lyana’s voice pitched higher. “That was established… wasn’t it?”
“Us? Good?” The friendly one tilted his head back, releasing a hearty laugh that reverberated throughout the room. The remaining servers departed in a hurry. “Sweets, we’re not the good guys.”
At least he wasn’t afraid to use the common tongue.
“Comforting,” Lyana replied with a dry scowl.
“Urien,enough,” Sainte snapped.
He grabbed hold of me with his uninjured arm, and the soldiers encircled us. They fidgeted with nerves, each resting their hand on the hilt of their weapons.
“When she acts like a princess, feel free to treat her as one,” he bit out, then hauled me across the room.
I yelped and fought, wrenching at his strong grip, while my friends created a commotion nearby. Unfazed, he continued, dragging me up a flight of stairs and down the hall. I fired curses, stumbling behind and jerking my arm for good measure. He kicked open a door and practically threw me inside, then stormed in after me, slamming it shut. When he faced me, I propped my hands on my hips and arched a daring brow.
“Honestly?” He exhaled, motioning toward his injury. The haphazard bandage was damp with fresh blood. It was obvious he dressed it in a rush before intercepting us at the port.
“Well, are you the good guy?” My tongue tripped over the High Wynterian. After all this time, it felt more foreign than Muik.
“Do you know who the bad guy is, Elspeth?” His tone dropped to a tired drone as he pulled a chair in front of the door and settled in.
“According to you, it’s my brother.” I glanced toward the window on the opposite wall. I had jumped from greater heights. “What do you want with me, Sainte? You left me alone for years. Why now?”
He squinted at me, lips pressed in a firm line as if working some mystery out. “You’re almost twenty-one.”
I blinked, waiting for him to elaborate, but he stared, as if expecting a response.
“And that’s different from my twentieth birthday… how?” I asked. “Don’t act like I’m supposed to know anything, Sainte. You took me from Wynterborne when I was six. It’s not as if I was an endless fountain of knowledge at that age.”
He groaned and dropped his head. His left hand dragged down his face, pulling at his distraught features.
My heart twinged at the sight, and I rolled my eyes at my stupidity. I would not argue with him about this. It was pointless to even ask about it. I dipped into a crouch in front of him, waiting until his bright gaze met mine before I spoke. “Twenty-one or no, I’m not going back.”
That got him to sit up.
He straightened as if someone shoved a rod up his arse, his glare piercing, cool eyes ablaze with fury. “You are Princess Elspeth, second in line to the Kingdom of Wynterborne.”
I waited a moment, then pushed myself to stand. “What, no more titles to add?”
“You’ve been missing for fifteen years. You’ve earned no titles beyond the Lost Princess. People assume you ran, succumbed to Winter’s Bite.”
“See? Lovely place. I’m sure everyone wants to go where winter gnaws off fingers and limbs, where cold steals away your breath and turns your lungs to ice. Sounds grand, but I’ll pass.”
“You have a responsibility to your people.”
“My people?!” I scoffed. “Let them think I’m dead. I owe them nothing. When were they there for me? When did they rise to protect me when my brother cackled down the halls of my home, singing about my head on a pike?”
“The affairs of court are not for the common man to interfere.”
