A knock sounded, stopping the curt response on the edge of my tongue. I pivoted toward the door as Sainte opened it.
“Counselor Hinyte,” I bit out with a smile that was all teeth.
“Princess,” his eyes flicked between Anderz and me, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” I snipped, though my expression proved otherwise.
“May I have a word?”
“Now is not the best time,” I said. “I’ll gladly answer the onslaught of questions at the feast. Save it.” My fists curled tight, knuckles turning white with the strain.
“I saw the…godsmove as clearly as anyone in that room. I only wanted to suggest that a trip to the Temple of Togamar mightenlightenyou on your future path.” The smile he offered didn’t reach his eyes, but he dipped his chin in a show of dismissal. “I’ll see you at the feast, Your Highness.” With that, he took his leave, departing as if his words hadn’t been cryptic.
A deep frown carved a wrinkle between Sainte’s brows. I looked to Anderz for clarification. If anyone could decipher his meaning, it would be him.
He gave a slow shake of his head, a silent answer to my question. “I would advise you to visit the temple tomorrow, Princess. Perhaps seek Togamar’s forgiveness for any offense.”
He meant it as an excuse for me to go, but it only fueled my frustration.
“Is there a way for me to challenge this?”
“Because of today’s outcome, he remains in power as regent. He cannot ascend the throne unless you pass beyond the Veil. The witnesses saw him marked as favored. With so many observing the outcome, you cannot contest the result, as much as he cannot rise because of your victory in two rites.”
“What about the Rite of Combat?”
“You think you stand a chance against him?” Sainte snapped.
“It’s better than–”
“Than what, my petulant princess?” Anderz interjected, tone soft, using that infuriating nickname. “Is risking your immediate demise worth your challenge? The prince regent will surely plot against you, but for now, you can seek the gods’ favor and perhaps sway the high court with any evidence you gather. You still hold influence there.”
With a long, deep breath, I attempted to rein in my emotions. Lashing out served no purpose. This was the hand I’d been dealt, and I needed to strategize accordingly. I had to uncover how my brother manipulated the God Stones. There was no logical explanation for the gods choosing him… assuming they even existed, which I was counting on now.
I would have his head, one way or another.
He would pay.
After taking a few moments to compose myself and allowing the maids to change me into more appropriate attire, I entered the Hall of Feasts. The dressthat should have celebrated my victories in all three rites now brought a bitter taste to my mouth.
Chin held high, I met every questioning glance with defiance. I refused to be subdued. There was a reason my brother emerged victorious. Whether through manipulation or divine intervention, I was determined to find out.
In the meantime, I would carry myself as the princess I was—the victor of two rites.
I strode to the raised table at the back of the hall, sensing my brother’s eyes tracking me as he laughed at something Reuthland said.
“To my sister!” he called, lifting his wineglass. “And to her exploits that led to her loss of favor!”
Poor taste, brother. Poor taste.
I maintained a smile as the room tensed, people reluctantly raising their drinks to their lips. Adastrus winked at me over the rim, and I took my seat, waiting as a servant filled my glass to the brim with wine.
“To you, brother,” I called, lifting it with care, “and your sudden,unexpectedFavor of the Gods.”
His features brightened with mirth as my Valahant pulled the drink from my hand and sipped. I focused on Adastrus, my smile not reaching my eyes as he drank from his cup. Sainte returned mine, and I brought it to my lips.
There was a first time for everything—and after the reactive toast, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to start.
I took a small sip, the sour and fruity scent warning of its bitterness. As the liquid scalded a trail down my throat, and my eye twitched in distaste.
