“You go too far!” someone snapped. “It is not our place to test the royals. That’s for the gods!” Hushed, murmured agreements followed that sentiment.
I deciphered his message through his silent gaze—he was daring me. It was a risky move. If Sainte couldn’t shield me, my life hung in the balance. Yet, if I succeeded, I could rally support from the high court.
Wasn’t this the dangerous game I’d been warned about?
“Will the rite be forfeit if I’m absent when the God Stones arrive?” I whispered to Anderz, maintaining eye contact with Leihim.
“As long as you arealive, the rite will wait for your return, Princess,” he assured me.
“I believe,” the table fell silent as I leaned in, addressing the court but fixated on Leihim’s challenging stare, “an ambassador shouldn’t travel where a royal wouldn’t dare.”
“The prince regent–”
“Has other priorities,” I stated, cutting off Reuthland.
“To ask the princess to–”
“I volunteer,” I stated calmly, silencing another council member. “I would like to meet King Reid. As you know, I grew up in Tilamuik. I understand their culture better than most who might go in my stead.”
“And what if you do not return,Princess?” Counselor Reuthland sneered. “What about the hope you’ve kindled among the common people? The belief that the gods care for the souls of mere mortals?”
“I suppose one would have to have faith the gods will protect me,” I replied, tone dry. “Or else they might have higherpriorities.”
Lyana was in the single place I wished she weren’t—the Hall of Receiving.
While Adastrus attended to matters he deemed paramount, oblivious to the ambassador’s murder, I attempted to slip inside. A noble in luxurious furs pleaded his case nearby. My brother’s gaze locked onto me instantly, though he remained still, his eyes sharp with sinister intent.
Ethyan lounged beside Lyana, his hands folded behind his head against the wall. He grinned when I joined them, while his sister focused on Grimm, as if she might convey a message through sheer willpower.
I composed my expression and observed my brother’s Valahant at the foot of the dais. Once a jovial figure, his eyes lacked their usual sparkle. The velebond link embedded in his skin seeped red, with angry crimson lines extending from the wound, vanishing beneath his tunic.
It looked terrible—painful.
Urien’s voice, hushed yet intense, reached my ears as he conversed with Sainte beside me. The man showed a newfound concern for my companions, a protective stance against Adastrus’ threat.
“I’m going on a trip,” I murmured, glancing at Lyana before returning my gaze to my brother, who slowly straightened in his chair to peer at me.
I wouldn’t have long, lest he enact some cruel deed to assert his authority as regent over me, a point made with reckless disregard for consequence.
“Oh?” Lyana’s voice carried a note of curiosity, her gaze fixed on Grimm.
A hint of redness tinged her ocean eyes, evidence of her recent tears. The dark circles beneath them betrayed her lack of sleep. If my trip weren’t imminent, I’d have stolen a moment tonight to hold her.
“I’m bound for Gladier,” I said, my tone light with anticipation. “Their winter games are underway, and I thought you might like to come.”
Truthfully, I wanted to whisk her away from this place, far from Grimm. Her whispered confessions to me in the dead of night tugged at my heart, fueling a wish to move the sun and moons to free him. Yet Anderz made it clear there was no way. Even if Adastrus were to meet an untimely demise, his Valahant would follow through with the velefieor.
The passage of death.
I pleaded with him to continue his search for a solution, though his simple nods of understanding carried a weight of resignation. Hope seemed elusive, slipping through our fingers like grains of sand.
“I’ll sit this one out, El,” she said, hugging herself tight and leaned against her brother, who draped his arm around her, drawing her close. “I wouldn’t enjoy any games right now.”
A frown creased my brow. I didn’t relish the idea of her staying here, worrying over Grimm. There was nothing I could do, norshe could do. Love, in my limited understanding, seemed too vast to bloom within a few fleeting weeks of travel.
My eyes slid over to Sainte.
A few years of moments, though… that might be–
