The prince didn’t speak. Tension thickened, suffocating the air. Greaves stood aside, eyes darting between us. His gaze flicked over our necks, then scanned our bodies.
“What is it?” Kallias bit out.
“I was looking for you.”
“You’ve found me.” The creak of his grip on his sword was unmistakable. His irritation was palpable. “Now, what is it?”
“You’re removing me as foreign advisor.”
Tallon’s gaze trailed downward, fixing on my belly before drifting lower.
I shifted my weight, wishing to hide behind Kallias, but that wasn’t who I was. I didn’t cower. “It’s rude to ogle a woman’s body, Prince.”
His eyes snapped back to mine, disgust boiling beneath the surface. His lip curled into a sneer before he masked it with a scowl.
“Princess Nienna survived an assassination attempt while you slept.” Kallias dismissed him with a gesture, taking a step to lead me away. “Maybe you should have addressed your concerns at the council meeting you missed. I’d think my heir would care more about what happens during an emergency.”
Tallon’s hand brushed the dagger at his hip, and Greaves moved between us, a quiet but firm presence. Kallias turned and led me down the hall, his silence heavy.
“He hates me,” I whispered.
He sighed. “You’re not the only one.”
The moment I sat down, everything came crashing back.
Scythe’s scream. The sickening squelch of the blade sinking into her flesh. The strangled catch of her breath.
At the time, those details seemed small, fleeting. Now, they were seared into my memory, impossible to erase.
Blood had poured over my hands, hot and sticky. The assassin’s neck had been difficult to puncture with the pencil, resisting even the sharpest point. Again and again, I stabbed. Were they dead before they hit the floor?
I glanced at the small cut on my hand, no larger than a finger.
That was all I had to show for surviving the assassination attempt.
But Scythe was gone.
The morning was waning, blending into midday, but rest eluded me. My mind took a break during the council meeting, and now it refused to let me relax.
“Sleep, Princess.” Edith hadn’t asked questions, nor had she pushed for answers.
She sat in the thin slant of light fighting through the heavy curtains. These new rooms were cramped—just a bed chamber and a small dressing room that doubled as a washing area—but they felt safer than my own.
I watched her hands move, steady and practiced as she knitted. Each stitch a quiet rhythm. Would she be next? Or would they succeed and kill me instead?
Edith set her knitting in her lap and the light caught the wet trail down her cheek. “Princess.”
I wasn’t the only one lost without Scythe. She had been her friend too, a bright spark in our small circle. Her laughter, her energy—she was the joy of our little group.
“Regrets won’t bring her back, Nienna.” Edith’s blue eyes met mine, cloudy with age, steady as they had been countless times before. “She would want you to sleep.”
No. Scythe would have climbed into bed with me, holding me until I drifted off. Or she’d have insisted on crawling through tunnels, dragging me along with her.
I sank into the mattress, drawing the thin sheet over my body. The fabric clung to me as I kept it taut, careful not to obscure the view of the room.
Scythe’s discovery of those passages saved me. If we hadn’t explored them—I’d be dead.
Grief clawed at my heart, and tears fell. It was just me and Edith now.
