Not once had he checked on me, not a single message sent. My vague report had ignited Scythe’s fury; she threatened to slip herbs into his wine, enough to keep him at the chamber pot till dawn, but I managed to restrain her—not that it wasn’t tempting.
Yesterday, I maintained a quiet resolve to charm him, to unearth some common ground where friendship might root, if nothing else. That plan now felt as insubstantial as morning mist.
A guard swung open the door, and I strode through, chin lifted, eyes scanning the room. Heavy with polished wood and gilt trim, the chamber held a grand oval table, its expanse surrounded by chairs, some unoccupied and lined in neat rows nearer the doors for any nobles who cared to observe.
At the head, Kallias loomed, gesturing to a map laid open across its surface. His eyes caught mine mid-sentence, his hand pausing above the land’s sprawled illustration, his gaze shifting with an unspoken question. Around him sat noblemen and a few dignitaries, their robes rich and refined. The prince, however, lounged back in a seat apart from the others, positioned with a young noble, Fyrn’sol at his side.
Fyrn spotted me and, with an inviting smile, scooted over to make space by Tallon. I took a steadying breath and approached, hiding the instinct to ask her to place herself between us.
“…and Edon’s men will be needed for the harvest.” Kallias’ voice resumed, redirecting my attention.
His gaze hadn’t left me—watchful, unyielding. I offered him a slight bow of acknowledgment before slipping into the empty seat beside Tallon, my presence ignored as he confided with the noble on his other side.
He bristled as I tucked my skirts close to be sure we weren’t touching. The thought that this cruel, shallowboymight one day share my bed made my skin crawl.
“I’m glad you came!” Fyrn whispered, leaning in.
She smelled of roses and wore a low-cut pink gown, her hair falling in loose curls over her shoulders. Her fingers wrapped around mine, giving a gentle squeeze. I returned her smile, and, feeling Tallon’s eyes on me, lifted my gaze to meet his cold stare with a grin as false as his own. The nobleman on his other side edged over a fraction, sensing the tangible animosity between us.
I leaned back with a smirk as if to say,You’ll need to try harder if you want to scare me away, then settled into my chair with the intent of absorbing whatever I could from the council meeting.
To be fair, it was a boring ordeal. It soon became clear the gathering would be more tedious than enlightening. Tallon and his companion barely paused in their quiet but persistent chatter about an upcoming horse race, their voices filling the space around us and drowning out what little sense I could make ofthe council’s proceedings. From the bits I managed to catch, the conversation centered on preparations for the harvest and the allocation of soldiers across Kallias’ lands.
Why would the king’s forces need to assist with crop collection? Did he use his army for common labor during harvest, or were there troubles brewing beneath the surface of these mundane orders? But each time my attention focused, Tallon’s prattle about some magnificent steed named Fleetfoot disrupted any understanding I might glean.
“Darius, when is the ambassador from Vellos to arrive?” Kallias’ firm voice cut through, pulling my focus back to him.
“He is due next week, Your Majesty.” Darius, sturdy as a mountain, inclined his head in acknowledgment. He wore his years like a seasoned warrior, short white hair and beard giving him the air of an elder general, though I had yet to confirm his rank.
Kallias’ eyes flicked to me before resting on his son, then back to the table. “The treaty demands we accommodate the ambassador’s needs,” he said, bracing himself on his hands as he studied the map, “but that doesn’t mean he has free rein. I want two guards shadowing him at all times—and an additional guard posted at Princess Nienna’s hall.”
I straightened, unable to keep silent. “Surely the six stationed there are sufficient?” I’d counted them myself, those hulking shadows standing at every door and corridor. A seventh seemed superfluous. I already felt like a bird caged in steel.
The king’s gaze pinned me in place—an impenetrable wall of glacier-blue. “Another guard will be stationed at your hall,” he replied, a flat command. The tone held no give, no invitation for argument.
I sank back in my seat, holding his stare, though inside I seethed. One more set of eyes felt as pointless as the rest; what could he add to the watch they already kept?
Kallias returned to the map, his jaw tight as he dismissed the meeting. “If he arrives with an entourage, deny them entry.” His gaze darkened, his lips pressed thin. “Until tomorrow.”
He pushed off the table, that ever present golden mantle swaying with his movements as he left. Greaves followed. They offered no further acknowledgement of our presence.
He was the king, after all. He had places to be.
“Free at last.” Tallon stretched, a gesture lacking the dignity expected of a prince. A lock of hair fell over his brow as he gave Fyrn—not me—a sly smirk.
I swallowed my pride. “Would you take me to the temple?” The words tasted bitter. He was the last person I wanted to ask for anything, but Fyrn’s hopeful presence reminded me of my attempts to make this arrangement bearable.
He wrinkled his nose as though I’d suggested mucking stables. “What for? It’s filled with dusty crooks who cling to the old ways. They’d sooner control the throne than serve it. I’m retiring—and you’d do well to do the same.”
His insolence struck deep. This was more than mere arrogance; he was defying his father’s order with a smug satisfaction, assuming I’d follow like a meek child.
I turned to Fyrn instead, keeping my voice light. “Fyrn, would you mind escorting me in his stead?”
Color bloomed over her cheeks as her gaze darted to Tallon, but she dipped her head and nodded. “It would be my pleasure.”
With that, we rose, smoothing our skirts as we moved for the door, leaving the prince behind without another look.
He didn’t deserve a second glance.
