So did I.
Haldor, an aged rider, burst into the dining hall and drew my gaze. He didn’t move with his usual ease. His stride had urgency—long legs devouring the space between us. He raked a hand through gray-brown hair, eyes flicking to me as he stopped at the base of the dais.
“Rise,” Father said, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin, his frown deepening. The table quieted, every noble straining to eavesdrop while pretending to eat.
“There’s been a message.” Haldor’s voice, low but clear, reached the family with ease.
“From?”
He hesitated. His gaze cut toward me, uneasy.
What did I do now?
Haldor bent close to his ear, a hand steadying on Father’s shoulder as he whispered, lips hidden.
Argos roared.
Porcelain rattled.
Father shoved back his chair, snarl curling his lip. “Nyxaria, come with me.”
Mother and I set down our spoons. Ronan rushed to his feet, already tensed to find Gyrak, to take flight.
My breath hitched. Sky above, had the Innaki declared war?
I scanned the table. Jehoikim’s beady eyes narrowed, studying my family. He wasn’t panicking—so it didn’t concern him. But then who?
Father stepped away. Mother and Ronan flanked him.
I moved to follow—whatever it was, he’d need all of us.
“Nienna, stay.”
I froze, mouth half-open. I swallowed the protest and sank back into my chair.
“You’ve only just arrived,” Mother called over her shoulder. “Join us after you’ve eaten.”
She took Father’s arm. Ronan followed, expression taut.
Dismissed. Left alone in a room full of nobles who no doubt blamed me for the disruption—probably a correct assumption—waiting for me to slip up.
I drew a breath, slow and deep, and leveled a smile like drawn steel. Then dipped my spoon back into the soup.
If Father wanted me here, I’d stay. Maybe he needed someone to watch the ambassadors. Still, the message gnawed at me. I didn’t know who sent it. Or what it said.
Endless possibilities swirled in my head, and somehow I was sure none of them were right.
The day’s heat blistered against my back. Sweat slicked my skin as I reached for the last length of cloth. The gold shimmered under the brutal light as I draped it over a green so deep it pulled my thoughts across the sea.
My foot slipped. A yelp broke loose as Freya cursed and grabbed for me. I dropped the fabric and snatched the rungs, fingers closing on rough wood. It jolted but held.
“Sun above!” Freya’s knuckles had turned white on the rails. “Let me move the blasted ladder!”
I groaned and climbed down. She was right. I shouldn’t have reached that far. The heat had frayed my patience—this task couldn’t end fast enough.
“You wereso close!” Ronan’s voice came from the beach, a stone’s throw away. Gyrak’s wing stretched wide over him, casting a generous shadow.
Of course he wanted me to fall on my face while he stayed in the shade, complaining his black leathers weren’t suitable for stationary work in the sun.
