Page 82 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

“I’m not your mother, Kye,” I murmured. “There is very little he could do to hurt me.”

He looked at me almost pleadingly, willing me to understand something, as though I couldn’t grasp some hidden message. Like I’d looked at a fire but couldn’t see the flames. I shifted my weight, chasing the unease that nipped over my skin, the cold feeling of unexpected restlessness. The wooden stairs and stone walls pulsed quietly, somehow closer, tighter than they’d been a moment ago.

“Do you want me to kill him?” I asked, trying to understand. My mouth gaped in shock.

Something like surprise flickered in his eyes, there and gone. He shook his head. “No. No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He curled his fingers around mine, around the handle of his knife. “But if you need to,” he whispered, “if it comes down to you or him, don’t hesitate.”

37

Maren

King Emilius’s private quarters sprawled the width of the tower. His windows opened only to the sky, deep and wide and at this moment, very blue. Rich woods hung from the walls and corners like tapestry in a hunter’s cabin, a mahogany mantle, cedar chests, oak beams, walnut panels. The style of his tables and chairs followed a similar vein, intricate patterns etched long ago, a fine layer of dust that even meticulous cleaning can’t uproot settled within the deep grooves.

Daylight streamed in, and there was no need for candles, but they were lit anyway, wax dripping from grand Ashwood pillars taller than me. Furs drifted across the backs of furniture in every direction, as if a pack of wolves had run through the King’s quarters and stopped to shed their hides.

Yet even with the dauntless sky, the towering windows, the blaring sun and bright candlewicks, the quarters were somehow small compared to Kye’s tower. Quieter. Colder. I might have been in the same palace as Kye, might have been a simple room away, but the distance became abruptly vast. Hinges squealed behind me, a latch turned—and I was suddenly a trapped bird in a glass cage.

“Making sure she knows the way?” Emilius had said, slapping Kye over the shoulder as if my use for an escort had been a source of humor between them for years. Kye hadn’t smiled. He’d barely acknowledged the King, holding my gaze like a bolt charging across the stars as the door closed between us.

Kye’s knife dangled, heavy against my hip.

Emilius waved toward the room, then cut leisurely ahead in an invitation to follow him. “How is my brother?”

My steps faltered. “Your brother?”

“Yes,” he mused slowly, crossing his arms behind him as he walked. “Nikolaos and Hadrian left two weeks ago to deliver a message from my general to him. I’d been under the impression that you’d gone as well.”

Mihauna in the moon-damned sky. I’d forgotten the rushed story Kye and Hadrian had given Emilius before we left.

Halfway through pulling a chair out for me, the King tilted his head, striking his eyes across me sideways. If his gaze was a sword, it might have sliced me in half. “What did Marcus have to say?”

I’d never been adept with lies. With Ano, I’d never had to be. I set my shoulders back, opting for the closest I could come to truth instead. “I wasn’t present for the military discussions between them.”

Kye, I hissed in my mind. What message did Emilius send you to give your uncle, and what would he have said in response?

Marcus? He sent back. We convinced the King to ask for Marcus’s trackers to find where Rivea has restationed their armies in the mountains.

“I imagine war councils would be boring for an islander,” the King drawled, motioning for me to sit. “What did you do with your time instead?”

I slid slowly into my seat, smoothing the silk of my skirts. The fine hair at the back of my neck raised, as though sensing someone lurking behind me, danger hiding around the corners of the expansive room. But I’d listened for the beating of hearts nearby, and the only ones I could locate beyond ours belonged to the quiet footman, pouring volare into the King’s flute.

“I visited Merriam’s Aalton Temple.” My thumb padded silently against my thigh. I couldn’t stay still when I lied. I didn’t fear Emilius—but I didn’t wish to make an enemy of him either. His acorn-haired servant poured fresh volare into an elegantly stemmed glass for me, and I reached for it, searching for something to hold onto.

“You would have visited Sundrench then.” Emilius lowered himself into his chair, leaning heavily on his elbows to watch me. “What did you think?”

“I enjoyed the architecture.” It was the only thing I knew about the Aalton Temple—the famously grand construction and the hundreds of bodies rumored to be buried under the stone floor. I raised my chin, lengthened my spine.

He’s testing me.

Testing you? Kye shot back. In what way?

He knows we didn’t head north.

Tell him—

What’s Sundrench?

“It’s beautiful, of course. I’d love your perspective, as someone born on the islands.” The King clasped his large hands, securing his chin amongst his knuckles.