Page 67 of Crown of the Dunes

A long silence stretched in the wake of my outburst. For a moment, I thought Aderyn was not going to grant me a response. I shifted my weight back, ready to turn on my heel and find Dravis’s murderer on my own, when I spotted the slightest tremble in Aderyn’s jaw.

“You speak as if your parents were the only people you left behind when you ran out into the sands, letting all believe you dead,” she said, voice little more than a whisper. The quiet of her tone jarring from one who always projected such confidence.

My brow furrowed. “Aderyn—”

“You give up your crown to Keera and act like that undoes all the pain you caused,” she interjected before I could continue. “I had no parents—no siblings—when Kaius and Ginevra took me in. I thought I had found a family. You trained with me and sparred with me, and I thought that meant something. I thought it helped you with whatever demons plague you.

“And then you were gone, and I lost the only brother I had ever known. I was left behind trying to hold this city together when Queen Ginevra struggled to do anything but stare at the horizon hoping you would appear. I was the one who stayed.”

My chest tightened, but Aderyn barreled on, picking up speed as she went.

“And then Keera came. I saw the same demons in her, and I swore I would not fail again. I built a family from nothing, and I will not let you cost me a sister as well as a brother. You work your way back into their good graces and act like I should just accept your return. As if I didn’t also stare out over the sands for too many years, wondering if I would ever see you again.”

Aderyn breathed heavily, as if she had just run a long distance. I too struggled to catch my breath, as it fled my lungs like I had been punched in the stomach.

“I…” Words failed me, and I shook my head.

“I am sorry I could not change whatever it was that made you flee this city. But that doesn’t mean I will stand aside and let you destroy it.”

Guilt burned in my chest, hotter than one of Lord Alasdar’s brands. There were many reasons I hated this city—the lifelessness of the stone walls, the constant sensation of being trapped, the weight of both the mountains and insurmountable expectations driving me to my knees—but Aderyn had never been one of them. As I buried myself behind the mask of the Viper, burying my heart in blood and sand, I had never even considered what Aderyn had faced while I was gone.

Lord Alasdar had forged me into an unfeeling sword.

“I don’t have anything to say,” I admitted, my voice hoarse. I wished I had grand words of justification or apology, but she was right. The thought stabbed me like a dirk to the heart.

“Good,” Aderyn said sharply. “Words are for politicians, and we both know you aren’t one of those.”

“Warriors speak through actions,” I agreed.

“Help me find the enemies hiding within these walls, and you might earn my forgiveness,” she said.

I nodded. I might be a blade, but I was their blade now.

Chapter seventeen

Keera

“When was the last time you trained with a saber?”

I looked up from my breakfast to stare at Aderyn, curious at her sudden question.

“I did some forms this morning, on my balcony,” I said around a mouthful of bread. “I do them every day before breakfast.”

“But you haven’t sparred recently?”

I raised my eyebrows at her. “And when would I have had time for that?”

“I guess that is why I was asking.” Her lips twisted wryly. “Between a funeral, a coronation, and the chaos with the archons, I thought you might be in need of a change of pace.”

I nodded vigorously, working to chew and swallow my overly large bite. “I earned the title of Champion with a sword and a horse and have been rewarded with having no time for either swords or horses.”

Aderyn grimaced. “I think it’s time we change that. After the coronation, it’s clear that the threat of violence hasn’t been eliminated. Kelvadan may need its Champion again. The archons and I are capable of handling the day-to-day administration for a few hours.”

Gratitude seeped through my being, and Aderyn’s mouth softened at the corners. Perhaps she could tell that I was beginning to feel like a caged animal as I tried to fit myself into the mold of the queen Ginevra had been.

Or perhaps Dravis’s death had her concerned about the palace’s safety.

After an investigation, the riders in charge of the palace’s security had concluded that Dravis had cut his own throat to avoid the consequences of his failed display at the coronation. But the way Aderyn relayed this information told me she had her doubts, and so did I. At least one person in this palace opposed my rule, and I needed to be wary.