Page 93 of Death Will Follow

His eyes fell to where her hand still gripped his elbow, and he instinctively twisted out of her grasp. Playing off the potentially offensive gesture, he bent forward slightly, as if it had been his intention all along to make a polite bow.

“My Lady,” he murmured. His mother had shared the news of Thorn and Liv’s betrothal earlier; they would be joined on the next new moon.

“Leaving so soon?” she asked, her accent lilting. Liv stared at him, her fine brows raised expectantly.

“Yes, I must depart for Silvergard.”

Liv nodded. “But you will return?”

Callan studied her for a beat. Something had her flustered, her nostrils flaring slightly with every quick breath.

“Of course, I intend to return,” he answered, tipping his head back and narrowing his eyes at her.

Liv nodded again, her head bobbing rapidly as her icy blue eyes darted from Callan to the courtiers in the hall who had begun to take notice of their conversation.

“Will you speak with me in private before you go?” She gestured to the sitting area in the corner cordoned off with thick drapes.

He shot a look over his shoulder to the exit only two strides away. He was so close. Though he now believed the medallion she’d gifted him before his journey was truly nothing more than a talisman, something in his gut made him wary of her. Still, she was, in effect, the Noble Lady of the Winter Court.

He pressed his lips together in a polite smile and motioned for her to lead the way. Liv breezed through the curtains ahead of him. When he entered the private sitting area, she stood beside the small fire crackling in the brazier in the center of the space, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

“I assume your mother told you she does not intend to retake the Winter Throne?”

“She did.” Unsure what Liv was after, Callan resolved to keep his answers short.

“And did she also tell you of your uncle’s intention to be joined with me?”

“She mentioned that, yes.”

Liv turned, pacing a few steps away from him before spinning to face him once again.

“Callan, I must call in the favor that is owed to me.” She extended her arm, holding out her hand, palm facing up.

Callan knit his brow, suddenly acutely aware of the small stone he still carried in the pouch hanging at his hip. He flexed his fingers, hesitant to procure it even as the magic binding him to their bargain forced his hand. The token, pale blue and the size of a large pearl, was smooth against his fingertips as he fished it out.

Liv took two rushed steps forward, shoving her hand at him.

Resisting the compulsion to immediately drop the stone into her palm, he closed his hand in a tight fist.

“What is it you ask of me?”

“Renounce your claim to the throne.” Liv’s chest rose and fell with several rapid breaths, her gaze fixed on his closed hand. “Swear that you will never seek to rule Nivali.”

He studied his uncle’s betrothed for a beat. Desperation clung to her, evident in the tightness in her jaw and the slight tremble of the hand she held in the space between them.

“What are you planning?”

Liv huffed a breath and clasped her hands in front of her once more. She stood still for a brief moment, eyes trained on his, before sliding her palms down the front of her gown.

All at once, Callan saw everything clearly. His uncle’s fixation on family and seemingly stubborn desire to close ranks. Liv’s rosy glow and fuller figure that he himself had noticed and attributed to her living well as the consort of a regent. With the flowing fabric of her gown pressed tight to her abdomen, Liv cradled the swell of her pregnant belly in her hands.

“I see,” Callan murmured, realization washing over him. Thorn’s obstinance was rooted in his desire to protect his unborn babe.

The tension in his body eased, and Callan reached out to her. Liv accepted the offered stone, relief painting her features once she held it. She stared down, rolling the stone in the palm of her hand.

“Your parents will be well cared for, you have my word. But it is my child who will one day sit upon the Winter Throne. The time for one of the Fisher Folk to lead Nivali is long overdue.”

Callan laid a fist over his heart. “I swear to you, my Lady, my claim to the throne is well and truly severed. My future is with Nova, wherever she wishes to be.”