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Ryyen slowly raised their right hand. Creating a fist, they placed it over their chest and rotated the hand in a couple of clockwise motions. Ryyen signed, ‘Sorry.’

Brows furrowing together, Areanel sniffled. ‘You have nothing to apologise for, Ryyen.’ Clearing the croak from her throat, Areanel continued, ‘The king has given us an order.’ That was right. Strictly business. No emotions. Always the next mission.

‘Your son—’ Ryyen began to sign, but was unable to finish their thought when Areanel clasped her hand over theirs.

She shook her head. Now was not the time. They could speak about it later. If there was ever going to be a later.

In truth, Areanel was sure that if they spoke about Resmundur now, this time, she wouldn’t be able to stop the panic from snatching her under and keeping her suspended.

‘I need you to go and prepare the others. You know how Vas and Brutus get when we must leave suddenly,’ Areanel threw a knowing look over her shoulder as she turned. ‘We will need to leave in the dead of night so as not to be seen. Father insists that spies are within the city and doesn’t want to risk our movements being known.’

Rifling through the drawers next to the bed, Areanel began preparing two packs with necessities as she spoke. ‘Inform them that Rymedur will be joining us.’ At the incredulous look Ryyen sent her, Areanel found herself adding, ‘The king’s direct orders.’ Like that would explain away the oddity.

Rymedur had never been sent with her or the other envoys before. Why now? What had her father hidden up his sleeve, and how did Rymedur play a part in it? She wasn’t sure—but she was damned well going to find out. She would never risk him.

Soft footfalls moved toward her, and Ryyen gently placed their hand upon her shoulder. The reassuring squeeze stopped Areanel in her tracks. She understood instantly what her friend was trying to say without a single word exchanged. It was as though they could read each other’s thoughts.

But still, she replied, ‘I know, Ryyen. Thank you.’ Turning her head, Areanel looked into her friend’s unique, natural eyes. And as those deep voids stared back into hers, she said, ‘My father is up to something. Whatever it is, I have a bad feeling. If things go wrong…’

She didn’t know what Aerileas planned. Was it a trap of some sort, or was he simply hoping that Rymedur would finally see her for the monster she was? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d set a trap for her using a lover—but surely Rymedur wouldn’t betray her trust. Would he?

Her hair fell around her shoulders as she shook her head. Rymedur loved her. He wouldn’t. It was just her father confusing her. Gods, her mind felt muddled and foggy, like she was trudging through mud only to find out it was quicksand.

‘There is a reason he would insist Rymedur accompany us. I had hoped he would be safe from my father’s schemes. Please, I need you to arrange everything. Just…’ Areanel placed her hand on top of Ryyen’s slender fingers, urging them to understand her desperation. ‘Promise me you will protect him.’

Areanel needed him to be safe. She couldn’t imagine living in a world without him.

The sigh that escaped her lips when Ryyen bowed their head in acknowledgement, promising to keep him safe, was like a boulder being lifted from her chest.

Now all she had to do was survive.

Chapter 32

Areanel

Dusk appeared in a sea of gold dotted with pale pink roses and a splash of crimson. Dressed in leather pants, a flowing cream tunic and a form-fitted corset, Areanel arrived at the training grounds looking ready to face a battle.

One hand rested on the training sword at her hip as she assessed the groups milling about. With a furrowed brow, Areanel spoke clearly over the idle chatter. ‘I don’t see much training going on to say this is a training ground.’ Stern. Severe. Her tone left no room for argument.

The bustle of chatter fell to silence, and the only sound that was left was the rustling of leathers as the soldiers hastily grabbed their swords and took up their positions.

Within minutes, the scrape of steel on steel echoed as swords clashed. It continued until the soldiers were sweating from exertion.

Strict. That was what most called Areanel when it came to training. Especially with her troops. There was always room for improvement, no matter how skilled they believed themselves to be. Even when they had perfected a technique, Areanel pushed them to be better. Stronger. Faster. They needed to fine-tune their skills. Nobody was perfect. And if they were going to survive, they needed to be prepared for anything.

‘You’re always so harsh, Rea.’ Elmrynn appeared at her side. His hands rested on the low-cut neck of his fighting leathers. No sorrys were exchanged. No, are you okays? Or, I wish I could’ve done somethings.

Areanel appreciated it. Elmrynn was much like her; she didn’t want to speak about what had happened, either. Better to push their trauma down and deal with it later. Or never.

‘Out of everyone, I figured you’d understand my insistence, Rynn. The women have been training most of the day; they aren’t taking a break to gossip like this sorry lot.’ Areanel kept her eyes trained forward, gaze flicking back and forth between the men as they moved to practice hand-to-hand combat.

Elmrynn (like he had to prove that he was the impressive warrior) rolled his shoulders and widened his stance. ‘If you overwork them, they won’t be able to perform to the best of their abilities.’

He was right, of course, but Areanel refused to admit it. Instead, she did what she does best—change the subject. ‘Ada has spoken to you.’ It was a statement. She already knew he had, but wanted her brother to confirm it anyway. Hoping to learn more about the new treaty and what it entailed after her father let the knowledge of Jessika’s marriage proposals slip.

Gods, her head was spinning. She was struggling to keep up with all the manipulations and no longer knew what was real. How would she outmanoeuvre her father?

She had to find a way to keep Jessika out of his ministrations.