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No. It could not be.

“Mother—”

Aeliana was cut off by a look from her mother. What had she been about to say? Darien would have prompted her, but something in her expression held him back. Where before, her features had been soft, almost demure, now those same big, beautiful eyes flashed in a way that held Darien’s tongue.

Instead, he addressed the seer. The same woman whose ancestors had been advising the earls of Ellswood for centuries. “Have you ever been wrong before?”

Neither his father nor Nimue were pleased with the question, but too much was at stake not to ask.

“The runes do not lie,” she said, picking them up one by one.

“That was not my question,” he pressed.

In response, Nimue gazed at her daughter, but Darien could not interpret the look that passed between them.

“Not since I was an apprentice myself. Even then, the runes did not lie, but I misinterpreted them. Could there be more to this reading? Perhaps. They do not always give us a full vision of the future. But I am certain she will not be crowned queen.”

“We are done here.” His father’s tone was not one Darien wished to argue against. He’d done so many times growing up, but never successfully. Instead, he followed him into the front room to join Sir Bradon as the seer and her daughter followed.

“Apologies for the interruption to your evening,” his father said to the seer.

“None are necessary. We are at your disposal.” With that she bowed, as did the daughter, just before the latter escorted them out. As Darien crossed the door’s threshold, a tug on his tunic was so slight, at first he thought he’d snagged it somehow.

It was no snag, though. Aeliana had followed them through the door and was silently asking him to stay back. He did, pausing as she leaned forward to whisper.

“Come back. I will be waiting.”

And with that, she stepped away from him, back inside the cottage, and closed the door.