Page 10

The guard’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a slight disruption in the cadence of his steps, making me guess that, yes, he is always this much of a prick.

“If you want to remain hidden in my palace, you had better start practicing respect,” Prince Kallias warns, shooting me a scathing look over his shoulder. “My father will not be as lenient as I am.”

“Lenient is one way to put it,” I mumble.

“You can practice now,” he goes on as if I hadn’t uttered a word. “All you need to say is ‘Yes, my prince.’ ”

I glare at his back, willing him to feel the heat of my stare burrowing into him.

How can he resemble his sister yet be so entirely different? Their skin shares the same olive hue, and they have the same straight nose, though his is decidedly more masculine, almost regal. Aella’s hair is a strange pale blond, whereas Prince Kallias’s is a rich mahogany that seems to catch and absorb the dawn light as it breaks over the Sorrows.

He glances over his shoulder again. His eyes are different too. Not the stormy blue of Aella’s, but also not quite brown. They’re the color of sunlight filtering through amber glass, roasted almonds, and something more decadent when they darken with emotion.

I tear my gaze away, fixing it ahead. We’re taking the same path I walked with Aella during my first and only visit to the palace, the eastern gate looming before us.

My eyebrows inch up in surprise. “Are we just going to walk straight through the gate?”

The prince makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Remember what I said about respect?”

“I hadn’t thought your words seemed worth committing to memory.”

The guard beside me stifles what sounds like a cough but could very well have been a laugh. I cast him a sidelong glance, but his expression is as stoic as ever.

I’m sure Aella has mentioned his name to me before. This was the same guard who let us pass without an issue when I visited her brother with her. Maximus? Something like that.

I push the thought aside as we approach the gate and scrutinize the guards flanking either side. They both bow deeply, seemingly not alarmed to see their prince arriving at such an unusual hour. Master Bittern would admire them; the Aviary’s training master is rarely seen with any expression at all, and the guards here seem to have mastered the same art of neutrality.

I lower my face as we draw nearer, curling my shoulders inward and folding into myself as we pass through the gates. I’m relieved momentarily, but it’s quickly replaced by annoyance.

“Would you look at that,” Prince Kallias mutters when we’re far enough away to avoid being overheard. “You do know how to be silent.”

“I know how to do many things,” I say, my voice dripping with equal parts honey and scorn.

He halts and pivots to face me, the move so sudden I almost crash into him. The guard at my side grips my arm, drawing me up short. I shake his hand off and mirror the prince’s stance.

“I need to clarify a few things, Songbird,” Prince Kallias says, and I barely suppress my eye roll at the way he spits my old title like it’s poisonous. “Although I may be concealing you within these walls, I do not wish to see or hear from you. You are not to speak to me, nor will I acknowledge your presence. Keep as far away from me as physically possible. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my prince,” I say, dropping into a mock curtsy. When I rise, the disapproving look on his face almost brings a smile to my lips.

“Maxim,” he says without taking his eyes off mine. “Show her around and take her to Dimos. Find me afterward.”

His eyes hold mine a second too long—like he’s daring me to disobey him again. Like he wants me to.

He finally turns, and I watch him walk away, scowling at his back until he disappears behind the palace doors. Heaving a sigh, I glance over at the prince’s guard—Maxim—only to find him already watching me with thinly veiled curiosity in his gaze.

“You’ll want to keep up,” he says, almost amused.

I fall into step beside him, eyeing the palace as we approach.

Everything here reeks of power, from the moldings above every archway to the pristine cobblestones underfoot that don’t dare show their wear. Even the air is different here. Heavy. Like it knows these are the grounds of kings.

It’s strange to think this is where Aella spent her childhood. Stranger still that I’m here and she’s missing.

“You’re staring like you’re planning on robbing the place,” Maxim observes, cutting through my thoughts, equal parts dry and amused.

I throw him a sidelong glance as he leads me inside. “Maybe I am.”

“You’d be dead before you made it to the fifth window.”