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A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. But perhaps Zariah just thought me sensitive to Illio’s plight, forever frozen…alive. It was something I sensed immediately, though I didn’t know how. That was not what forced the breath from my lungs, though. Nor was it what caused the heaviness on my heart.

I knew immediately who the descendant of Illio was. The features of the man before me revealed it. They weren’t the sharp nose and square jaw of the man I once called father. No, Illio’s nose was straight like that of Darvol’s, but that was because it had never been broken and forced to heal crooked. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so distracted by the golden skin and multicolored eyes, I’d have seen the truth of it in Darvol already. There was no mistaking the large frame and chiseled face, so like the man who’d stolen my heart.

But he didn’t have other magic⁠—

A sudden memory assaulted me, and I clamped down on my lip to prevent the gasp from escaping. When Balram had stolen Torvo’s mother’s magic and put us all to sleep, he had burst into my dream the same way Torvo had. With everything happening then, it hadn’t seemed odd…but he shouldn’t have been able to do that.

He wielded fire, water, and dreams—whether he knew it or not. And now I was certain. It wasn’t Balram the gods sought to destroy.

No, Balram wasn’t Illio’s heir.

It was Rivven.

Forty-Six

Leuruna

I’d never seen Serano gleeful before, but that was precisely how I’d have described him in the days after gifting him my illusion. Thankfully, due to lack of trust, he’d kept me close, which that meant I could intervene with another illusion every time he attempted to use Tromodian magic. I had no idea how long this would last, however, and I dreaded the moment he found out I’d tricked him.

Because I’d either end up in my father’s clutches or drained to death by Serano, who may still be convinced I’d somehow withheld power I no longer had. I was no longer tied to the bed at least, so I considered that an improvement. But the idea of trying to run when Balram or his men might find me kept me complacent, at least for the time being. If my lies were discovered, I’d have nothing left to prevent the worst from happening. I had to be smart. I had to wait for the right opportunity.

When a knock sounded at the door to his chambers, I nearly jumped out of my skin. But Serano simply covered me with an illusion and answered it. My mouth watered when I realized it was a servant delivering dinner, and the moment they’d left the room, I dove for it.

“Manners,” Serano cautioned, slamming a hand down on the domed cover of the nearest plate just as I reached for it. “If you are to be my queen, you must act like one.”

I nodded and lowered my eyes meekly, the way I knew he wanted me to. I forced my hands into my lap as I sat back in the chair, waiting. But my stomach had other ideas, and a loud gurgling sound echoed around the room.

With an exaggerated sigh, Serano lifted the dome to reveal a platter of pheasant. The aroma filled my mouth with saliva.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t fed me since he’d kidnapped me, it was that he’d siphoned so much so often to keep me weak. I’d passed out so many times I was no longer certain what day it was. The positive side was whenever he’d tried to touch me in a sexual way, I’d feigned losing consciousness. I knew that wouldn’t keep him at bay forever, though, which only increased my desire to throw caution to the wind and run.

My eyes watered as I fought to stay still in the chair. The last thing I needed was for him to decide to punish my lack of decorum with no food. Right now, I needed strength in case my opportunity came.

“Ask me nicely,” he drawled, leaning in to catch my attention.

My nostrils flared slightly, but otherwise I kept my temper under control. He wanted my subservience, and I had to convince him he had it if I wanted any sort of freedom.

“Please may I have some dinner?” I choked out.

“And how do you address me?” he asked, as though I were still his pupil.

I hesitated. If I guessed wrong, I would suffer. Did he want to be called His Highness? I narrowed my eyes. No, that wasn’t right if I was playing the part of his future queen. Finally, I ventured, “May I please have dinner, Dearest?”

His eyes lit with victory, and he piled some meat on my plate. I released a breath of relief, then struggled to keep my quaking hands under control as I used my fork and knife to eat “appropriately.”

“Very good,” he praised, heaping even more food onto his own plate. “I’m so pleased we could come to this agreement, Princess. Or shall I call you, my queen?”

I nearly choked on my bite but managed to swallow it down with a few gulps of wine. Then I gave him a weak smile. “My king.”

His smile unnerved me, but I reminded myself it was far better than the alternative as I continued feasting as quickly as I dared.

“So,” I said after sating myself. “You used a portal to find me. Did you buy that on the black market…Dearest?”

He finished chewing his bite as he watched me with sparkling eyes. They reminded me of bottomless pits. Had I overstepped?

“I have contacts in Elvenloft,” he admitted, then leaned back to sip some wine.

“Could you...open another if we needed it?” I asked lightly, lifting my own goblet to my lips.