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“Miss Anneka?” I frowned, holding the wicker basket to my chest as I turned toward the Shadow Temple, where it loomed at the base of the Cliffs of Sorrow. The shadowstone spires reflected the sunlight as if it repelled life itself.
“She is a recently widowed merchant’s wife,” she explained, lifting her brows. “They have been having a rather sordid affair. I’m surprised you didn’t know about it.”
“I really try not to think about Tavius and block out anything about him,” I told her, wondering if it were possible that this widow had given Tavius the money. I sighed. “I can’t believe all of that had to happen right as the Queen was coming in from the gardens. She was not entirely pleased.”
“She spent a good portion of supper last night bemoaning the ruined carpet,” Ezra said, and I rolled my eyes. “Apparently, it had been imported from somewhere east and, according to her, was ‘utterly irreplaceable.’”
Apparently, my life wasn’t.
My mother hadn’t said a word to me after I left the room. She hadn’t checked on me to make sure I wasn’t injured like Sir Holland had. Neither had the King.
“What happened to your arm?” Ezra demanded, her eyes narrowing. “Did that occur when you fought off the guards?”
“Not entirely, though I’m sure that didn’t help. It’s courtesy of Prince Tavius,” I replied and then told her what had happened.
Her jaw hardened as she stared at my arm. “You know, I have always had a hard time believing that people are inherently evil,” she said, lifting her gaze to mine. “Even after everything I’ve seen while helping those in the city. Misdeeds are either done by choice or by circumstance. Never by nature. But, sometimes, I look at my brother and think that maybe he is evil. Perhaps he was simply born that way.”
“Well,” I murmured, “I can’t say that I would disagree with you on that. I just wish more realized it.”
“As do I.” Ezra stepped in close enough that if either of us moved, her bare arm would touch mine. “By the way, the god you saw with the Queen yesterday?” she said, and I immediately thought of the gold-painted face mask. “I overheard her speaking with my father after supper about him. His name is Callum.” Her chin dipped. “He’s from the Court of Dalos.”
My stomach flipped. “He’s from The Primal of Life’s Court?”
She nodded. “I imagine it has something to do with the upcoming Rite.”
That made sense, but I couldn’t remember a god from the Court of Dalos ever coming to the castle before.
We started to make our way through the winding path that cut through the numerous raised planters full of medicinal herbs. “Let’s see what else we can help Healer Dirks with,” Ezra said, and I nodded. “Then I must head home. Father has requested to speak with Lord Faber. I’m not sure why, but Mari was finagled into joining her father, and I was somehow included in the conversation.”
Wondering what the King wanted to speak with Lord Faber about, I followed Ezra toward the curtained doors.
“Hey.”
I looked over my shoulder toward the voice as Ezra stopped in front of me. I looked past the Royal Guards and beyond the courtyard to where…
A fair-haired male stood by Ezra’s carriage, rubbing the muzzle of one of the horses. He was tall and slender, his features sharp—his eyes, cheeks, and jaw. He wore a black, sleeveless tunic trimmed in silver brocade, and polished, dark boots that reached his knees. There was something…off about the way he casually stood there. It raised the hair along the back of my neck. It took me a moment to realize that the sun’s glare didn’t appear to touch him—that he and only he stood in the shadows.
My heart started thumping heavily as I turned to Ezra, to see her trying to peer around me. “I’ll be right back.”
“Who is that?” she asked as the Royal Guards eyed the male with what I suspected was the same unease I felt.
“Not sure. If I find out, I’ll tell you later.” I bit back a smile as she sent me an impatient look. “I promise.”
“You’d better,” she muttered and then snapped the skirt of her gown with how quickly she turned.
Senses alert, I kept my right hand close to where I had the blade sheathed to my thigh. As I passed the Royal Guards, my steps slowed near the stranger who had returned to petting the horse.
“Who are you?” I asked.
His head turned toward me, and I saw his eyes. They were a deep amber color, and I was close enough to see the glow of eather behind his pupils.
The stranger was a god.
Out of reflex, I placed my hand over my heart and started to lower to a knee in a gesture of respect reserved only for a god or Primal. Something I just then realized I’d never done for Ash. “Your Highness.”
