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Atticus opens his mouth to speak, but Zander lifts a hand, stalling his brother’s words.
His lips press into a thin line. He seems to be weighing his captain’s opinion over his brother’s, also in a high-ranked position. Boaz looks maybe two decades older than Zander, who I doubt has reached thirty, but there is a wisdom in his eyes only earned with experience. He is clearly one of the few people Zander trusts after what happened to his parents.
What must it be like to be thrust into the position of king so suddenly, and so young?
Then again, they’re not human. How old are any of them, really?
This constant questioning of everything I know … it’s enough to drive a person insane.
“Very well.” Zander nods toward the woman—Abarrane, I gather. “I will provide you with a summons letter. Seek shelter at Lord Telor’s stronghold before escorting him here, under the pretext of important courtly matters. Search for any evidence of Ybarisans, but not openly. I do not wish to cause discord with one of our strongest supporters, especially considering our source.”
“Your Highness.” She bows deeply and then, spinning on leather boots, storms out, slowing long enough to spare me a contemptuous glare.
I avert my eyes, letting them fall on the expansive canvas stretched across the table, on the oddly shaped land mass that looks to be hand drawn in ink and surrounded by water. It’s too far from me to read any of the script.
“That will be all,” Zander says.
I take that as my signal, and I turn to follow Elisaf out.
“Not you.”
My back stiffens. Somehow, I know without looking that he’s talking to me.
Atticus’s cold, calculating gaze is on me as he passes. He slows long enough to whisper, “How unfortunate it is that you didn’t choose someone more skilled with a bow.” His hand curls around the hilt of his sword, as if to make a point. Surely, he’d use it on me, if his brother would allow it.
I’m sure I’ve had people curse the thief who made off with their jewels, but I’ve never had so many people wish me dead to my face.
Everyone files out, and I’m left alone, standing across the table from the man who decides whether those wishes are fulfilled.
The moments drag without a single sound as I wait impatiently and try not to stare at him, my curiosity about his elven kind competing with the anxiety I feel, knowing he would much rather have me dead. He needs me, though, should another daaknar show up. A reality that must burn his insides. Is that the only reason I’m still alive?
What would he do if one did suddenly appear? Throw me to it like chum to a shark so it can sink its fangs into me?
Princess Romeria chose to murder a king and queen and lead an insurrection rather than marry this man. Is it as Wendeline says? Was that choice about power and deep-seated hatred? Or is there something more?
Still, he says nothing. Is he waiting for me to grovel at his feet for my release? I haven’t reached that point of desperation—yet. But I’m not here to win a battle of wills. That would be stupid. I clear my voice. “Thank you, for taking the locks off the balcony.”
He doesn’t acknowledge my appreciation, instead gesturing toward the map. “Go ahead.”
I hesitate.
“You seem extremely interested in it, and I would prefer you interrogate me rather than my caster on matters of our kingdoms. Besides, there’s nothing here you haven’t seen before.”
I highly doubt that.
What has Wendeline repeated of our conversations? I’m beginning to assume everything. Did she tell him that I called him a monster? Would he care?
I approach the table cautiously, struggling to ignore the feel of his gaze on me, like cool fingertips against my skin. I tilt my head to better read, feeling a slight pull where the daaknar bit my neck, even though the marks are now invisible.
The map is drawn in ink and intricately detailed, on paper or canvas much thicker than anything I’ve ever seen. I don’t have anything to judge scale, but the various mountain ranges would suggest a vast expanse of land. Off the southwest corner of Islor is Seacadore, separated by Fortune’s Channel. In the southeast, Islor connects with Kier. In the north, Ybaris borders a large country named Skatrana. To the northeast is an island called Mordain.
“Something perplexes you,” Zander murmurs.
More like something is becoming shockingly clear. “Is this the only map you have?” I struggle to keep my voice calm.
“No, but it’s the most extensive one of the lands.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Why? Do you believe something to be missing?”
The Americas, Europe, Africa, Australia … I may not be a geography expert, but I know enough to recognize that this is not any of those continents, in any time frame.
