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“You know each other well, then?”
“I know his reputation, and that of his father, and I am content to leave it at that. Auberon, however…” The prince paused, seeming to search for the proper words to describe his brother’s relationship with Eamon. In the end, he simply shook his head. “That is a story too long to recount. Auberon is skilled at reading people, and he is quick to decide whether someone is deserving of his time or his mockery. Once his mind is made up, there is little chance of changing it.”
“I see why he accompanied you here, then.”
He nodded. “He’s very protective. Sometimes to an infuriating degree.” Drystan turned to face her fully. They sat so close, Riona could see that his eyes were a deep steel gray, without a hint of Auberon’s blue. “But after the way you comforted him at the banquet, there is no doubt in our minds that you are worth every second we spend here.”
He wishes to court you, Auberon’s voice whispered in her mind. She could see it, too. The prince was careful to keep a polished mask over his face, but he couldn’t quite hide the glimmer of hope in his eyes as he regarded her, a slight smile on his lips. The sincerity in his words reminded her of the night after the poisoning, when she had found him sitting on that bench in the great hall, his head in his hands as he attempted to compose himself.
The night Auberon shouldn’t have survived.
“WhydidPrince Auberon have the poison’s antidote in his bag?” she asked, finally voicing the question that had been nagging at her for days. “And how did he know which poison he’d ingested?”
Drystan rolled his eyes. “Part of it is just Auberon being Auberon. He has always been fascinated with things of that nature—the Assassins’ Guild, poisons, swordplay, archery. As you can imagine, there are many people who would like to see themselves on the Empire’s throne, and because of that, our father insisted our tutors include lessons in poisons, healing, and self-defense. Auberon simply took to it better than I did. He doesn’t travel anywhere without that box of antidotes.”
Riona found herself smiling at the affection in the prince’s voice. “You’re lucky to have a brother like him.”
“Yes, I must remind myself of that every time he makes one of his smart-mouthed comments,” Drystan said, chuckling. “Anyhow, that’s enough about him.”
He gazed out at the gardens, a field of lush foliage spreading out before them. Even though it was late in the year, many of the blossoms still clung to their bushes, dotting the landscape beyond with vibrant splashes of color. He drew in an awed breath. “This place truly is beautiful,” he said, watching a young boy and girl chase each other along the edge of the pond, giggling. “Do you spend much time here?”
“Not anymore,” Riona responded, a familiar ache tugging at her heart. “My mother used to bring me here when I was little for my lessons in the Selannic tongue. She said it reminded her of the gardens at the royal palace. She always claimed it would help me connect with my roots.”
At the note of grief in her voice, Drystan’s expression softened. “Have you ever been to the Isles?”
“Never. It’s a long voyage, and my mother always wanted to wait until I was older to take me on her annual visit. And after…” She stopped.After her ship was destroyed, my father became terrified of losing his only daughter to the war, as well.“I haven’t had the chance.”
The prince seemed to hear her unspoken words. “I’m sorry for what the war has cost you. Nothing I can do or say will bring your mother back, but I hope you and I can create a future in which no other girls must lose their mothers to a needless war,” he said. “If you return to Erduria with me, we will stop in the Isles so you can meet your mother’s family. We will stay as long as you like.”
Riona opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure how to respond to the kind offer. Part of her was touched by the sentiment. She didn’t know much about her grandfather’s court, and she’d always wanted to meet the family her mother had left behind.
Thankfully, she was spared having to answer by the arrival of Eamon and the Rivosi guards, who informed her that it was time to return to the castle. She followed them to the carriage waiting outside the garden, and the three of them fell into easy, light conversation as the wheels clattered over the cobblestones. As they passed the Royal Theater, Riona reached into her pocket and ran her fingers over the piece of parchment tucked inside, Auberon’s response to her promise to meet him there at midnight. It held three words, scrawled in the prince’s cramped, hurried hand:
I can’t wait.
* * *
The king was on his knees in the royal chapel, sobbing.
Riona had accompanied the princes to their houses and bade them farewell, then wandered up toward the royal apartments, savoring the peace and quiet. Her uncle would be hosting a court dinner in Cathal’s honor, but she had a little while before she had to return to her father’s estate to change. She’d been seeking out a moment alone with her thoughts when she’d spotted the small royal chapel. Its doors were ajar, a handful of royal guards bracketing the entryway, and through the gap she had spotted her uncle’s broad shoulders, shaking with silent sobs.
She approached the doors, and one of the king’s guards stepped in front of her. “It’d be best not to disturb His Majesty, my lady.”
At the sound of the man’s voice, Domhnall turned and spotted her through the opening. “It’s alright, Donnic. Let her in.”
The guard stepped aside, and Riona slipped into the chapel. The building was small, meant only for the royal family and close friends, and only a few pews sat on either side of the narrow aisle. The lanterns and torches scattered throughout the prayer room were unlit, leaving it illuminated with only the colored light filtering through the stained glass windows. In the center, before the bowl-shaped altar, knelt the king.
“We will find the man responsible for Cathal’s murder,” Riona breathed as she sank to her knees beside her uncle, “and we will bring him to justice.”
“Will we?” He turned toward her, tears shining against his dark skin. Riona wondered if this was the first opportunity he’d had to grieve his friend since the day they learned about his murder. For as long as she could remember, her uncle had always been a king first, and a man second. He had even managed to hold himself together long enough to meet with Duke Valerian about the negotiations for her hand. “If the world were just, the man who committed this crime would suffer for it a thousand times over. But you and I both know the world is rarely that fair.”
Riona clasped her fingers around the eudorite pendant, feeling the ghost of her mother’s touch on the back of her neck. “No, it isn’t, but that doesn’t mean we stop trying to make it better.”
“I admire your optimism, my dear niece. I wish I shared it.” King Domhnall slipped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. She leaned against him, her head resting against his chest. Although she was still angry with him for inviting the suitors, she could not bear to see him in such pain. “I will carry this grief with me every day of my life. Grief and guilt.”
“Guilt?”
“He was my closest friend and confidant. What use is being king if I cannot protect the people I love?”
