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Valerian’s expression was grim. “Take my offer to your father once you return to Torch. Pledge me the support I need to free my country, and once Kenter is independent and the power of the crown returned to Glenkeld, I will share with you everything I’ve learned. I have no doubt that with the Empire’s resources and a dedicated team of scholars, you’ll be able to uncover more information than I could in a lifetime.”
Auberon fought to keep his expression neutral in the face of such an intriguing proposal. Valerian had to be desperate to offer such a valuable prize in exchange for military support, and the research he’d gathered could be invaluable to Erduria. There was no telling what the scholars might discover. The miracles the healers would be able to perform. The military advantages blood magic would provide.
That last thought sent a chill down Auberon’s spine. Although he was in awe of its power and eager to aid his empire, he was still too wary of temptation to entrust the public with knowledge of blood magic. The folk stories warned of blood mages for a reason. Once someone got a taste of how powerful he could become, blood magic corrupted him, heart and soul.
He studied the duke. “I’ll present it to my father, but I make no promises. Tell me: What would you do if you were not granted the aid you seek?”
Valerian heard the question he didn’t dare voice, and his expression darkened. “If you believe that I would murder innocents in order to strengthen my magic, you must think me no better than the Kostori. If I am denied Rivosi or Erdurian aid, I will go to Beltharos.”
“And if they refuse you?”
“Then I shall return to Kenter to try and turn the tide from there, as impossible as that feat might seem. I will not accept defeat.”
I will not accept defeat.The words buried themselves under Auberon’s skin, doing nothing to assuage his fears about Valerian’s use of blood magic. “We could kill Eamon,” he murmured, so quiet only Valerian would be able to hear. “It doesn’t have to be right now if you’re concerned about the attention it would attract. There will be plenty of opportunities to slip poison into his food or drink between now and his return to Kostos.”
“Don’t tempt me. Even if there were no proof of my involvement, King Jericho would wield his wrath over his son’s death against my people. I can’t risk their lives for the sake of one man, despicable as he may be.”
Auberon sighed. “A shame. I was looking forward to hearing the news of his death.”
Valerian offered him a dark, fleeting smile, one that promised blood. “Someday. Just not yet.”
ChapterFifty-Eight
The Lady
The lantern hanging from the ceiling of the carriage swayed, casting long, dancing shadows as the wheels clacked over the uneven cobblestones. Riona turned Auberon’s emerald-hilted dagger over in her hands, watching the light play across the gemstones. A little voice in her head urged her to turn back. After everything that had happened between her and Auberon, Riona shouldn’t be going to meet him. Drystan was the one vying for her hand in marriage, and that would never change.
And yet when Ophelia arrived at her father’s estate with Auberon’s message, a traitorous little part of her had thrilled at the thought of spending one more night in the theater with him.
The carriage rolled to a stop before the ornate double doors, and Riona sucked in a steadying breath before climbing out. When she stepped into the foyer, the familiar scents of perfume, varnished wood, and dusty velvet rushed over her. She had just reached the archway into the theater proper when she heard the soft strain of a piano, a melody she knew well. The Fall of the Faeries, from the ballet his mother loved. She rolled her eyes. Of course he had found his own way inside the Royal Theater.
She pushed aside the curtain. The theater was pitch black save for the stage, which glowed under the light of countless candles. Auberon was sitting on the piano bench, wholly focused on playing the song she had spent weeks teaching him. Beautiful, light notes danced in the air. They wrapped Riona in their embrace and drew her toward the stage, her feet moving of their own accord.
When she reached the end of the aisle, Auberon turned his head and offered her a crooked smile. “I’m not as skilled as you are,” he said as he continued to play, “and I never will be, but I think this would have made my mother proud. I have you to thank for that,aramati.”
Riona climbed the stairs and sat beside him on the bench, watching his calloused fingers travel over the keys. “You’re doing it again—speaking of your mother as if she were dead. Why?”
For a few moments, he played on, considering his words carefully. The song filled the theater, its beauty underscored with notes of longing. “…I told you,” he finally said, a haunted kind of sorrow in his blue-gray eyes. “She may as well be dead, for all that she has in common with the woman she used to be. I don’t recognize her anymore.”
Her chest tightened at the grief in his voice. “Auberon…”
“I’ve been practicing,” he continued, nodding toward the piano. Riona remembered him sitting alone in that tavern in Crafford, his fingers tapping out the melody on the side of his mug. He held her gaze as the last note faded, silence descending over the theater. “I wanted to play for you, just once. I know that you will be promised to Drystan tomorrow, and I know that you believe everything between us was nothing more than an act, but it wasn’t. Despite my best efforts, I have fallen in love with you,aramati—wholly and eternally.”
Her heart stuttered. They sat so close that the length of Riona’s leg was pressed against his, so close that she could see the flecks of pure blue in his eyes and the faint little scar that cut into the edge of his lower lip. So close that if she leaned in, they would kiss.
She had spent so much of her life hating the Erdurians, cursing them for the deaths of her mother and Prince Killian. She clung to the scraps of that hatred with desperation, even as the slight smile on Auberon’s lips made her stomach flutter. He had become so much more to her than just an ally, and the knowledge terrified her. She could not care for an Erdurian. Even the little time they had spent here, in this place she loved so dearly, felt like a betrayal to her people, to her mother.
“I…don’t know how you want me to respond to that,” she said carefully.
“Of course you do. What you don’t know is that I have begged the Creator every day to stop me from feeling this way about you. You don’t know how desperately I want you to walk out that door and never speak to me again.” Auberon shot to his feet and crossed the stage, tugging at his hair in agitation. He spun around to face her. “I never planned for this to happen. This isn’t how it was supposed to end. I was supposed to use you to gain information about the mines, and you were supposed to fall for Drystan.”
He shook his head, his expression one of pure torment. “Loving you is destroying me, Riona. I forget who I am when I’m around you. Even though there can never be anything between us, I want nothing more than for you to tell me that you love me, too.”
If you must go to Erduria, be certain it is with the husband who will truly make you happy,Amaris’s voice whispered in her mind.
Riona rose. “Why must it end like this? You are second in line for the throne. Marrying you would still secure a peace treaty. It would still end the war.”
Auberon shook his head again. “One day, Drystan will be the Emperor, and he will need a woman deserving of the crown to sit at his side.Youare that woman, Riona. You are strong, and intelligent, and brave, andjust. You and I could never marry, and you will understand why when you sail with us to Torch.” He looked away, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I should not have asked you to come here. The Creator has always seen fit to punish me, and this—this is the perfect torture. From the moment I saw you, I knew you would be my undoing.”
