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With a slow exhale, she pried the smallest hole through her mental shroud and extended her senses outward, beyond the road and her retinue, reaching deeper into the woods that flanked their path. Finally, she located what she’d been searching for.
Warmth greeted her like a friendly wave.
I am nearby, Valorre said. She smiled at the feeling-thought that was his voice, although she could sense a tinge of impatience with it. The unicorn was not overly fond of how slowly her entourage traveled. He’d already galloped ahead and doubled back several times.You will be pleased to know I have found no hunters.
That’s good, she thought back to him. However, she wouldn’t be fully comforted until they left northern Selay and confirmed the forests in Khero were empty of Morkai’s hunters as well. She figured word of their master’s death had likely driven them to abandon their efforts, but she couldn’t be certain. Unicorn horns were still a rare commodity. And unlike many of the soldiers who’d awoken confused on the battlefield after the duke’s glamour had been severed, the unicorn hunters Cora had once pitted herself against weren’t being controlled by dark magic. Instead, they were mercenaries and convicted criminals. Cora wasn’t sure what Verdian and her other new allies were doing to sway public opinion about her brother and present him as an innocent victim, but if Morkai’s men thought Dimetreus was still in league with the duke’s former plans, they might continue their work.
That was yet another thing Cora was determined to see finished before she considered leaving Ridine Castle to find the Forest People—unicorn hunting had to be abolished. Not just in Khero, but across the continent.
“You used to love to ride.” Her brother’s voice roused her from her thoughts. Closing her mental shields, she turned and met his grin. It was the same tired smile he’d greeted her with in Verdian’s study, but the fresh outdoor air seemed to be doing him some good. His complexion had regained some of its golden-tan hue, the blotches that had once marred it now fading. Her heart tumbled with the same confused reaction it always gave when she looked at him—love and hate. Fear and sympathy. She stiffened as he reached across the space between their horses to squeeze her hand. “Do you still love to ride?”
His tone was so much like how it had been when she was younger—soft and slow, like he was speaking to a child. She didn’t have it in her to be offended. His last clear memories of her were as a young girl. It was the only way he knew how to talk to her. They’d have to get to know each other all over again.
She gave him a nod. “I do.”
“I remember that,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. He returned his hand to his reins. “More of my memories are coming back. I recall almost everything clearly from…frombefore.”
He didn’t have to elaborate. She knew he meant before Morkai had come into their lives. The duke—though not a duke yet at that time—had arrived at court two years after she and Dimetreus had lost their parents to a plague. She wondered how soon Morkai had begun using his magic to influence her brother…
A chill ran over her, so she tucked her hand into one of her pockets. A deep pulsating beat thrummed against her gloved palm—the energy of an object she’d forgotten was inside. She extracted the hand faster than if she’d been burned. Repulsion swept through her, as well as annoyance that she kept forgetting the crystal’s presence. Even more frightening was the thought that it might be enchanted. Though it would explain why she found herself surprised by its existence, it was too unsettling to think Morkai’s magic might linger beyond his death. Still, it wasn’t an impossibility. His glamours had been severed, but those had been woven using his Roizan, which had died along with its master. That didn’t mean all Morkai’s spells had dissolved. It stood to reason that any magic he’d made without the Roizan could remain.
She hated keeping the crystal on her person. She’d chuck it into the woods if she didn’t suspect it was too dangerous to discard so carelessly. It undoubtedly held vast darkness, but when she’d first touched it on the battlefield, she’d felt something else. Some unfamiliar energy. Whatever it was, the crystal needed to be cleared by magical means. The Forest People had taught her several ways to clear objects of unwanted energy, but she didn’t dare do it until she had ample privacy.
“What else do you like, Aveline?” her brother asked. “Do you like when I call you Aveline? I’ve been told Prince Teryn calls you Cora, like…like our mother used to.” His eyes turned down at the corners.
She could be honest and tell him she strongly preferred being called Cora, but she was supposed to embrace being Princess Aveline from now on. “You can call me whatever you prefer.”
He opened his mouth but his words were halted when a rider came up alongside them, edging in beside Lord Kevan. The messenger was not from their entourage, for he bore the white and gold rose sigil of Selay. Cora’s retinue rode beneath Khero’s standard—the black mountain on a purple background. “Message from King Verdian,” the rider said.
Cora watched as Lord Kevan took a letter from the messenger. He scoffed as he read it, then looked over his shoulder at Cora and Dimetreus. He offered a grin that looked more like a sneer. “It appears a guest will be joining us after we arrive at Ridine.”
“Who?” Cora asked.
“Queen Mareleau,” he said with a mocking laugh. “She is to serve as your companion while you get settled back into your role as princess.”
The news couldn’t have been more unfavorable. Her sole encounter with Mareleau had been enough to turn her heart against the girl until the end of time. Now that the brazen harpy was married to Teryn, Cora despised her even more. Before she could dwell on her sudden spike of jealousy, she bit out, “Why?”
Kevan nodded at the messenger, dismissing him, before returning his attention to Cora. His lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Probably to punish her for marrying a bastard.” He chuckled and faced forward again. “Pardon, I meantKing Larylis.”
Cora nearly dropped her reins in her shock. She blinked a few times, her mind reeling over what he’d said. “Lord Kevan, are you saying Mareleau has wed…Larylis Alante? Not Teryn?”
“So it would seem.”
Her mind flashed to the letter Lurel had delivered. The one she’d ignored, crumpled, and tossed into the hearth. She’d thought he’d wanted to meet with her as a married man, a friend seeking a fond farewell. She’d been too angry to respond, too hurt by the unwanted engagement he’d orchestrated, too desperate to leave Verlot to consider…
Regret pierced her heart, but she hardened it against the sting. It didn’t matter now. Whatever marriage politics had befallen Teryn, Larylis, and Mareleau, it was none of her concern. At least it meant she no longer had to marry Larylis.
And yet, a marriage alliance might still be required between Menah and Khero. It was one of Verdian’s terms.
Teryn might…no.
She shoved him from her mind. Never again would she give in to hope without due cause. Never again would she let her heart distract her from the reality at hand. She’d already established that love was the last thing she needed. Love equated to permanent attachments. To vulnerability. To giving up on who she really was.
She tried to focus on her current reality. That gave her far more pressing matters to concern herself with—getting home, ensuring her brother could make peace with his lost memories, helping him reestablish his role as king, and…
She gulped.
Tolerating the company of Mareleau.
