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“We have to go to Alcatraz, Del. We have to know what’s going on in there. Because, whatever it is, it’s why the troops are coming for our land.”
“What land?” she asked, then before I could answer, added, “What’s the prophecy?”
“Uncover and destroy the destructive force hidden under the earth in Death Valley,” I recited, lowering my voice even more. Uttering it aloud felt like I was giving it credence when I knew there was none.
“Death Valley?” Del’s eyes went wide. “You live in the desert?”
I nodded. “Mercenaries showed up a week or so ago and excavated soil samples. We followed them to Mantis, then here—well, Alcatraz, technically, where the order originated. That’s all I know.”
The door opened, and Garath stood in the doorway. He looked between us as if wondering if we planned on coming in. As his eyes shifted between Del and me, he stepped aside for us to enter the sitting room.
All I could do was stare at the boy sleeping on a couch by a low-burning fire. At his rumpled auburn hair and the way his arms wrapped around his pillow in his sleep.
“Are you all right, my lady?” A younger, fairer woman stepped into view and draped a blanket over the boy. As we stepped into the room, the woman’s eyes widened on Del, assessing the bruising on her neck that would not be easily hidden. The woman gasped and rushed over.
“I’m fine, Ada. Thank you.” Waving Ada’s concern away, Del hurried to her son, Ada trailing behind her. Del was careful not to wake him as she crouched and rested her hand on his cheek. Leaning in, she kissed his temple.
I stared between Del, the mother ofmyson, and Liam.The prince.
His face was scrunched against the velvet pillow, and while I knew Del would never lie to me about such a thing, I wished I could see him more clearly in the dim glow of the fire because this didn’t feel real. None of it did, and suddenly, I regretted not taking in the image of Liam projected by the hologram in Mantis more closely.
A blood-curdling scream pierced the night air outside the window, stirring me from my haze. And with renewed apprehension, I looked at Del. Our reverie was over.
“You should go now,” she said, rising to her feet. She eyed my dirty soldier uniform up and down. “You’ll draw more attention if you stay—attention we don’t need at the moment.”
The longer I lingered, the less I wanted to leave; I still had so many questions, and there was still so much to say. So much to know. But Del was right.
I looked at Liam again, then met the hard gaze Garath leveled on me.
“Fin,” Del said, resting her hand on my arm. “You must go. Now.”
“Will you be okay?” I asked. It seemed a stupid question, knowing how much she’d been through over the years. Still, it felt wrong to walk away—all of this felt so incredibly wrong.
“I’ll be fine. Now go, please. You know how to get out?”
I nodded.
“Good. Stay out of sight. We’ll figure out the rest as soon as we can. I promise.”
With three adamant gazes boring through me, I dipped my chin. It was all I could do to make myself turn and go, but I knew my presence would only cause Del more trouble. And with a final look at her glaring guard, I turned and left the princess I had longed to see again—and our son—behind.
12
Del
“Just give me the word, and I will gladly evict those entitled Sierra pricks,” Hills said, one elbow propped on the mantel. Embers glowed in the fireplace behind her legs, the last remnants of the fire she had started to drive the early morning chill from the room when we first convened our emergency meeting well over an hour ago.
Backlit by the pale-gray light of dawn, Garath stood by the window, scanning the misty castle grounds beyond the moat. Every time he glanced my way, shadows darkened his eyes. It was impossible not to suspect Fin was the one casting those shadows.
In the adjoining bedroom, Ada and the ravens watched over Liam, who was fast asleep on my bed.
I paced back and forth from the table by the window on one side of the sitting room to the pair of tall bookcases against the opposite wall. I paused in front of the narrow altar table wedged between the bookcases, holding the tall gray votive candle I burned every Friday night in honor of Zoe, the Patron of the Empaths. Her portrait hung on the wall above the candle, and a huge landscape painting spread over the top of the bookcases, portraying the Battle of Hope Valley.
Even now, even knowing Zoe wasn’t a goddess, I felt the urge to pluck a match from the jar beside the candle and light her votive. To pray to my Patron for guidance, as the Temple of the Seven Kingdoms had taught me to do.
I turned and headed back toward the window. Turned again and headed back toward the bookcases and altar. Over and over, back and forth, I paced, working through the potential ramifications of our next actions.
King Eduart would have received word of Alastor’s death by now. If we cleared Alastor’s people out of the castle and grounds, would it cast suspicion upon us? Uponme? Currently, Alastor’s death was believed to be a suicide, and the bloody evidence had been destroyed, but would King Eduart view my eviction of his subjects as proof of foul play? Would he see it as something planned or as a reaction to Alastor’s sudden and unexpected death?
