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“There are many, among my kind, who consider men superior to women.”
“Why would they believe this?” Aurdyn frowns. “In my experience, human females are far braver, and thus superior to human males.”
I cannot help the swell of pride that fills my chest at his words. A smile tugs at my lips as I think on his meeting with Inara. She’s always been very outspoken. “I’m guessing from your statement that Inara was not afraid of you.”
“On the contrary. The sour smell of her fear was potent when I first arrived, and yet… if not for this scent, I would never have imagined she was afraid.” He gives me a thoughtful look. “She was able to mask it well, and did not hesitate to speak her mind. She reminded me very much of you in this way.” His gaze holds mine evenly. “Bravery is not the absence of fear. It is having courage in spite of one’s fear.”
Behind the throne dais, I notice a long rectangular stone table. “What is that?”
“Where I hold my council,” he says. “It is composed of Brovyn—my cousin and advisor—and seven representatives sent from each of the seven Great Houses of our people.”
“There are seven Great Houses?”
“Ours is the Eighth House,” he replies. Sharp pain stabs my chest at how he included me in this, already considering me part of his Great House even though I have still not accepted him as my mate.
The sound of the doors swinging open draws our attention as Brovyn walks in. Two guards seal them shut behind him as he walks toward us. He dips his chin in quick greeting, not bothering with any small chat as he gets straight to the business of what he has learned.
“I’ve spoken with members of each Great House. And three of them strongly agree that we should do whatever we can to stop the Mages, especially if they are using the Wraith as weapons of war.” His gaze sweeps to mine. “And they’ve expressed they would not be opposed to aiding the human kingdoms in quelling this threat.”
“This is good,” Aurdyn says, but I note the deep line of worry that still creases his forehead. “But what of the other Houses?”
“They are, as yet, undecided,” he replies grimly.
With the others still left to declare where they fall on the issue, Aurdyn could fail to gain the support he needs to aid Florin or Ruhaen, if necessary.”
“Any word from our scouts in Ruhaen or from Florin?” Aurdyn asks. “Surely, the raven with Freyja’s message has reached King Edmynd by now?”
“Perhaps it has, and he is suspicious,” Brovyn offers.
I hate that he’s right. But Edmynd would definitely be wary, believing that I am under some sort of distress when I wrote it. “Hopefully, he understood the personal line I wrote at the top of the letter,” I offer. “It was a sort of code we all used when we were children.”
Brovyn arches a brow. “Which reminds me… I meant to ask: what exactly is a narwick mouse?”
A small laugh escapes me. “It’s a tiny mouse-like creature that makes a distinct and rather cute cry when it signals its people.”
“How did this sound become a code for you?” Aurdyn asks.
“When I’d visit, we would often sneak out of the castle and go on adventures in the gardens and the forests at night.” A wistful smile curves my lips at the memories. “We were children and we would pretend we were in search of gold or treasure, or”—I stop short of saying ‘slaying a Dragon,’ and instead offer—“Or riding unicorns.”
I continue. “Whoever snuck out first would watch for the guards to leave and then they would signal us, making a sound like a narwick mouse, that it was all clear to sneak out of the castle, so we would not get caught. Like this,” I demonstrate the soft sound, and Aurdyn and Brovyn each arch a brow.
“Simple, yet effective. Rather ingenious to be honest,” Brovyn says, and I tilt my head up with pride. “As for our scouts in Ruhaen,” he says, his expression falling. “They reported the arrival of at least a dozen Mages, but no Wraith thus far.”
“And my uncle?” I ask. “How is he? Did they see him?”
The look in his eyes makes my stomach drop. “He has fallen ill.”
“What?” I ask, unable to hide my panic. “How? What kind of illness?”
“He is too weak to leave his bed most days,” he replies. “At least, that is what they’ve heard from a few of the castle workers.
I look between the two of them. “They’re going to kill him, Aurdyn. We have to do something.”
“We will,” he reassures me. “I am meeting with the Council tomorrow to discuss it.” He takes my hands. “In the meantime, I do not believe the Mages will kill him. Not yet, anyway. They need him to act as the figurehead ruler while they work behind the scenes to slowly transition his power to them.”
I hope he’s right. And I pray the Council will agree to drive out the Mages in Ruhaen.
“How do you think the Council will vote?” I ask.
