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Before he could walk away, Imara called, “Ranon?” She waited until he looked back at her. “I know Grayson will be grateful to hear of your continued friendship.”
Ranon's gaze warmed. He dipped his chin and left.
Before Kaz could close the door, Imara had her next visitor—her cousin, Grandeur. In truth, she was surprised he hadn’t sought her out before now. She supposed every reprieve must end eventually.
Grandeur left his bodyguard in the hall, and after a pointed look at Kaz, Imara sighed. “You can leave us, Kaz.”
Her guard did not appear thrilled, but he obeyed.
Grandeur eyed her leg as he took the chair Ranon had just vacated. “I meant to visit you sooner, but I must have been given the wrong impression of your injury. I thought you were still bedridden.”
“I can move around well enough,” she said. It might have been a lie, but with Desfan and Kaz, she managed.
Grandeur inclined his head. “I’m glad to hear it, cousin.”
His tone wasn’t overly sincere, but at least he wasn’t openly mocking. She released a slow breath. “What do you want, Grandeur?”
“I want to know why Serene went to Zennor. She acted against our father’s orders, so she’d better have a good reason for it.”
Ah, that was the arrogant, demanding Grandeur she knew. “Mortise is on the brink of war with Ryden,” she said. “Serene wants to secure my father’s help in any coming conflict.”
“She’s trying to broker a treaty between Mortise and Zennor?” Grandeur snorted. “She has no right to represent either side.”
“She’s half-Zennorian, and she’s Desfan’s future wife.” She tried to ignore how those words stung her throat.
“She isn’t Desfan’s wife yet,” Grandeur said. “And her first loyalty should always be to Devendra. By excluding Devendra in these talks, she’s turning against her own people.”
“You know she’s not,” Imara responded firmly. “Stop making her out to be some kind of traitor. She came to Mortise to marry Desfan—for the good of Devendra. She’s protecting all of us by trying to formalize a treaty before war comes.” Her head cocked to the side; after a brief debate, she decided to push him. “Perhaps you’re just feeling jealous you didn’t think of doing it first? You’ve always been second to her—even in birth.”
Grandeur’s gaze darkened. “Your hatred of me is misplaced.”
“Is it? We’ve been annoying each other for years.”
“That’s because you’re endlessly irritating.”
Imara’s eyes narrowed. “What by all the fates happened to you? You and Serene used to be close. Then you became . . .this.”
“I grew up,” Grandeur said. “I learned that life can be cruel, and no one can be truly trusted.” He leaned back in his chair, clearly settling in. “We are family, Imara—regardless of our personal feelings. And I came to ask a favor.”
She snorted. “You certainly broached the topic with delicacy.”
He ignored that. “You have a friendship with Desfan. I would like you to suggest that he give me authority to oversee Salvation. They are Devendran citizens, and I would like to look after them.”
“They fled Devendra,” Imara pointed out. “And they live on Mortisian soil now.”
“Do you think Desfan would be more amenable to me relocating them, then?”
A chill swept down her spine. “You would force all those people back to Devendra?”
“I would help them get back home, yes. It would require a contingent of my guard, naturally, but they could be summoned from the outpost at Lythe quite easily.”
“Desfan won’t allow you to bring even a fraction of your army into Mortise.”
Grandeur’s expression hardened. “Blunt as ever, Imara.”
“I’m only speaking the truth. Stop wasting your time and Desfan’s. He’s not going to allow a foreign prince to take over any part of his lands. If that’s the only reason you came to Mortise, you might as well leave.”
“Oh, I don’t see any reason to leave just yet.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m learning a great deal. For instance, the fact that Ryden seems especially fixated on Mortise. Sending the Rydenic princes here, and learning the details of their attack . . . Perhaps we were too hasty in allying with Mortise and promising the use of our army, in the event of an attack onourlands. I think my father would be interested to know about this, and some of the other nuances I’ve been picking up.”
