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Mak’s spell enfolded them, her last comfort before the pavilion disappeared. Her panic gained the upper hand again.
They were leaving the Sanctuary.
Dark stone closed around her. Damp, chilly air sank into her bones. Voices filled her ears with the Vulgar Tongue.
Knight broke away from her, muscling through the crowded room to sniff every corner for potential dangers. Cassia drew a shaking breath into her tight throat and tried to calm her pounding heart, but to no avail. Orthros was so, so far away.
But Lio was right here. Their gazes found each other across the solar, across the lifeless body of the first casualty. She searched her Grace’s gaze, Willing him to hear her thoughts. I know you’re not all right. But I’m here now.
She felt him touch the mind ward, but it was not a reassuring caress. It was a declaration. My Grace.
That was when she remembered Flavian. She took in his tense posture and the way he glared at Lio. Bleeding thorns. Lio had not made a conciliatory first impression. At all.
Flavian did not quite hide his astonishment at the sight of Hoyefe, Kella, and Tilili. But when he looked at Solia, he seemed to forget everyone else in the room. Despite whatever Benedict had said to prepare him, Flavian looked as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Your Highness.” He came out from behind the desk. The bow he gave her was faultless, despite his disheveled appearance.
Flavian could usually manage to look dashing after a stroll through a dung heap. Not tonight. The only time Cassia had seen him like this, he’d been deep in his cups. But there wasn’t a whiff of alcohol in the room now, and he no longer wore his amulet of Hedon. It was duty, not pleasure, that had reduced him to this.
“Flavian.” Solia’s omission of his title made his name sound gentle, a reminder of their sweet princess from years ago. “It’s been a long time.”
“A lifetime.” He put a hand to his chest. “I regret pouring syrup in your shoes when we were ten. You don’t know how often I have thought of it, since…”
“Ah, yes. The infamous night when I danced through the king’s entire ball with my shoes stuck to my feet.”
Pain, fleeting but genuine, flashed across Flavian’s face. “You loved those shoes. Because Iris embroidered them for you. I am so sorry.”
A moment of silence passed between them.
Then Flavian was turning to Cassia. Approaching her. He said her name.
He had addressed her as “my lady” when she had left. When had she become Cassia to him?
“My lord,” she replied.
He reached for her hand. She felt Lio’s response like a quake in their Union. This small gathering of onlookers was a powerful deterrent that kept her Grace frozen across the short length of the room.
But before Flavian could touch her, Knight pushed in front of her and gave a quiet, warning growl.
Flavian lifted his hands in surrender, looking a bit hurt. “Easy there, boy. Have you forgotten me already?”
She made herself give Flavian a conciliatory smile. A few minutes in his presence, and she was already plastering brittle, false smiles on her face for him again.
“I feared I would never see you again,” Flavian said. “Thank the gods you’re safe.”
“Of course I am. Our Hesperine allies would allow no harm to come to me.” She hesitated, studying the weary man whom she had groomed to take the throne. “Are you all right?”
He gave a slight laugh. There was an edge to it. “We have much to discuss, you and your sister and I.”
He reached for Solia’s hand next, as if intending to kiss it, but too late. She was pressing her fingers to the dead sentry’s throat.
Watching her touch a corpse without hesitation, Flavian protested, “Eudias, let us entrust Hamon to the undertakers now that the ladies are here.”
“Give me a moment,” Solia requested.
Flavian opened his mouth to protest, then dropped his hand. “Of course.”
Ben bowed his head. “You are as kind as Tenebra remembers, Your Highness.”
