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From the shadows of the yard, Sol Ferus rushed toward the woman.
I had no business commanding a foreign royal, but I’d learned enough to know the royalty in the North did not balk at orders. If it kept their people safe and breathing, even the king would take a command.
Sol had the woman in his arms in the next breath and slowly eased her to the ground before she crushed her baby.
The yard was silent. No one would be free to signal the Black Palace until we were long gone.
A lock of silver hair blew in my face. Ari did not play games with his illusions, and it would be the only time, if I had to guess, the ambassador was silent. He sat back on his knees, eyes closed a pace or two from me.
Behind him, Elise winked at me as she finished inspecting a rune-etched dagger. Valen spoke to Luca, no doubt putting the finishing touches on the next move.
They were an impressive king and queen. I never thought I’d think such a thing. Most days I’d resented folk who lived in palaces and castles, but they had an aura about them. Utterly devoted to each other, but not above stepping into darkness to keep each other safe.
It was how I saw Kase. We were not heroes. I would be whatever wretch he needed if it meant he kept breathing. From what I’d seen of the Northern king and his queen, they would do—likely had done—the same.
“The stars are quiet tonight,” came a slight voice.
I had to do a double take when a plump woman stepped beside me. Eryka was also coated in illusions. The same as Hagen and Bard. Those most recognizable to the skydguard or Black Palace.
Eryka looked like she belonged in the cooking room with a bit of wheat flour spread over her cheeks. Her hair was the color of wet soil, her skin freckled like mine had been, and her fingers reminded me of thick herb rolls noblemen smoked when they gathered to praise themselves on their achievements.
Out of such a façade I’d expect a deep, commanding voice, but her wispy, breathless tone remained.
“What do you mean?” I followed her gaze to the sky.
“They do not speak to me.”
“Does it worry you?”
“It does.” She smiled.
The woman was odd, always having blissful reactions even when concerned.
“I don’t know what it means when the stars don’t speak to you.”
“It means I cannot see the path to take,” she said. “I’ve grown quite accustomed to knowing what steps feel right and which feel rather dreary. Now, in their silence, I am like a forgotten leaf on a tree blowing in the wind. Do I fall, or remain steadfast in my place?”
I smirked and handed her one of my daggers. “When mesmer is quiet, those are the moments we depend on instinct.”
Eryka eyed the blade. The slightest hint of disquiet was noticeable through her deep swallow. “I do not trust my instincts.”
“Then what made you come with us tonight? You insisted when you could’ve remained at Felstad. Your clear attraction to Gunnar? If it is, that is not a good enough reason, princess.” I sounded harsh, but there was no time for sniveling or lack of confidence in personal abilities when so much was at risk.
“I will not deny that looking at him causes my heart to feel rather strange. But I do not believe that is the reason.”
I had to bite my cheek to keep from snickering. She spoke with such a blunt innocence and had no idea.
Eryka considered what I said for another moment; her dreamy look never faded. “I suppose I came because it seemed like the right thing to do. To remain behind felt . . . unwise.”
“That is an instinct.”
She didn’t seem convinced. “The last time the stars were silent, I was imprisoned here.”
“And what made you turn to the East in their silence?”
One brow arched. “Well . . . knowing I would need to gather food and fresh water if I were to continue my journey into the sea. It was a choice.”
“Instinctto survive led you here. By doing so, you found your arrow in the darkness. What if your instincts are more aligned with the Norns than you give yourself credit for? You depend a great deal on your sight, but there is a brain in your head, and you’ve used it to stay alive thus far.”
