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Chapter1
The Night Prince
Kingdom of Etta
The moon was red.Not bright like fresh blood, more rusted like blood had spilled but dried a day before. For two nights the vibrancy had shifted. Pale pink, like a fleshy scar, then a touch of red, now it was a strange collision of the sunset and a scab.
My mother hated it. Since the first shade over the pale surface, Lilianna Ferus stepped into the open gardens and studied the sky. Surrounded by the silver petals of moonvane, it would be a near peaceful sight if not for the groove between her brows.
My daj said it was nothing, told us to leave her be, but tonight, when his gaze tracked her on her procession from the great hall, I caught the twitch to his lip. Arvad Ferus was a brilliant leader, but a horrid schemer.
Memories of boyhood, playing game hall games at our family’s table, I’d been able to best him by the time I turned ten merely by watching the tells of his face.
If concern for my mother was there, his face flinched, as if he fought the urge to speak or press her for thoughts. Or as if the notion of Maj being distressed simply added to his own.
Perhaps it was exhaustion or irritation at the lack of word from our people in the South, but I was done wondering about my mother’s thoughts. In truth, her unease troubled me. Was I the damn king or not? I could play the bold leader who could demand words from his stubborn mother, or I could make this simpler by wielding the fiercest weapon against Lilianna’s guard. I chose the latter.
“Wear her down, little love.” I tucked the cozy linen blanket tighter around Livia’s tiny body, adjusted her dark, fuzzy head in the crook of my elbow, then took the bold step into the gardens.
My mother was slender, two heads shorter than me, but Timoran blood was fierce. The only one who frightened me as much as my own mother was my wife.
“Maj.” I stopped at her side. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I thought you might want to have a few more peeks of this girl before we leave on the morrow.”
My mother turned over her shoulder. At once, her gaze dropped to the bundle in my arms. The discomfited furrow on her forehead faded, replaced by a wide grin. “Oh, let me see her.”
She scooped Livia from my arms, crooning and pressing gentle kisses to the babe’s head as she rocked side to side.
“Must you take her from me so early?” she muttered, not truly to me, still to my daughter. “We are going to the vows soon enough.”
Gunnar was supposed to be taking vows within the month, but the silence from the isles left more dread in my chest than excitement for my nephew.
“The other kingdoms need to meet the new royal,” I said. True enough, traditions once held in Etta were such that when a new royal was born to a bloodline, foreign nobles and royals always arrived to share in the celebration. With the new Ettan heir, we altered tradition and insisted we’d be taking Livia to the allied kingdoms ourselves.
My mother smirked. “Be honest, son. You’re taking her because Herja wants to see Malin and Gunnar, and you are suspicious of the South.”
I glanced at the strange moon to disguise the truth in my frown. Over a turn ago, Bracken had left the Black Palace as our ally.
Or so I thought.
It had been over a month since I’d received a single missive from Gunnar or Ari. Herja insisted she wrote to her son to announce Livia’s birth. I’d half expected Ari to arrive with mounds of Southern gold by the second day.
He’d not even written a word.
Nor had Gunnar.
Elise was hurt at first, then annoyed. Now, like me, she was concerned.
I knew Ari better than I knew Gunnar sometimes. The ambassador was utterly devoted to Etta, and had sent a missive each week in the final months of Elise’s time carrying Livia, simply to assure us all was well and he wanted us to fret over nothing in the isles. Like always, the bastard would end the missive with a line insisting to his queen he would be honored to be a stepfather to our daughter if she finally came to her senses and chose him to be her king.
Of course, he’d end it with a vow of love and affection to me, a jab, but also earnest. Everything about Ari was flowery and busy, but under the words was sincerity. The killer came out in him in the right moments; the brutal warrior he could be was dependable as the sunrise.
I knew him, and something was not right.
“Can you fault me for being concerned?” I finally asked, clasping my hands behind my back.
My mother sighed. “I do not blame you for following your instincts, however, I don’t like the idea of you bringing your daughter with you.”
“Maj, I’d never put her in harm’s way. Besides, it’s a good opportunity to take stock of what is going on in other lands, to show unity.” She nodded and glanced at the moon again. I nudged her with my shoulder. “Will you tell me why it bothers you? The moon.”
