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“A land where …?” he pushes.
“Where mortals live free, and immortals live in hiding.”
He harrumphs. “If such a place exists, I should think I will not be visiting.”
“It was only a silly fable, of course. Anyway, our keeper taught me to read it. I wish I still had it.” I hadn’t been allowed back to the house to collect my belongings after Lord Danthrin purchased me. I was barely allowed to hug my parents goodbye.
I feel the king’s gaze on me as we walk. “I’m happy to hear there are good keepers out there.”
“Yes, Cordin was kind and fair.” That’s probably what made where I ended up so much harder to stomach.
As if reading my mind, the king asks, “How did Danthrin acquire you?”
“On Presenting Day in Baymeadow. It is a larger village near—”
“The Plains of Aminadav. Yes, I have men from the area.” His brow furrows. “Freywich is many days’ travel from there, is it not?”
“Yes. Lord Danthrin was there for trade at the time. Selling mead, if I recall.”
“Before this terrible blight that devastated his crops?”
I steal a glance at the king to see his doubtful smirk. He knows my previous keeper lied to the crown to avoid paying tithe. Why didn’t he execute him for it?
“So that is the only book you’ve ever read? This fable of the mortal girl on an adventure?” he asks before I have the chance to ask my question.
“The only one. I could probably recite it line for line.”
The king slips behind an iron circular staircase, crouching down to inspect a small nook in the wall.
I admire his broad shoulders, his powerful thighs.
“No little mortal boys hiding in here.” Sliding back out, he leads us in another direction. “You must feel indebted to Princess Romeria after what she did for you. Rescuing you from a keeper like that.”
I hesitate, afraid the truth will lose me favor with him.
“It’s all right.” He smiles softly. “I just pray that never outweighs your obligations to me as your king.”
“Never, Your Highness.”
He nods, more to himself. “And how are you finding your time here?”
“Wonderful. I am thankful every day for … I’m thankful.” For that traitor.
“Have you made many friends?”
“Uh … a few. Corrin, for one.”
He snorts. “I didn’t think that one was capable, with all her bossing around.”
“She terrified me at first,” I admit.
He leans in to mock whisper, “She still terrifies me half the time.”
“She does not.” My laughter erupts unbidden upon the comical image of this battle-hearty Islorian commander—and king!—afraid of a tiny mortal whose forehead reaches his chest.
A secret smile touches his lips, and my cheeks flush.
“Who else have you befriended since?”
I sense he’s gathering information on me, but I don’t mind. I have nothing to hide. “Um … Dagny. That’s the seamstress—”
His chuckles interrupt me. “I think everyone in the castle knows Dagny, for better or worse.”
“And Sabrina has been kind to me.”
He flinches at the mention of his tributary’s name. “Yes, she is special.”
Is. None in the household has seen her since last night, but she’s still alive, at least. “She watches over my daughter often.” I hesitate. “Lilou was asking after her this morning. She hopes she will come play with her again soon.”
The king opens his mouth, but stalls. Whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t say it. “It is good to find a few trusted friends, and keep them close.”
“Do you have any of those?”
“My two captains. We’ve fought together for many years. I trust them with my life.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” Especially if you’re marrying that monster from Kettling.
The king leads me to a pavilion draped with vines of bold fuchsia and sapphire flowers, some the size of my palm.
“These are beautiful.” I reach up to rub one of the petals between my fingertips. “They feel soft, like velvet.” Lady Danthrin had a blue velvet dress. That’s the only time I’ve ever felt fabric like that.
“They were my mother’s favorite.” Plucking a smaller bloom off its stem, the king saunters over and tucks it in my braid, his fingertips grazing my temple in the process, sending a tremble through my core. His eyes drift over my face, lingering on my mouth.
My cheeks flush at the attention. He is a natural flirt, that much is obvious.
The king hops down from the dais and dives behind a thick and sturdy bush. He frowns with disappointment. “Your son might be smarter than I was at his age.”
“There doesn’t seem to be a secret passage or trap door he can’t find,” I admit.
His gaze wanders the library. “What’s his name again?”
“Mika.”
“Mika!” he bellows, his deep voice carrying through the library. “This is your king. Your mother and I are looking for you, and we need you to come out now.”
Silence answers.
“Maybe he’s not here, after all.” Fates knows where he might be, then.
