AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It seemed to be an ordinary letter—just teenagers engaging in a bit of palatial gossip. But under the glow of the solar light…
i miss you please come back
The scribbled words at the end of the yellowing parchment were stitched together, as though penned quickly in one breath. My fingers ghosted over it, too afraid to touch it directly in case the fraying ink dissolved into the pad of my thumb.
I imagined Zoei stealing into her Sire’s protected study and breaking into the pots of special ink. Her breathing would cease, limbs tight with concentration as she reached for the quill, dipping it in the watery pot of invisible ink. The scratch of the words on the paper would seem much too loud.
It was the last personal correspondence I’d ever received from her—until the official notices from the House of Highblade started pouring in a few years ago. I’d secreted each one away into my study, eagerly examining them under lamplight, chest tightening with hope that she would include yet another message meant only for me.
But the hope was as foolish as my desire to one day repair the broken bond between Vetri and Agnivale.
Her letters brought nothing but grief—to my nation, and to my soul. Notices of trade cessations, increased border controls, limitations on the export of Vetri-grown produce…
Before my eyes, our once unified kingdoms had fallen apart. And for what? A mistake our parents had unwittingly made decades prior?
I glanced up at father’s portrait as I had countless times before, trying and failing to understand why—why, why, why—he would risk the peaceful accord of two kingdoms for his own selfish pleasure. He knew, better than anyone, that mother’s temper and ego were unmatched by any other Alpha in our realm, and to disobey her was to sign away his rights to a tolerable existence.
I’d pondered that very question for years—decades.And the conclusion I drew each time was that father’s affair had had nothing at all to do with logic, and everything to do with passion. Reckless, ruinous passion. The kind better kept hidden between pages of a book, or locked away in the recesses of someone’s mind.
Reality had no forbearance for something as calamitous aspassion.
A knock sounded at the study door in quick succession, reminding me of the need for haste. I glanced at my likeness in the small gilded hand mirror on the desk, wishing I could swipe away the peachy blush that dusted my cheeks. While the piqued look was the height of fashion in Vetri’s court, I despised the vulnerability it belied.
But there was no altering genetics. I had come to terms with that fact.
“Wish me luck,” I whispered to no one in particular, stuffing the letters back in their eternal resting place.
Chapter Three
Olympia
We’d arrived with hours to spare.
The coronation had been scheduled for sunset, and the guest wing thrummed with nobility and dignitaries from neighboring kingdoms. The parlor had been refurbished recently, and although a skilled hand had slicked paint across the centuries-old cornicing and ceiling medallions, a faint whiff of chemicals dimmed the novelty of the historic building. We were ushered to our rooms through a private covered walkway, and led to a suite of interconnected chambers. A flurry of staff followed in our wake.
A butler with a distinguished mustache waited in the lobby between our rooms. He was dressed in livery that set him apart from other waitstaff—a neatly pleated crimson coat with bullion braids on each shoulder. Dark pantaloons flared around his thighs and tapered at his ankles.
A tray with sweating flutes of sweetened juice was balanced perfectly in his hand.
Before he could speak, Cryssa began with a question. An ivory-handled fan snapped open, and she tilted her chin up, airing her neck.
“Have the Brimwoods arrived?”
It was very much like Cryssa to get straight to the point without mincing words. We had discussed our agenda on the hovercraft ride—with less than a day in Highblade Palace, we would need to be tactical in order to tick everything off our checklist. Divide and conquer, as it were.
Cryssa had set up meetings with delegates and ambassadors from key metal exporters like Clovend and Nestia, while I was due to speak with several council members from the Jewel archipelago.
We had one common duty, however, and that was to schedule an audience with our High Nestian counterparts. Cryssa was truly concerned that the Brimwoods had yet to accept their invitation to our nuptials later this year, and while I was more concerned about what that meant for our political ties, I was happy to oblige Cryssa in her quest to acquire our most influential guests.
The butler shook his head, drawing my attention back to him.
“Not yet, I’m afraid, Lady Cryssa. But they are expected within the hour.”
Cryssa nodded curtly, thanking him. “Excellent.”
“Are you seeking an audience with the Brimwoods?” he queried, offering me a flute by the stem.
“Nothing quite so formal,” Cryssa said, folding the fan with a smack against her palm. “Perhaps a drink before dinner or a night cap would suffice.”
