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My guts tangled inside my stomach. Fucking shit, I should have kissed her. Why hadn’t I kissed her? Were my hands the safest place for her to rest her heart? Probably not. Still safer than Malyr’s, though!
“Why buttons?” I asked. “Because you happened to pass Darien’s button jar, conveniently grabbing a random handful?”
“Actually, I sent a maid to grab me a random handful.” His handwriting continued in easy sways and elegant weaves, as if he wasn’t ruffling my feathers with his nonchalance. “If there was any part of me that still hoped to bond one day, it extinguished the night of thekjaerwhen I spoke oaths to a woman who will never truly be mine. But I will not gift her any of those treasures myanoahas been piling up for years to impress my mate. Some things are meant to stay with what could have been. Whatshouldhave been, had life not interfered.” Finally, he lifted the quill from the parchment and looked at me. “I figured that, among all the people surrounding me, you would understand best, considering that your lips never touched hers.”
My mouth turned dry. Great, now that I had his attention, I no longer wanted it…
I turned my head to stare out the window, immediately frowning at the flurry that whirled outside. “It’s snowing.”
Malyr looked outside, narrowed his eyes, then slammed the quill down with such force, the inkwell jumped, spilling black droplets that drowned out the fine letters. “Blasted mess!”
“It’s just snow, Malyr. Happens every winter. It’s not like we were planning to fly on the capital anytime soon…” I arched a brow at how he frantically pressed another parchment onto his writing, trying to soak up the excess ink. “What is that?”
“The reason I asked you here. This ruined letter to Lord Kullen was supposed to inform him that a party of fifty riders left Ammarett to head far north,” he said, rubbing his ink-stained finger on his breeches. “Under the banners of Prince Domren.”
Prince Domren…
I shifted in the chair, blood heating at the mere sound of his name. “What’s he doing north? So far outside his father’s walls?”
“Word about my betrothal to Galantia and the subsequent alliance with Tidestone must have finally reached the capital,” Malyr said. “My guess is as good as yours, but both Asker and I think Domren is trying to find himself a new bride in the unclaimed north.”
“And a new, closer ally right along with it,” I said, sensing myanoaspread its wings at my core, cawing, croaking, demanding that bastard’s guts. I owed them that. Owed that to every poor soul who lost their life because of my fucking stupidity! “We have to fly up there. How far north did we spot him? You said… what? Fifty riders?”
Malyr shrugged. “Give or take.”
“Archers?”
“Not from what the scouts reported. They don’t expect us to head this far north over it, and for good reason, Sebian. I merely shared this so you would be aware of his movements.”
“They’re out in the wide open without archers?” That was too golden an opportunity to pass up. “We can take them with half that if you send me with the best deathweavers and pathfinders!”
Malyr leaned deeper into his chair, allowing himself to slip down some before he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Not possible. Everyone is flying in and gathering for the wedding. Galantia will leave for Tidestone in eleven days. I cannot weaken our army like that over something that will give us nothing. The clans in the unclaimed north mostly quarrel with each other, so I’m barely concerned about the few men Ammarett might gain.”
“Maybe it’s nothing to you, but it’s the only thing that has kept me fucking breathing for the last five years.” Revenge. And it was so close. So close! “I’ll fly north myself,” I said and jumped from my chair, helping myself to one of the small maps on his desk. “Mark where he was spotted. I don’t need to face off fifty riders. One arrow and true aim is all I need. I’ll fucking kill him, be back before the wedding, and we’ll eat his fucking guts at the feast!”
ChapterThirty-Two
Galantia
Present Day, Deepmarsh Castle, stables
Bright energy pulsed in my fingertips as I ran my gloved hand down along the mane of Sebian’s gelding, watching the steamy plumes coming from his nostrils rise into the hay above, which he nibbled through the gaps in the wooden slats. I couldn’t wait to spend the day by the sea, watching Raven children jump off the cliffs. How wonderful it had to be, to fall toward waves before gliding across the endless water!
I turned toward the courtyard, impatiently casting my eyes over a square that had still been rather quiet when I’d come down here. Now, it bustled with highborn humans and newly-ascended Ravens alike, matching the excitement coursing through my veins. Where was Sebian? Malyr must have kept him engaged far longer than anticipated.
Behind me, hoovesclip-cloppedover cobblestone, followed by a deep, “Are you lost, little dove?”
I spun around, breath catching at the unexpected sight of Malyr standing beside a black horse, reins in hand. If he was here, then where…
Where was Sebian?
“I’m waiting for Sebian,” I said, taking in Malyr’s fine riding outfit of black leather and dark blue velvet, which matched the saddle blanket. “He’s to take me to the cliffs today.”
Malyr stroked the reins over the head of his horse and down to its withers, giving me a side glance. “It appears to me he must have forgotten.”
“He told me to wait here for him only moments ago.” Or an hour ago? I once more took in the bustling square, fingers stroking over my dress of brown silk and fox pelt, where a dull ache wormed through my belly. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
Of course he would.
