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She suspected, based on the timing of Tinsley’s coffee refill, that he witnessed at least some of their exchange. But if Aric was asking her to stay and be with him, she wasn’t going to do so as some dirty secret. Still, she watched Aric from the corner of her eye as Tinsley dutifully poured the dark brown liquid into their mugs, and she saw no sign of discomfort or irritation. Only the grin he flashed her when he caught her watching.
Rochelle was polishing off a second croissant-like pull-apart roll, well aware she’d eaten more than she should have and too happy about it to care, when Aric’s Connector Stone spiraled into the air. Her eyes widened and she nearly swallowed her final bite down her windpipe, though she was comforted somewhat to see the color was neither orange nor red—the colors of urgency. She hadn’t memorized all of the colors yet, but those and the neutral gray of the outgoing call had been easy enough.
Wait…She actually recognized the magical essence emanating from the stone.
Aric reached out with his own magic, stabilizing the Connector Stone, and said, “Good morning.”
“I hope I didn’t interrupt breakfast,” Cecilia’s disembodied voice replied. “I was able to talk to Raoul Silje and several others here. I thought you’d like to hear the report.”
Rochelle did her best to keep quiet as she reached for the juice Tinsley had also set out. It seemed there was something else that had gone on that Aric had been a little too distracted to tell her, because she certainly didn’t know anything about Cecilia interrogating Raoul Silje.
Aric sipped calmly at the last of his coffee. “You made good time,” he said. “Give me the short version.”
Cecilia made a sound that carried over like a sigh. “The short version is that no one in Vanarré can figure out where this story of multiple invasions came from. Silje is exceedingly forthright, and I don’t have any reason to suspect the soldiers I’ve spoken to, either. Although, I was asked to pass along the request that you knock some sense into whatever idiot thought it was a good idea to stir up that fear.”
Rochelle found herself staring at the floating rock in wide-eyed confusion. Cecilia was saying there was no evidence of further invasions after the one in Corast?But—It dawned on her like a slap upside the head, and she gasped out loud. Aric had gotten that information from Denham. The whole thing had been some bizarre setup.
“Thank you, Cecilia,” Aric said. “I’m sorry you had to rush out there for nothing.”
“Is that it?” Viveca said, suddenly speaking over whatever Cecilia had started to say. “We’re just coming home?”
“Rest first,” Aric said. “What’s left is for me to handle.” He cut the call before either woman could respond, caught the descending stone, and focused his stare on Rochelle. “I see you drew the same conclusion I have.”
She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse. “But why would he have lied to you?” She wasn’t an idiot. She had one guess, considering what had happened, but to send Aric on that sort of wild goose chase for the purpose of abducting her seemed asinine.
Aric stood, tucked the stone away, and held out his hand for her. “We’re not going to get that answer by sitting around here.”
Rochelle slipped her hand into his without hesitation and let him help her up. “You aren’t suggesting we just barge into the castle and confront theElder Prince?”
“Of course not.” Aric tugged her up to him and brushed his lips over hers for a short, teasing kiss. “Not yet.”
She opened her mouth to demand what that was supposed to mean, because she couldn’t think of a scenario where that worked out well for even one of them, but he laid a finger over her lips.
“We’re going to have to do some legwork,” Aric said. “And I may need your eyes. Will you trust me?”
She was no less confused, but that didn’t change her answer. “I already do.”
****
He would have preferred Rochelle’s idea of simply barging into the castle and confronting the Elder Prince in the public eye. Would that have disrupted his friendly relationship with King Jensen? Possibly. There was also the unpleasant possibility that King Jensen was part of whatever scheme Denham had cooked up. It was that, more than anything, that had him looking for an alternative option. If immediately calling Denham out and burning the flesh off the lying, abusive bastard’s bones wasn’t an option, then his next best bet was research.
That meant going back to the eastern mountains.
They appeared outside, in front of the partially blocked-off entrance to the cave where Rochelle had previously been held. In the light of day, and with the lack of pressing urgency distracting his focus, Aric realized they were only one mountain over from the site of Trisha’s tragic accident so many years before. He couldn’t help but question whether or not that was really the horrific coincidence he’d hoped.
Beside him, Rochelle curled her arms around herself. “Is this … where he held me?”
Her question sharpened his focus. Aric laid a hand on her shoulder. “Yes. I know it might be upsetting coming back, but I’m with you this time. I won’t leave you alone.”
She was silent for several seconds, then turned her head to look up at him. “What are we looking for?”
There was less fear, less discomfort, in her eyes than he’d expected. He was proud of her for her strength and simultaneously concerned at what she might have endured before they’d met that had helped her learn how to steel herself so swiftly. He knew the truth of where she came from now, but she hadn’t told him a lot of detail about the life she’d led in her old world. Only that she had no place in it any longer. Aric understood, better than likely anyone else, what it took to reach that conclusion—it was that understanding that made his chest tighten with something like concern.
He pushed those thoughts aside for another time. There would be opportunity for reflection, maybe even conversation, later. They had an objective to achieve and it wasn’t smart to assume they had a large timeframe in which to get it done. “Anything unusual,” he said in response to her question. “Anything that doesn’t belong in a cave. Anything that catches our eye.”
Rochelle let out a sigh. “A sign, then.”
“Precisely.” In particular, he wanted to see if he could find any traces of the magical fire that had transported Denham out of his grasp before. It was a longshot, but he’d won unlikely bets before. He slid his hand down her arm until he had tucked her smaller one in his palm. “Come on,” he said. “The longer we wait, the less there will be to find.”
