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“Doubtful.” I expect an indolent, indulgent, leering fool who believes he has every right imaginable—like most lords, yet so much worse. I don’t want to offend my willing informant, so I don’t dwell on it. “Anyone else?”
“Not that I can see right now.” To my surprise, he continues to unveil his kingdom’s secrets. “There are seven members of the royal circle, the king included. Silver and Vess are usually around him, but the others come and go. Two, we haven’t seen in some time in these parts—the general and the spymaster. They’re likely on assignments. That leaves the master of coin and the house of lords’ representative. I’m not certain they’ll show.”
Seven potential enemies, at least three with excellent combat training. The spymaster, the general, and the guard captain would cut me down at the first wrong move. But two of them are unaccounted for. That’s good. Great, in fact.
“That’s an interesting political structure.” I face Doryn again as I talk, and for the second time, I stare.
I wonder if this is how people feel when they look at me, too. Out of breath, a little dumber, slower to form a coherent thought or even remember what they were saying. I bite my lower lip. The kind of beauty this man wields is a weapon in itself. I’ve always known mine was a useful tool, but I’ve never found myself on the receiving end before.
Doryn’s stupidly tall and built for speed, his lithe muscles sculpted in a way no clothes can hide. His hair’s almost as long as mine, falling to the middle of his back. Silver-white, it looks soft, shiny. Inviting. I don’t even like to fuss with my own, but I’d love an excuse to run my fingers through his. The most striking of his features are his eyes, bright as gleaming sapphires.
Suddenly, I pity the fools who let me cheat them by batting my lashes.
“How does it work in the south?” he asks.
I shrug. “I’ve never been to court. I understand the king has a council he seeks advice from. I don’t think he calls it a circle.”
“Oh, our king also has a council. He just doesn’t trust them much.”
I frown, confused, for reasons other than the shine of his eyes. “Then why have a council at all?”
“It’s a bylaw. He inherited them from his father, and his father, from his own sire, Velenor.”
My stomach drops in the sheer horror that lineage implies. “The king’s Velenor’s own grandson?”
If it’s true, I’m in much deeper shit than I know how to paddle through.
I understand the magnitude of the task I am to accomplish for the first time. The elder gods weren’t just our rulers, they were our betters in every way. Having bound their life forces to an essential element, their power was incommensurable. Velenorwasdarkness. What would that make his grandson?
Our king, Alev of Xion, used to be the first advisor to the elder goddess of light, Mara-Rhea the Bright. She was lost to the ages without ever birthing an heir, so he succeeded her.King Alev is not agod,not even the close descendent of one. Just an immortal with a drop of eternal blood, like the rest of us.
I will myself to breathe out, and in again, remembering the shroud of magic enveloping my village, and the corpses—mummified, drained of life after he murdered every single one of them.
That made him one simple thing I couldn’t lose sight of. My target.
7
CALDORYN
I like this game of ours. I play the hound sniffing prey for this hunter, though it’s my flesh she’s stalking.
Like all games, it must end far too soon.
My herald taps the ground with his heavy staff and calls, “Her Highness the Queen Mother and High Priestess of Shade, Lady Lucyan Lore!”
I stiffen, eyes narrowing. Lucyan wasn’t invited tonight. In fact, she has never been invited here since the beginning of my rule, on the day I was born. But of course she’s here.
My mother knows I’ll never send her away. Refusing to suffer her presence would project weakness. I’m far better off letting her do as she pleases—so long as someone observes her every move.
Unlike the delightful woman by my side, Lucyan is a real threat. It’s a shame, but I can’t afford to keep this deception going. Besides, it’s only a matter of time before one of the curious onlookers from my court—staring at us increasingly intensely—gives me away.I’d rather unveil the truth on my terms.
“You wish to meet the king?” I smirk down at Rhea. “Let me introduce you.”
“Now?” she whispers, panic in her eyes.
So she’s smart enough to fear the shadow of my name, despite her purpose.
“No time like the present.” I take her hand to lead us through the parting crowd before she can form a word of protest.
