AllFreeNovel
Share Us
After all the dead ends our investigation has run into, it’s hard to feel sure of anything.
“We’ve been ruled by the Melchioreks since we threw off Darium’s rule,” Petra points out. “I don’t think King Konram is doing anything especially different from the kings and queens before, and the daimon didn’t act out with them.”
The spiky-haired guy nods. “That’s true too. Who knows what’s gotten them riled up? I just hope someone figures it out soon so that we can have a little more peace around here again.”
Why is Petra invested in what people think of the royal family anyway? I eye her for a moment longer and then jerk my gaze away.
Right. Julita told me she’s related to the queen somehow. Of course she’d care.
Now I’m getting as paranoid as Julita is with Wendos. Even if Petra was trying to cover up illicit magic, it’d make sense for her to encourage other explanations for the daimon’s unrest, not quash them.
As Stavros ambles over to us along with the rest of the class, the spiky-haired guy turns to him. “Ster. Stavros, you said you’d go over the final stages of the Battle of Bartosa with those of us who wanted to know before the end of class. Can we still discuss that?”
A few other students perk up with obvious interest. Stavros glances around at them and smiles wryly. “I don’t go back on my promises. But you’ll have to tolerate the classroom a little longer. We’ll need the map.”
His gaze slides to me. I can’t really contribute anything to a conversation about a battle I wasn’t present for and know less about than any of his students do. And we already put off an earlier lunch because of the timing of his classes.
To my surprise, he tips his head toward the college buildings. “Go get yourself something to eat, Ivy. I’ll see you later.”
At first, I assume he’s decided that his constant presence over the last few days will ward off any new attempts at harassment for at least a couple of hours. But as I head over to the Quadring to pass through to the Domi, I notice a familiar blond figure ducking inside some twenty paces ahead of me.
Benedikt ambles along in the same direction I’m heading without glancing back, the whole trek to the hallway outside the dining hall. Where Alek just happens to be leaning against the wall at the opposite end of the hallway while perusing a book.
Alek looks up, appears to catch Benedikt’s eye, and gives a nearly imperceptible nod. As Benedikt saunters on past the dining hall, Alek pushes off the wall as if to enter.
Ah. So Stavros made some kind of plan with the other men to watch for threats to me. I guess that’s better than him feeling he needs to personally supervise my every move.
How adorable, Julita says with a mildly scoffing tone.They’ve decided they’re not just conspiracy fighters but your own personal bodyguard as well. Not as if you need it.
My irritation at their surveillance vanishes beneath a deeper annoyance with her. It’shersafety they care about at least as much as mine—she could be grateful she matters that much to them.
I stride on toward the dining hall as if I haven’t noticed the subtle hand-off between the men, but I’ve only made it a few steps before a voice booms through the hallways from around the bend Benedikt was making for.
“All still and proper to acknowledge His Royal Highness, the honorable King Konram!”
Everyone in the hall—Benedikt, Alek, and the scattered nobles who were passing by—jerks to a halt and draws themselves up stiffly straight against the wall. I imitate them, my heart skipping a beat.
The announcer couldn’t seriously mean—
But he did. A man with a voice-projecting horn marches into view, followed by three members of the Crown’s Watch… and a head of dark brown hair topped with a gleaming crown right behind them.
Three more guards bring up the rear of the procession. I stare as they stop by Benedikt, and King Konram holds out his hand to shake the younger man’s. Benedikt grins at him with obvious awe.
I guess a bastard’s bastard doesn’t get much face time with his half-uncle.
My hands are sweating. I grasp the folds of my gown’s skirt with a weird sense of gratitude that I’m dressed for a classroom lecture rather than the field exercise it turned into. As if the ruler of our realm really cares about my personal fashion choices.
As the procession continues toward me, my pulse thumps faster. With each step, the king’s face comes into sharper focus.
There are the deep-set eyes and imposing nose that caught the shadows when he gazed down from the temple balcony at the riven sorcerer on the hangman’s platform. The thin lips and jutting chin that tensed with his displeasure.
Those lips are curved into a reassuring smile now. He stops to say a few words to every figure in the hall.
As the group closes in on me, my spine goes even more rigid. An ache runs down my legs with the urge to bolt.
Running like a maniac will get me killed a lot sooner than pretending I have no problems here. No problem at all facing the man who’d happily approve my murder.
I don’t need to wonder why he’s making this gesture. Stavros’s students gave an explanation enough.
