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“Prince Vale, may I help you?” a healer greeted, her hair a mess, but her tone bright.

“I’ve come to visit my friend, Sir Qildor, if he’s awake?” I lifted the bag I’d brought with me, filled with the knight’s favorite treat. “And I brought meat sticks. He’s permitted to eat them, correct?”

“He can eat whatever he likes. No wine or ale, of course. They hinder healing, but meat sticks are acceptable. And yes, he’s awake. Others are visiting him.”

“Oh.” I craned my neck to peer around her but didn’t see Sir Qildor or anyone else I recognized in the beds. “Who is visiting him?”

Should it be his family, I did not wish to intrude.

“Lord Virtoris and Lord Balik.”

“Vidar and Sian?” I found it unlikely that the high lords of the great houses would be present, but best to check.

“Yes, my prince.”

Great minds thought alike, it seemed.

“Show me where he’s resting.”

The healer led me deeper into the sanctuary, to the private rooms for longer term patients. Back here it was relatively quiet. Such a drastic change from the day I’d carried Neve in here and pulled glass from her cuts. The day I knew I wanted to learn more about her.

The healer stopped and knocked on a closed door before opening it slightly. “Sir Qildor, the prince is here to see you.”

“Vale?” Qildor asked hesitantly.

“Yes, Prince Vale.”

“About time,” Sian said loudly.

“It is,” I agreed, moving into the room as the healer stepped aside and shut the door behind me. “I should have come earlier.”

I should have come every day.

“Are you well, Qildor?” I tried to ignore the guilt I felt at his situation.

My friend, my brother in the cabal, smiled from where he sat in his bed, leaning back against the headboard, a cup of tea in hand. “I am. Thanks to you.”

“No, it’s thanks to me that you’re in this situation.”

Qildor’s face fell and his violet eyes darkened. “Don’t say that, Vale. The king made his choice. Not you.”

It was all he dared to say; the closest he came to speaking ill about my father on the matter. A smart faerie.

“How are your wings?” I eyed the bandages.

“Better by the day.” Qildor motioned to one of two empty chairs. “Sit, Vale. We have much to catch up on. I hear that you’re training the new princess?”

“With the help of Sian and Filip.” I nodded to Vidar as I sat next to the heir to House Virtoris. “Sometimes Vidar, Luccan, and Thantrel too.”

“I wish I could come more often,” Vidar admitted. “But Mother is set on me helping her get Sayyida out of her engagement. Each morning I sit in a meeting with yet another house, speaking to another male who wants to wed my sister.”

“And why not Sian?” My eyebrows pulled together. “House Balik should hold more sway than most.”

“Agreed,” Vidar agreed. “Once Sayyida told Mother about wishing to wed Sian, Mother brought the idea to the king. He dismissed it so quickly he might have expected the request.”

Impossible. But I suspected Father had denied their request because he still believed that Lord Balik might have the Ice Scepter. Guilt churned in my stomach.

I hadn’t yet told Sian about the king’s thoughts regarding Lord Balik. Partially because I wanted to find the Ice Scepter, and partially because, in my heart, I didn’t believe Lord Tadgh Balik had the Scepter. He was too noble to keep something that wasn’t his. My father’s suspicions against Lord Roar made far more sense.