Page 7

With his sandy brown hair that curls around the ends, boyish handsomeness, and easy disposition, I wouldn’t peg Blair as a highly skilled soldier if I met him on the street, but he’s every bit the warrior as Agnar and Sterling.

The three men are brothers-in-arms who would walk through fire for each other without hesitation.

“The ones about me.” If anyone knows the best gossip happening in the palace, it will be Blair. It’s pillow talk for a man like him.

“You mean the ones about how the troubles only started after you got here?” Agnar surprises us all by speaking up first. He’s usually too invested in his work and training to bother with listening to rumors. “And how we’d be better off chasing you out of the kingdom?”

“Oh, those are hollow and everyone knows it.” Blair works his hand like a talking mouth and smirks. His soft brown eyes spark with mischief. “I think she’s talking about the ones where Knox left Tirene only to come back with an Aclaris noblewoman that he’s since moved into the king’s wing and what that means for the rest of the court.”

I huff. “Hard to believe that when we first met, you were the quiet one.” I poke him in the ribs. “Why do you think they’re hollow? Aclaris’s raids on our ships were definitely related to me, since King Xenon started them to pressure Tirene to send me back.”

Blair’s playful expression fades. “Because the prophecy is spreading just as fast as that rumor. The one that tells of how you’re the only one who can save the world.”

The prophecy, including the additional secret part King Jasper shared before his death, still lingers in my mind, every word burned into my memory.

Heed the drachen

Creatures of shadows,

Born of darkness

Strengthened of bane,

Enhancement of elements

Death of many.

Childe of dragons, but no one’s childe.

Born in the year of the huntress moon.

Not of Tirene nor Aclaris,

A dragoncaller, the first in generations,

buried alive,

unearthed only to die.

Forged in fire,

Reborn from ash,

Her allegiance the key to king and kingdom.

The lost heir will break the worlds

And save the worlds.

Righteous indignation builds in my chest. “Of course, they’re not rattled by the part where I’m buried alive and then die.”

No, it’s fine, really. No one worry about me. I’ll just keep training so that on some non-specified future date, some asshole can bury me alive, dig me back up, and then kill me again. All after I break the world and then save it. Whatever the hells that even means.

Who wouldn’t sign up for that type of excitement? Sounds like a real good time.

Not.

I prop my hands on my hips and glare at the wall. Why must prophecies be all doom and gloom and riddles?