Page 50

I scoffed, but my voice was still shaking and fragile as the thinnest glass. “You just said she’s a pain in your ass. Are you lumping me in with her on that particular quality?”

His warm eyes crinkled at the corners. Beolf gave my shoulder a friendly slap before grabbing it again. “Of course you are. But I wouldn’t want either of you any other way. Now,” his tone changed, shifting to a more serious note. His hand slid off my hunched back to slap against his thighs before rising up to full height. “I’ll send the notice out tonight for a squad. We can ride at first light tomorrow and head out toward Covenant Crossing. Whichever way she’s going, we’ll be able to pick up her path unless she decided to travel through Ber’s Forest. If that’s the case, we may have a harder time finding her.”

I braced my right elbow against the armrest to cup my forehead in a palm, suddenly drained of energy after that wild ride of emotion. “She’d likely take the eastern path from Covenant Crossing and go along the God’s Spine up toward Julra. The only thing past those mountains is the Hirania Sea, so unless she plans to take a boat, I doubt she’d try to climb them.”

He nodded. “Agreed. I’ll take at least five of our most experienced trackers. Maybe even a couple practitioners from the Terramancy Guild in case we lose her trail. With your permission, I’ll send a request as soon as I leave here, offering the standard rate to hire them.”

"Request approved. Please send my regards to Guildmaster Woren."

Beolf, ever loyal and resolute, snapped a salute. “Yes, Your Highness. We will find her. Don’t worry.”

"Just… don't hurt her. Bring Haron back in one piece, or as much as she allows."

I cursed my soft heart as soon as the command left my mouth. For all her brashness and rambunctious behavior, there was that fire in her eyes that drew me in like a moth. Every part of me—the king and the man—craved Haron with a passion that bordered on pain. And it sickened me to think she felt betrayed by my careless indecision. I hoped she would let me make it up to her, maybe even for the rest of our lives. But we had to find her first.

Knowing Haron, she wouldn’t make it easy for us.

Respar was a young country, just over a hundred years old since it was recognized as such by the City of Scholar’s census. As such, the Gailish had yet to be dethroned as the ruling family. With that came a very single-minded set of beliefs that aligned with the nomadic tribes the founding members joined with to create Gilamorst. Despite that, it was the Julran refugees that made up half the lineage of Resparian citizens. Very little was preserved of their history or culture beyond that, swallowed up by the tribes they melded with.

“The Tragic History of Julra” by High Scholar Yuret Wend, a well-known and respected researcher, laid open across the center of my desk as I bent over it. Father never approved of my studies regarding Julra or its neighbor Golath, despite the blatant truth that our ancestors were theirs. “Reading the history of failed countries is a waste of time,” he would gripe.

I begged to differ.

Knowing how those strong countries steeped in centuries of knowledge could collapse so entirely was extremely important, in my eyes. Just thinking of how much was lost of both their cultures made my stomach churn in despair. How much more advanced could our own studies in spellcasting be, if we knew what those countries held in their libraries and the heads of their most talented practitioners?

There could have been a solution for the side effects of my own truthsayer power. Beyond the scraps passed by word of mouth from a few displaced refugees from the Frigid War, we had no way of knowing what was lost.

My own mother could trace her family all the way back to minor Julran nobility. That trait alone was what made her desirable to Father as a consort. But my fondest memories—maybe the only ones worth remembering of her acting like a mother—were when she would tell me fantastical tales passed down from her mother and her mother’s mother. Tales ofpractitioners who could create entire structures from the earth or move the rain to fall over a field of crops. Some could even make giants out of ice and bring down massive balls of fire onto a battlefield. Finding accounts in Yuret’s research that validated those stories only made me more ravenous to learn more about Julra. Mother’s family only claimed minor nobility, no direct relation to the Hilj royal family, but I always wondered if my ancestors ever met them. Was Princess Maura as elegant and dainty as the portraits showed her? Was the lesser known Princept Morrette as wild and strong-willed as the refugees told Yuret in their accounts?

A little smile came unbidden to my lips, thinking of someone else who was wild and strong-willed. Haron had fairer skin compared to the more pure-blooded Resparians like Beolf. She could have some traces of Julran heritage in her family like I did. Maybe that was the only connection she needed to reach out to the dead princept. My thoughts turned to our last meeting, and my mood tumbled into a dark depression. It had been two days since we had our falling out and she reportedly left Gilamorst. The only thing holding my sanity together at this point was the frantic effort to research everything I could about the Clifftombs, Morrette Hilj, and Julra, until Beolf could return with news from the scouting party he's taken to look for her.

Engrossed as I was in the text, the heavy knock at the door startled me from my focus. I glanced up at the clock hanging beside the closest bookcase to my left and sighed heavily. It was half past noon, and the council meeting I had already pushed back three times was in fifteen minutes.

“Come in.”

The door opened slowly, just wide enough for a guard to partially step in and bow his head. “Your Highness, Head Councilman Juril has requested your presence in the meeting hall.”

More like, he sent someone to personally escort me so I couldn’t wave them off again. I would not be led like a child, unfortunately for him. I was sure he was looking forward to the power high watching me be led into the hall.

“I am aware. The clock says I have another ten minutes. It’s not like the room is across the palace.”

In fact, it was just at the end of the hall from my study.

“Sire, the butler is quite insistent he wait—”

My patience was already thinning. “Send him in.”

“Sire?”

It was moments like this I missed Beolf’s unwavering loyalty. He would have told the guard and butler to fuck off in no uncertain terms before they even knocked on the door. “I think you heard me. Send in my escort.”

The guard looked nervous but promptly slipped from the door to allow my next victim inside. “G-Good day, Your Highness,” the new man stammered. “I… I was asked t-to fetch you for the council’s meet—”

“Do I look like I cannot read a clock?” It was unfair to chew on the butler, I knew. But if there was one thing I could not stand, it was being interrupted in my reading. And for the likes of Councilman Juril and his lackeys? Even more detestable.

“I.. uh… yes, Sire.” Now the butler was clearly sweating, fidgeting with his hands under my unblinking stare. He was absolutely drenching the white collar of his uniform. “Uh… Councilman Juril was just concerned you would forget about the meeting again and sent me to make sure you attended.”

I spent my entire childhood schooling my face, hiding my thoughts from Father, and the court, and the boring conversations at social events. All that practice was put to good use now. Slowly, I rose from my padded chair and moved around the bulky desk until I stood toe-to-toe with the taller man. Eventhough I had to tilt my head back, there was no question between us who held the upper hand.