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“The elf who spoke to me in my dream,” she said. “You heard him when we crossed the Bleak Pass.”

“I heard the voice. I’ve heard others over the years, but never from the Rift. Only when patrolling the edge of the Thicket. The forest is…unsettled. Anyone with our magic in their veins can feel it if they get close enough.”

These were all things I’d said to Laurent. Over and over again, I’d tried to tell him that the shadow of the forest was growing longer. More ominous.

“What do you want me to do, Varick? Send knights into the trees?”

The problem was, he had a point. What good were fighting men when there was no visible enemy to fight? And the threat wasn’t anything I could put my finger on. He’d never said it, but I knew what he thought. It’s all in your head.

Nothing good happened to people who heard voices.

“You don’t want me to wed Laurent,” Given said. “I thought it was because… You and he…” She flushed.

Despite the weightiness of our conversation, my groin tightened. Images from dinner paraded through my head, offering a glimpse of what it might be like…the three of us together.

“I think it’s a mistake to blend your bloodlines,” I said. “We know Laurent is powerful. We don’t know what you’re capable of, or how your power will react with his.”

Her flush deepened. “You’re speaking of a child.”

My mind went to Laurent’s confession about the Deepnight—about his plan to promise the Sithistrans an heir with Baylen’s blood. Of course he hadn’t told her about it. He’d have to confess he intended to invade her country. Depose and quite likely kill her brother.

“I speak of the future,” I said.

She rubbed her lips together. “I don’t feel powerful.” Her gaze darted to the balcony over my shoulder. She tightened her arms around her stomach as she shivered.

“Where did you go?” I asked. “When you left yourself.”

Her blue eyes jerked to mine. For a moment, fear reigned there. Then she ducked her head. “Darkness. Like a void. I thought I might get lost in it.”

Hints of deception hit my lungs, the scent akin to old smoke. But there was truth in there, too. It was impossible to separate the two. They swirled around each other like flotsam in a stream. This happened sometimes when someone was frightened or confused. Or they tried to recall a dream.

I tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at me again. “You saw a void?”

“Yes.”

Truth.

There was a tub in the corner, the surface of the water just visible behind a privacy screen.

“You should soak in a warm bath,” I said. “Warm, not hot. It’ll help with any lingering pain from the frost. I’ll have servants bring up fresh water.”

Her gaze darted to the tub. Color burned in her cheeks. “Thank you…General.”

The memories of dinner changed, twisting into images of her soaking in the tub, her pale hair piled atop her head, firm breasts breaking the surface of the water. Damp, pink nipples and long, smooth legs. “We’ll share a wife,” Laurent had said. “You’re not indifferent to her.”

I turned and went to the door.

“Lord Varick.”

I waited, my jaw clenched against the draw of her magic. The sultry whisper of power and potential destruction.

“You said you knew one other with my gift.”

The door was a solid presence in front of me. Other memories—far different ones—threatened to rise. I shoved them away. I left the room, and only when I was well down the hall did I give her an answer. “Yes, Princess. My father was a farseer.”

And he’d been a liar, too.

Chapter Twenty-Two