Page 58 of A Storm in Every Heart (Enchanted Legacies #2)

I run blindly toward the castle, head down, not caring who sees me in my nightgown. My only thought is to get as far away from the garden as possible before the burning at the backs of my eyes spills over.

I clench my hands into fists, willing myself not to cry.

I’ve always been good at hiding my tears in public, but this time I can’t. Despite my best effort, the tears come. My vision blurs and by the time I reach the castle corridor I’m snuffling audibly, so lost that I nearly plow over a servant carrying a stack of linens.

“Sorry—” I gasp, but the girl’s already scuttling away, her face carefully blank.

A fresh wave of embarrassment crashes over me. I know I need to pull myself together before I’m spotted by someone who knows me, but the palace is a maze and I’m suddenly, desperately lost. On a whim, I yank open the first door I see and slip inside, letting it thump shut behind me.

The hush is immediate and heavy. I press my back to the door and slide down, the coat and blanket pooling in a heap around me.

My brain replays Kastian’s face over and over: the confusion in his eyes, the way his smile collapsed inward, as if I’d punched him in the gut.

I can’t hold it in any longer, and the tears spill over. I sob uncontrollably. Each sob racks my body, making my shoulders quiver with the intensity of it all.

I let the emotions flood out, feeling the hot trails of tears mingle with the snot trickling down my face. My chest heaves with each ragged breath, and I cry until there's nothing left but the sound of my uneven breathing echoing in the quiet room.

When my tears dry up and I can’t cry anymore, I slowly raise my head.

I’ve stumbled into someone’s office. At least, that’s what I think it is.

The room is oval-shaped with tall bookshelves and flickering sconces lining the walls. In the center of the room is a heavy oak desk with a large armchair behind it and several books and papers scattered across the surface.

I push to my feet and cross to the large arched window. Outside, I can see the edge of the lake behind the castle, where Kastian stole my boat.

I frown deeply and tear my eyes from the water.

Instead, my gaze lands on the large desk.

Curious, I cross the room and pick up the nearest book from the desk.

The title, “Beasts of Southern Ellender” jumps out at me and my brow furrows.

Sticking out of the top of the book is a torn bit of parchment, obviously being used as a bookmark.

I let the book fall open in my hand to the place the owner of this office must have marked.

For some reason—perhaps because it’s the only thing on my mind at the moment—I expected the book to be marked at a chapter about sirens. I’m wrong. The title of the chapter, written in large curling letters, is: “Dopplers, tricksters and shapeshifters.”

I’m about to start reading when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I freeze, listening hard. It’s probably just one of the servants and?—

The doorknob rattles.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I drop the book and dive beneath the desk just as the door swings open.

“—I don’t really care. If your betrothal falls through now, then all the work I’ve done has been for nothing,” a male voice says, shutting the door behind him.

“I tried,” a girl whines back. “But I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”

I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. I know that voice—it’s Lyra Von Bargen. But who’s the man? And worse, what will happen if they see me under here, hiding in an office barefoot, tear-streaked, and wearing a nightgown?

I can’t even imagine the humiliation—and that’s assuming I’m not in trouble for snooping.

I pull my legs in tighter and hold my breath as a pair of feet walk across the room and stop at the window just out of my line of sight

“For one thing, you could put an ounce of effort into making him like you,” the male voice says, sounding weary.

Lyra’s feet follow the man, and she stops directly in front of the desk. If I wanted I could reach out and grab her ankle.

She pops a hip out and sighs loudly. “You’ve been telling me for years that royal marriages have nothing to do with affection. What happened to your orders to be as bland as possible so the king and queen would think I was a safe, unthreatening choice of bride?”

“Evidently I’ve misjudged things,” the man says bitterly. “The king wasn’t nearly as concerned as I thought he’d be about his son spending time with a siren.”

My eyes widen, and I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.

“You talked to King Sebastian about it?” Lyra asks.

“I did…and he didn’t seem to mind. Fucking idiot, this is why he has no right to sit on that throne. He’s completely blind to every possible threat.”

“Obviously,” Lyra says pointedly.

There’s a long pause, the scrape of a chair across the floor, and shuffling out of sight. “What did the siren say?” the man asks.

Lyra sighs again, more frustrated this time. “Nothing of substance. She doesn’t seem very bright to me.”

My eyes bug out of my head. Are they talking about me?

What am I thinking? Of course they are. There aren’t any other sirens at court.

But why?

“She could still be dangerous,” the man says.

“I doubt it,” Lyra scoffs.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that she’s a self-absorbed child too wrapped up in melodramatic fantasies to be either dangerous or useful.

I thought for sure she’d gone out of her way to bewitch the prince, but when I brought it up to her, she just stared at me with those big glassy eyes, almost like a fish.

I’m almost certain she had no idea what I was talking about. ”

A pang of discomfort hits my chest. I don’t care what Lyra thinks about me, but it’s still not pleasant to realize you’re being insulted behind your back.

I need to know who that man is, and why Lyra is talking to him about me.

My heart is pounding so hard against my ribs I’m terrified they’ll hear it as I lean forward slightly, the top of my head skimming the underside of the desk.

I peer past Lyra’s legs and finally spot the man now sitting in an armchair by the bookshelves.

My eyes narrow in confusion. I’m not positive, but I think it’s her father—the man I saw on the balcony with the royal family the day we arrived. He’s tall and blonde and dressed in expensive, fashionable clothing.

He’s an advisor to the king, I think. I’m sure I heard someone mention his name since we’ve been here. Marcus…no, Magnus .

Magnus happens to glance in my direction, and I lean back quickly before he can see me, my pulse thundering out of control.

“Hmm,” Magnus mumbles. “Interesting. I suppose the siren is quite young. It’s possible she doesn’t know what she’s capable of.”

“I truly don’t believe she does,” Lyra says flippantly. “I almost felt sorry for her.”

Magnus snorts. “Don’t. She may not be much now, but given some time she could be quite dangerous. For now, though, I think you may be right, but in many ways that’s worse.”

“Why?” Lyra asks.

“If the siren isn’t intentionally meddling, then perhaps Prince Kastian is genuinely infatuated with her. If that’s the case, then the compulsion won’t wear off if we dispose of the siren. It won’t matter what we do to her. He still won’t want to marry you, which derails the entire plan.”

Sweat begins to bead on the back of my neck and my hairline as I bite the inside of my cheek hard to keep myself from making a sound.

“I don’t want to marry him either,” Lyra says flatly.

“That’s irrelevant,” Magnus snaps. “You’ll marry whomever I tell you to, especially if it means elevating this family. Your job was to secure our position in the royal family, but obviously you’ve failed.”

“I told you, I?—”

Magnus cuts her off, standing from his chair and pacing across the room. “If Kastian won’t see reason, perhaps he can be useful in another way.”

“What do you mean?”

Magnus reaches the window and stares out at the grounds, his back to Lyra. “We kill Kastian and blame it on the girl. Or her family, perhaps. Either would work as I have it on good authority that her cousin is the bastard son of King Florian.”

“What?” Lyra asks, incredulous.

Her shocked tone echoes the wave of horror washing over me. Kill Kastian. Blame my family…

Magnus carries on as if Lyra didn’t speak.

“Yes…this could work. With the right evidence, we can have Vernallis declared an enemy of the state. The people will demand retribution and it will push Hydratta into an expensive and unwinnable war—King Sebastian will be destabilized by the war and the loss of his heir, and eventually it will create enough unrest that we’ll be able to stage a coup. ”

Lyra’s breath hitches. “You’d start a war over this? You never said?—”

“I’d do whatever is necessary to secure the line of succession. Our line,” Magnus says, and there’s something almost tender in that last word.

“Wait!” Lyra snaps, sounding afraid now. “I didn’t agree to this. Marriage is one thing, but I never wanted to kill anyone. A war is going too far.”

Magnus turns to her, and it’s only luck—and his focus on Lyra—that keeps him from seeing me under the desk. My skin has gone clammy and cold. If they see me now it’s not going to be merely a humiliation. They’ll kill me.

“I’m doing this for you,” Magnus says almost kindly. “Don’t you understand? This is the only way to get what we’re owed.”

Lyra makes a noise of derision in the back of her throat. “You don’t care about me. You never have. You only want the throne.”

“Of course I care about you, who else could I trust to help me with this?”

“No,” she says. “I’m not doing it.”

Magnus’s face twists with anger. “You are. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what will happen if you disobey me.”

There’s a long silence where I desperately wish I could see Lyra’s face because after a moment, Magnus smiles. “Good. We’ll have to move quickly to make the plan work. It will have to happen tonight.”

“Tonight?” Lyra asks, her voice trembling slightly.

“Yes, we’ll kill Kastian tonight at the ball, and by tomorrow the plan will be set in motion. Mark my words, a century from now our family will sit on the throne and no one will even remember King Sebastian or Prince Kastian.”