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Chapter 23

IRIS

It was infinitely harder to hold your tongue when a foolish man was involved.

“Kacidon has no business making requests here.”

The grey-haired man across from Theon, Aspen, and me remained unmoved, no matter how many times we rephrased our offer.

He had to be nearing half-life, judging by his appearance. Very little of his original hair color remained, streaked with silver. The aging process for Ethera was slow, our lifespans ranging anywhere from five hundred to two thousand years—barring untimely circumstances. Aging began to decelerate after reaching maturity at twenty, slowing to a crawl upon our ascent to full power at twenty-five. Before that, we lacked access to our entire magical essence. Our powers and healing remained volatile, increasing the risk of perishing in battle or by other unfortunate means. Typically, Ethera who overextended their essence reserves—especially before ascending—exhibited premature signs of aging. But such effects varied greatly between individuals. Regardless of magic use, one could expect to see a shift in physical appearance every century or so. Which meant this man was either much older than any of us or made questionable decisions regarding his magic at some point.

“Will the queen be arriving soon?” Aspen's tone bordered on discourteous. “Our audience is with her, not her advisor.”

I nudged him with an elbow.

We’d yet to see anyone but the queen’s advisor, despite being herded aimlessly through a maze of rooms. Theon had taken the role of emissary with ease, his tone measured and diplomatic. Yet the advisor's animosity was evident. The resentment he harbored for Kacidon’s refusal to aid during the Tenebris War—and in the events that followed—was as palpable as the tension in the air.

“What the prince means to say,” I interjected, “is that we wish to personally inform Her Majesty of our reasons for this journey. I apologize—I’m having trouble containing my excitement.”

There was a look you could always catch, a distaste in the poorly restrained curl of a lip from a man who thought you nothing more than a pretty face. “The queen does not accommodate demands for her time. Your title holds no worth here. Kacidonians hold no worth here.” He regarded Aspen with disdain, dismissing me entirely. “Your consort ,” he spat, “even less so. She should never have come to Marikaim.”

To him, I was a lovesick fool desperate to fawn over a prince. And I would give him quite the performance. There was no point trying to prove anything to men like that, but they made it so damn easy to use it to your advantage. He was the fool, underestimating the cataclysmic force that was a woman in love.

Which , I wasn’t. But he didn’t know that.

“I would watch your tongue where it concerns my future Queen.”

I stilled.

Aspen’s words washed over me, the sensation something akin to ages of rust breaking off my bones, something new and powerful in its wake.

No pounding heart. No racing thoughts. No shaking hands.

Just calm.

“I would second that statement, Prince Aspen.”

A soothing yet assertive voice carried into the room.

And I was practically giddy.

The Queen of Marikaim descended a staircase to our left, her structured garnet gown sweeping over each step. A bronze crown lay atop her black braids, inlaid with rubies and amethysts. We each dipped into a bow, showing our respect. When I straightened, I found myself face to face with the woman I had read across from only hours earlier.

“I should not have to remind you of your manners when addressing guests in our realm, Jareth.” She tilted her head, one eyebrow raised. “Especially if I am to hear that these visitors may, indeed, be the future King and Queen of Kacidon.”

A confusing wave of emotions swept through me. Conflicting and... curious. I knew the roles we were to play, but I hadn’t been at all prepared to be addressed as the future queen. Much less twice in the span of a few moments. I couldn’t make sense of how the words spread beneath my skin. Wasn’t sure I was allowed to feel them at all.

Play the part.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Jareth ground out, his teeth clenched.

“Not to mention my new friend.” Mischief glinted in her warm mahogany eyes as she met my gaze.

“I am Queen Kelledryn Saelmere of Marikaim, but you may call me Kel.” She addressed the three of us now, her attention shifting away from her advisor. “You are excused, Jareth. And I expect to hear no further reports of our guests being treated with anything less than respect. Do I make myself clear?”

Jareth fumed as he departed, but she paid him no mind.

“Now,” she said, her expression softening, “shall we take a stroll as we speak? I am quite tired of being indoors.”

We moved through long hallways lined with a museum’s worth of fine art, and it grew difficult to keep from studying every piece. Sweeping lines of color and ancient scenes of battle filled the frames, each one starkly different from the last, but no less evoking. The last walkways curved before emerging outdoors, circling around the back of the castle.

I could’ve spent a lifetime right there, staring.

To our right, the city of Cionaxus climbed the mountainside, its array of colors reflecting in the daylight like scattered gemstones amidst the sand. To our left, the higher peak of the waterfall cascaded down to meet the one the Keep sat atop.

And ahead… ahead lay the Cerulean Sea.

Vast turquoise waves stretched as far as the eye could see, vessels and ships dotting the horizon.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen the sea.

“The water aids our privacy,” Kel remarked as we moved along the covered path.

Sweet smoke swirled around the mist tickling our faces, the two elements in a constant dance on the wind. A railing to our right separated the walkway from the steep drop of the waterfall. Every several paces, towering pillars met arches above our heads. Enchanted sconces flickered along the stone, their flames untouched by the wind.

I slid my hand into the crook of Aspen’s elbow, and to his credit, he showed no outward discomfort.

Time for a show.

“Your mother wrote of the arrangement, Prince Aspen.” Kel’s gaze flicked to where my fingers rested against his arm. “I must admit, I was surprised to hear the news. It’s rather uncommon nowadays. Is there reason to believe you must be prepared to claim the throne soon?”

“It’s what is best for our people,” Aspen shrugged.

“Yes.” She turned a corner, leading us into an outdoor garden. A pond sat in the center, water lilies floating atop its surface. “It seems it would be beneficial to repair Kacidon’s inter-realm relationships as well.”

“If I may, Your Majesty?—”

“Are we not friends, Iris?” she interrupted, wiggling her fingers slightly.

“Yes, Kel, I would say so.” A genuine smile came easily. “However, it seems my future mother-in-law has downplayed our affections for each other.”

A gust of air brushed my collarbone. I might have thought it was the breeze had it not carried the faint scent of eucalyptus. It wasn’t harsh, but it was a clear inquiry as to why I’d deviated from our script. I tightened my grip, silently begging him to play along.

“The arrangement was a surprise, surely, but not one either of us was unhappy with.” I let excitement slip into my voice. “We wish to share the joy of our news with you and extend a hand to Marikaim as well. This situation has opened our eyes to the importance of cooperation—of friendship —between the realms.”

“And what is it you would like to offer?”

“One of Kacidon’s top naval vessels,” Aspen chimed in, his fingers flexing where they were tucked against his chest. “Something that should have been done long ago.”

“I see.” She reached out, plucking a flower from a nearby vine. “That is quite an offer—something that would have aided Marikaim when our shores were being ravaged. Kacidon’s actions lost us many good Ethera. Actions that, if I’m frank, eradicated any lingering goodwill my predecessors had towards your family.”

“For good reason,” Aspen admitted.

“You agree?”

“It was an injustice.” He shifted. “Your people deserved more.”

She contemplated for a moment. “I agree. Though, perhaps Kacidon is in better hands than I thought. Less covered in blood. If for the future, at least. I think it is high time we begin moving forward, don’t you?”

“I think that is best for all,” he agreed.

I glanced up at him. His white hair flowed lazily in the wind, the moisture in the air causing it to curl. I wasn’t sure if it was the reflection of the water or the nearby flames, but I could’ve sworn his eyes were bluer. Softer too. He looked more relaxed here—similar to how he had last night on the balcony.

Why did he seem more comfortable anywhere but his own castle?

“And well, the prince here,” I widened my eyes, plastering on a look of admiration, “may not seem it on the outside, but he is a romantic.” I rested my head on his shoulder before continuing. “His betrothal gift was quite fitting. A rare novel I haven’t read. Unfortunately, it was in a language no one in Kacidon could translate. He was hoping your Linguistic might be able to assist.”

“Him or you?” she asked wryly, one dark brow raised.

“I can’t pretend I’m not aching for the opportunity to read it,” I laughed, throwing my head back. “I think it would be most accurate to say we’re both hoping for assistance. Not without offering something in return, of course. Darling?” I paused, waiting for Aspen to fill the space.

“Yes,” he began. “Kacidon is willing to trade the Grimoire of Aowyn in return.”

“We have asked Genevieve for that text for years.” Warranted suspicion laced Kel’s tone, and we hadn’t yet voiced the most extensive request. “It is one of the handful of sacred grimoires that survived The Passage. I sense there is something you are not divulging, if you are offering up such a prize.”

“Romanticism runs in the family,” I chuckled, patting Aspen’s arm.

The queen did not drop her questioning look.

“But yes, it is rather complicated,” I admitted. “The book is in such fragile condition, it couldn’t survive the journey here.”

“You would like to use our decoder.”

“No, we would never displace such an artifact,” I amended quickly, hoping to ease the tension that had formed. “Our request is that one be made for Kacidon.”

Her brows shot up, eyes wide. “That is quite a solicitation—one that will need more than my approval.”

“We can offer another ship,” Aspen interjected. “And a chest from the royal vault to be delivered here.”

Way to really hold out.

“We don’t need Kacidon’s coin, Prince. Not anymore.” Kel turned her attention to me. “However, our fleet could use two ships, and the Grimoire is a treasure that belongs in the Etheran Archives.”

She pondered, dark brown eyes flitting between us for several moments. Theon remained silent behind us, but I felt his presence—ready to intervene with more negotiation if needed.

“We will have a celebration,” she said at last, her smile conspiratorial—not unlike the one I already wore. “To new beginnings between our realms. If you can convince the Archival Order of your venture, I will arrange a meeting with our Linguistic, Lenys. If you can then convince Lenys to assist you, the decoder will be yours.”

“I apologize—the Archival Order?” I asked, seeking any information that might help us persuade this entirely new group. “Not your own personal court?”

“While the Etheran Archives reside in Marikaim territory, they belong to the whole of Altaerra. As such, the Archival Order reports solely to the Altaerran Council.”

The Sunchosen.

The very Order we needed to persuade to grant us a magical object only they possessed reported directly to the Sunchosen of the generation before me.

My neck tingled, the brand heating beneath my bodice. I rolled my shoulders back, closing my eyes briefly to steady myself.

Control, Iris.

I despised how my body seemed fueled by fear. It was a constant second pulse, spurring me into action without any sense of control. The panic so deeply embedded in my very being, I wasn’t sure where it ended, and I began. As if I was no more than a bag of bones with a frantic heartbeat.

“You need only convince them that Kacidon has no ulterior motives for this device—that it will be in safe hands.”

I couldn’t be around them.

I was nearly frantic at the mention of the order and who they served. My control slipping rapidly, dragging away with each pull of the tide. The feel of Aspen’s jacket beneath my fingers was the only thing I could pay attention to. I realized too late that I clutched it so hard the seam started pulling apart.

I relaxed my fingers, taking several measured breaths.

I had been nine years old the last time I was seen by the council. A lonely, frightened girl. And their desire for secrecy had kept us out of the public eye. This Archival Order likely had no idea what I looked like then, much less now.

Still, the need to flee pounded against the confines of my mind. It screamed— You can’t be around them.

But I had to be.

“It sounds like a grand time,” I nodded emphatically.

“Wonderful.” Kel clapped her hands together before gathering her skirts. “I will see you all tonight for the festivities. I do love a party.” She let out a wistful sigh before turning to walk back into the castle.

“Oh,” she called over her shoulder, now at the gilded threshold of the keep. “The members of the Order are anonymous. You will not know which guests they are.”

She winked before disappearing.