Page 22

TYCHO

In the early hours before dawn, the palace is always quiet. I expect to be brought to the royal suites, or maybe to one of the strategy rooms where the king and queen meet with advisers, but Grey leads me and Malin to the east side of the palace. This is generally where high-ranking guests reside, and nowhere near his quarters—or mine either. When we enter a set of rooms, they’re vaguely familiar. It takes me a moment to remember why.

These are the rooms where we stayed when we first came to Syhl Shallow, when Grey had not yet claimed his birthright. I remember the tapestries, most of which are the same, the velvet floor coverings, the heavy wooden furniture, the stone walls. I knelt on the floor just there and swore fealty to him, the first person to ever do so.

I cast another glance around. The rooms look used , like someone has been staying here, but I don’t get the sense that anyone else is present.

I don’t know why Grey would bring us here.

After the way the guards flanked the king on the fields, I’m ready for them to file into the room, too, but Grey orders them into the hallway. The door swings closed behind them, leaving us alone with the king.

At my side, Malin has been silent and stoic, the perfect soldier in the king’s presence. But I can feel his apprehension now—as clearly as I could feel it when Grey rode across that field. He might not know the stakes, but the tension between me and the king isn’t invisible. It radiates.

Grey gives me a sidelong glance. “You’re beginning to make a habit of riding up to the gates in the middle of the night and causing a panic.”

He’s referring to the time Lord Alek stabbed me, after I defended myself with magic. Mercy brought me back to the palace gates unconscious. A month ago, he would be teasing me with that kind of comment.

Just now, it feels like a rebuke.

“In my defense,” I say, “I did tell the guard captain who I was.”

“She said you threatened to fight your way through the gate.”

“I was running out of options.”

“You’re supposed to be in Emberfall. Until I laid eyes on you, I didn’t believe it myself.” Grey’s eyes skip down my form, taking in the uniform, the signs of battle on my armor. He wants to grill me about all of it, I can tell, and I brace myself.

But his eyes stop on Malin. The king’s expression changes, turning thoughtful. Some of the aggravation slips away. I know what he’s seeing: a young man who’s nearing his limits.

“At ease, Lieutenant.” Grey draws back one of the chairs at the table near the center of the room and drops into it, then gestures to the others. “Sit,” he says to us both.

Malin glances at me, and I think he might not dare to sit if I don’t do it first. If he weren’t here I might have collapsed into a chair before Grey did, so I have no hesitation.

A pitcher of water sits on the table, and the king pours a glass for us both. Malin looks stunned, but I’m not. Despite any friction between us, Grey has always been a good leader . He’s very aware of the people under his command.

It’s part of the reason our conflict stings so much. Either he doesn’t see me clearly at all anymore—or he does, and he doesn’t like what he sees.

I can’t decide which is worse.

“Drink,” he says to Malin. “It looks like you’ve had a hard ride.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Malin obeys like it’s an order, but he must have been thirsty, because after the first sip, he drains the whole glass. “Thank you.”

Grey refills it, then looks between the two of us. “Tycho never rides with a companion,” he says. “Why are you with him?”

I inhale to answer, but the king says, “I was asking the lieutenant.”

“Prince Rhen ordered it,” Malin says. “After the first scraver attack.”

Grey goes still. “After the first . That implies there have been more.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The king looks at me.

I look right back at him. “I told you—and your guard captain—it was urgent.”

His eyes narrow a bit at my tone, but he just says, “Tell me what happened.”

I do, beginning with the first attack on the ride to Ironrose and what we heard about Xovaar, and ending with us taking shelter in Briarlock, and what we learned about the other scravers from Nakiis.

“There have been rumors of attacks here, too,” Grey says. “No one has mentioned scravers specifically, just monstrous creatures. Many thought they seemed too far-fetched to be believed—and I thought perhaps it was the Truthbringers stoking discord after what happened in Briarlock.” He looks between the two of us. “But you are telling me that we don’t simply have to worry about the Truthbringers plotting against the throne, but scravers as well?”

“Scravers aren’t plotting against the throne,” I say. “They’re plotting against magesmiths.”

Grey’s eyes are full of storm clouds. “Against me .”

Against us , I think, but I don’t say it.

Malin’s eyes flick in my direction anyway.

The king sees it immediately. “There’s more you aren’t telling me.”

I brace myself. “When Nakiis arrived in Briarlock, Malin was badly wounded. I used magic to heal him.”

He thinks about this for a moment. “Was this the only time you’ve used magic since the battle in Briarlock?”

I hesitate, then shake my head. “When the first scraver attacked, it nearly killed me. It tore into Jax, too. I used magic then, too.”

“So it’s possible the scravers may see you as a target as well.” His expression has gone cold, unreadable again, but I sense that he’s angry.

I should keep my mouth shut, but I’m too tired, and the night has been too charged with emotion. “Should I have let them die instead?” I snap. “You would have done the same.”

“ I wouldn’t have let Nakiis out of the cage in the first place,” he says. “ I would have followed orders.”

I inhale a breath that burns like fire, and I’m not sure what I’m going to say or do, but Malin grabs hold of my forearm, his fingers pressing tight.

Fine .

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I grind out.

“You’re dismissed to your quarters,” Grey says. “Leave me Rhen’s letters. We’ll discuss this further once I’ve had a chance to review them.”

“As you say.” I stand and unbuckle enough of my breastplate to pull the sleeve of letters free, and I almost fling it at him, but I have more self-control than that. I set the leather binding on the table and look at Malin. “I’ll show you to the barracks and find you space. There’s a regiment from Emberfall here—”

“No,” says Grey. “Find him quarters near yours. You’re both to keep this to yourselves until I determine a path forward.”

I stare at him, but before I can say anything, Malin grabs my forearm again.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he says.

The king is glaring at me. I’m glaring right back.

I don’t know how we’ve gotten right back to this point.

Malin’s fingers dig into my wrist, and he all but drags me through the door, passing the royal guards stationed there.

Once we’re in the hallway, some of my tension dissipates. Not all of it, though. Malin strides along beside me, but he waits until we’ve turned a corner before he glances back over his shoulder, and then he seems to relax.

He whistles softly through his teeth. “So . . . ?I should make that two drinks?”

“At this point, I don’t think a tavern would stock enough.” I glance over, then lift my arm, the one he grabbed. I have no doubt the king saw the motion, and I hope Grey doesn’t hold it against him. “Thank you for the warning. I know this assignment was important to you. You didn’t have to risk yourself for me.”

“I wasn’t going to watch you hang yourself.”

I give a humorless laugh. “Anyone else would have.”

He hits me in the shoulder. “No. They wouldn’t.” We walk through a doorway flanked by Syhl Shallow guards in green and black, and Malin’s eyes narrow. “Or they shouldn’t .”

I think about this as we climb stairs and head for the opposite side of the palace. My quarters are close to the royal suites, nowhere near where we met with the king. I still can’t figure out why Grey took us down to the east wing. It’s not even a commonly used area of the palace.

But there were a lot of guards stationed in the hallway, which seems to indicate he’s there a lot.

You’re both to keep this to yourselves until I determine a path forward .

I.

Not we .

I’ve been so focused on the conflict between me and the king that I haven’t considered that he might have conflict with anyone else—especially not Lia Mara.

If anything could keep me from collapsing into my bed, it’s this. But it’s too early to go find answers. Even Noah won’t be awake yet.

We finally reach my floor, and I ask servants to ready an unused room for Malin. I show him where I’m quartered, then lead him to his own.

“You can ask the guards to call for food whenever you wake,” I tell him. “I’ll come find you later when I have a sense of what our orders are.” I hesitate. “I’m sorry you have to be sequestered from the army for now.”

He’s looking around his room, which isn’t very large for the palace, but it boasts a massive bed piled with blankets, a small sitting area, and a private washroom. A servant is just stoking the fire in the hearth.

Malin turns to me and says, “I really don’t feel that I’m due an apology for getting a room like this instead of having a cot in the barracks.”

I give him a tired smile and turn for the door. “Get some sleep. You know where to find me.”

His voice calls me back. “Tycho.” Then he winces and glances at the departing servant, as if remembering we’re in the palace, and we’re not two simple soldiers on the road anymore. “ My lord. ”

My smile widens, and I shake my head. “ Tycho. ”

He doesn’t smile back. “You saved my life,” he says. There’s no teasing in his voice now. “That cost you something.” He hesitates. “I won’t forget it.”

He’s right, it did cost me something. But I don’t care what Grey said. Faced with a dying soldier, the king would have done the same, as readily as he poured that glass of water. I’ve watched him and idolized him and trained alongside him for years. Grey shouldn’t be surprised that every action I take would be a shadow of his own.

The instant I have the thought, it strikes me that maybe this is part of our conflict: maybe he sees failings in me that he truly sees as failings in himself .

I think of the way Malin stopped me from losing my temper. No one in the Syhl Shallow army would have done that for me.

For the first time, the gold-and-red livery doesn’t bother me quite so much. “You’re welcome, Malin.” I put out a hand. “For the good of Emberfall.”

Malin clasps it without hesitation. His brown eyes meet mine, and he gives me a nod. “For the good of all.”