Page 55

Morgana

I wake starving. I had little appetite yesterday after the confrontation in Gullert, the discovery about my brother, the injured rebels…

But then Leon fucked every single thought right out of my head, and I proceeded to sleep like a baby, awaking to feel reborn. I snuggle closer to him now, soaking in the warmth of his large, toned body. When I gently kiss his chest, he wakes with a rumble of pleasure.

“I’m hungry,” I murmur.

He grabs me, pulling me against him, and kisses me so thoroughly I forget for a moment what I was saying.

“I mean hungry hungry,” I clarify, when the dizziness ebbs. “Like for food.”

He growls in an exaggerated show of disappointment but releases me so we can get dressed.

Breakfast at the Crossed Keys is a busy affair.

The inn is much bigger than any others I’ve seen before, with long corridors and multiple levels.

When we get downstairs, Heda shows Leon and me into one of a trio of dining rooms. There’s a long table running down the middle, busy with people loading up their plates from trays of toasted bread, eggs, and bacon.

Periodically, a serving boy or girl hurries inside to replenish the supply with a fresh, steaming platter straight from the kitchen.

I scan the chairs and spot Eryx, Hyllus, and Stratton sitting toward one end, beside a welcome face.

“Alastor!” I grin, rushing up to the table and grabbing a seat beside the blond fae. He still looks fragile, with dark circles under his eyes, but I’m encouraged by the groaning plate of food in front of him.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” he says weakly.

“He woke up this morning and climbed straight out of bed,” Stratton says cheerfully. “He said the bacon was calling him.”

Leon settles down beside me as I glance down the table at our fellow diners.

To my surprise, they’re not all strangers.

Mal is chatting to a young man and woman, and the rebel from yesterday—the one with the head injury—is eating porridge a few seats away.

There’s only a faint mark on her forehead now, so I guess the dryad healer they found in Ferrous was a good one.

That leads me to wonder how many of the injured rebels survived.

Vivid memories of their wounds swim up in my mind, draining away my appetite.

“What are the Hand doing here?” I ask the fae under my breath.

“Haven’t you noticed?” Eryx murmurs. “This whole inn is basically a safehouse for them. They must pay that woman handsomely to host them.”

From Heda’s perspective, I’d imagine it’s smart business. She never has to worry about her rooms being empty even in slow seasons for travelers, and Tread is far enough away from any Temple strongholds that it seems unlikely they get many clerics round here, so the risk is low.

“Why does that greenish fellow keep looking at me?” Alastor asks, taking a bite of his toast.

We all stare at him.

“You don’t remember?” Stratton asks.

Alastor shrugs.

“He’s the rebel who attacked you while your back was turned in Gullert,” Leon says darkly.

“Although he did apologize yesterday,” Stratton says.

“Oh, well, as long as he’s sorry,” Alastor says, turning back to his food.

“That’s it?” I ask, surprised. “He made you really sick.”

“Yes, but he was suffocating us with a sandstorm at the time,” Esther points out, sitting down on the other side of me and promptly beginning to inhale her toast like a woman with somewhere to be.

Alastor nods, appreciative of her direct approach. “This is true.”

“You could at least find out if he actually means it,” I suggest under my breath. “Now that you’re feeling better.”

Alastor shakes his head, eyeing Esther and whispering to me. “I can’t. I tried on one of the members of staff this morning. I might be better , but I’m not yet well . Especially when it comes to my magic. I’ll need a few more days yet before we discover everyone’s secrets.”

“What are you whispering about?” We look up at the harsh voice, finding the source—a sandy-haired man with thick brows standing by the table behind Leon. His face is twisted in suspicion.

“I don’t see why that’s any concern of yours,” Alastor says, looking the man up and down.

“It is if you’re plotting something,” the man snaps.

Leon stands abruptly from his chair, squaring up to the man. “I suggest you make the choice to walk away, or I’ll do it for you,” he says.

The man only looks angrier. “You think you can?—”

“That’s enough, Cettar,” Esther says. Her weary-but-resigned tone suggests she’s had to deal with confrontations like this before. Little wonder. This attack dog of a man seems to be the type to snarl at everyone. “These people are our guests,” she reminds him.

“Guests,” the man scoffs. “I see we’re just letting anyone in on our secrets now. What does Harman think he’s doing?”

Esther rises now, resignation giving way to actual anger. “His job,” she snaps out. “And I won’t have you questioning it. Now if you can’t settle down, do as our guest says and leave .”

Cettar scowls but slouches out of the dining room.

“Apologies about that,” Esther says, sitting down and resuming her breakfast. “Not everyone here is as trusting of outsiders as Harman.”

“He seems like a liability,” Eryx grunts. “Why keep him around?”

Esther gives him a long look. “Because in a cause like ours, we don’t get to pick and choose who our comrades are. We don’t need to like each other to believe in the same cause. There are all sorts who’ve been burned by the Temple, and we fight for them all.”

She takes the last bite of her toast, swallows, then stands.

“Harman says he’s ready to speak with you when you are, Your Highness.”

“How does it work with places like the Crossed Keys?” I ask Harman once I’m in his cellar office alone. “How do you know it’s safe? The Hand members seem pretty relaxed there.”

“Most of the people in Tread are no friends of the Temple,” Harman says.

“Many of them were business owners on the fringes of Godom once. But when the Temple expanded its territory, they did their best to drive out anyone not aligned with them. They kept demanding more and more money—for tithes, rent, and taxes—until all these people had no choice but to move north or go bankrupt. They see the Temple for what it is: greedy and cruel.”

“And that’s why they protect and help the Hand,” I say.

“That and we pay them well with the money we make stealing Temple property.” He grins, and I see the family resemblance in him again, stirring up more questions.

“I was hoping you might tell me more about my— our —father,” I say.

Harman nods, sitting back in his chair. “When he had time to spend with me, he was warm and friendly. But he wasn’t just a simple, sunny person.

Like I said last night, he and my mother bonded over a shared passion for a liberated Trova.

But it seems to me he hid that passion most of the time.

Maybe he felt like he had to, but I think it put a strain on him. ”

I think back to what Will said, about Alaric becoming more willing to give in to my mother’s decisions later in their marriage.

Less willing to put up a fight , he’d said.

Was that because she found out about the affair?

Was it then he decided to give up on his passion?

I guess we’ll never know, but it forms a picture for me of a man who once wanted more—for his country, his family, and his marriage.

From the snippets I’ve gleaned elsewhere—including from Oclanna, of all people—my mother’s focus was always on trying to hold that country together. Maintaining the legacy of her father and grandfather took up too much of her attention for her to notice much else.

Oclanna. Harman said he had things he wanted to discuss with me, but she’s why I’m here.

“I came back to Trova for a specific purpose, Harman,” I say. “Prince Leonidas has already pledged his support. But I think we could do with more help.”

“Help that you think the Hand could offer?” he guesses.

“Yes. I’m here to kill my aunt, Lady Oclanna.” If I’d hoped to shock him, I’ve failed. He just nods, absorbing this information.

“I imagine you can guess why,” I continue.

“You think she was the one who murdered Alaric and Elowen,” he says.

“I think she organized it, yes—with encouragement from the Temple, who wanted her wearing the crown. She didn’t know about me at first, but she got past that obstacle easily enough. Now, there’s very little in her way…and a lot working in her favor, because she’s got powerful backers.”

I watch Harman’s face for a reaction. I’m still deciding how much I’ll tell him. Understanding how much he already knows will play into that decision.

“We’re well aware that Oclanna is loyal to the Temple. Her husband’s family makes up some of their greatest supporters in Godom. I suspected the circumstances of the king’s and queen’s murders weren’t to be taken at face value, and if you also think it’s possible she’s behind their deaths…”

“There was very little evidence that the fae killed them, and it could all have been faked pretty easily,” I say. “And the night I left the palace, someone tried to kill me—a human I didn’t recognize. Prince Leonidas and Lord Gyrion saved me.”

Harman frowns, looking genuinely sympathetic. “That must’ve been terrifying.”

I blink, because up until now I don’t think anyone’s acknowledged exactly how hard all of it was. The weeks of not knowing what waited for me around the next corner, the sudden discovery I was being attacked, or kidnapped, or who knows what else.

“It was,” I say. “But I’ve gotten stronger since then.”

Harman watches me for a moment.