Page 58

6

T eryn felt every muscle in his body uncoil. He hadn’t realized how badly he hadn’t wanted his father’s throne until he felt the responsibility slip from his hands. His lungs felt stronger. His heart lighter.

As he assessed his brother, he knew why. Larylis now bore all that Teryn had shrugged off. Guilt sank Teryn’s gut. He knew his brother didn’t want it. Knew Larylis held much of the same anguish over their father’s death. Perhaps it was cruel of Teryn to do what he’d done—to give him a crown he didn’t want—but it was the only way he could think to fix the mess they found themselves in. This way, Larylis could marry the woman he loved. And Teryn...

He shuddered at the void that stood in the space his father’s crown once filled. Without the mantle he’d been raised to bear…who was he?

The itch returned. He fluttered his fingers and shifted his stance just to feel his body move. He faced Verdian. “We’ve made our choices, Your Majesty. What’s yours?”

“Choice,” Verdian said with a scoff. “You’ve hardly given much thought to your so-called choice . How will your brother keep his rule strong?”

He felt Mareleau’s eyes burning into him, a silent plea for him to answer well. She’d gone silent since Teryn’s announcement, as if she feared any word from her would shatter what Teryn was attempting to fix.

Teryn glanced at Larylis. He stood as still as a statue, jaw set. His eyes were unfocused as if he were only half there.

Turning his gaze back to the king, he said, “Larylis’ rule will be strong, for he will have all our support. Selay’s. Khero’s. We’re already in the process of forging a peace pact between our three kingdoms. Let us write these new terms into it. If you’re determined that Selay and Menah will merge as one kingdom upon your death, then we’ll write it into the pact. That way anyone who defies Mareleau or Larylis will draw the wrath of all three kingdoms. As for other allies, I’m sure even the Kingdom of Tomas will support him, thanks to Prince Lexington. I too will support Larylis as my king with all my heart, and…” He swallowed hard as he glanced at his mother. “He’ll have Dowager Queen Bethaeny’s support as well.”

She paled, stunned silent. Then color pinked her cheeks. “You reckless, insensitive boy,” she said, voice trembling with restraint. “You ask too much of me. Too much of my heart.”

A lump rose in Teryn’s throat as he watched her turn on her heel and flee the study. He wanted to run after her, to explain, to apologize, but he needed to see this through.

He returned his attention to Verdian and continued. “King Larylis will be crowned on the fifth of July. If you would like your daughter to be made queen the same day, I suggest you accept these new terms.”

Queen Helena brightened at that. Gone was her previous disdain as she smiled up at Verdian. “The fifth! That’s only a few days from now. Our Mareleau could be queen so soon.”

Verdian ignored his wife and huffed a laugh, his eyes still trained on Teryn. “Is that when you were supposed to be crowned? You’re cutting it a little close to still be here.”

He was right, but he’d had his reasons. “I didn’t want to return home until I was assured of Princess Aveline’s safety.”

With a grumble, Verdian returned to the other side of his desk and sank into his chair. “And what shall we do with Princess Aveline?”

Teryn bit the inside of his cheek before answering. “I will marry her, pending her acceptance. The marriage alliance will be just as we’d planned before. Only a change of groom will be required. But I implore you, do not speak of this to her until I have spoken to her first.” His heart ached to recall her anger at him when they’d met in the hall. He couldn’t bear it if she learned of yet another development made without her prior knowledge.

Verdian rubbed his brow, sending his powdered wig slightly askew. Teryn held his breath as he awaited the king’s answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice brimming with grudging resignation. “Very well. But I have conditions.”

Mareleau stepped forward and took one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. She perched at the edge of her seat, fingers clawing into the armrests. “What might they be?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Verdian spoke only to Teryn. “Following Mareleau’s coronation, my daughter will leave for Ridine Castle. She will travel with Lord Ulrich. He’s already planning to lead the rest of King Dimetreus’ new staff and council to Ridine anyway.”

Mareleau lifted her hands from the armrests to anxiously weave her fingers through a lock of her silver-blonde hair. “Why would I go to Ridine?”

Verdian met his daughter’s eyes. “I want someone there who can get close to Aveline. Someone she will feel comfortable enough to confide in. I’d previously had it in mind that Larylis would stay at Ridine during their period of courtship and act as a spy.”

Teryn took a step forward. “Then I will take Larylis’ place.”

“No,” Verdian said, his lips lifting into a smug grin. “You must stay with your brother. Now that you’ve decided to turn over your crown to someone who is wholly unprepared, you’ll need to guide him.”

“But I’m pregnant,” Mareleau said, lifting her chin. “I can't travel.”

Helena stood by her daughter and rested a hand on her shoulder. “She’s right. She’s in no condition to travel all the way to Ridine. It’s bad enough that she’ll have to journey to Dermaine Palace.”

“Have some sense, Helena,” Verdian barked. “She isn’t far along. Besides, no one knows she’s with child yet. She’ll need to keep up the ruse that she conceived on her wedding night. Until it is proper for her to announce her condition, she will act as normal.”

Mareleau rose from her chair. “That’s unfair.”

Verdian pinned her with a hard look. “Those are my terms.”

Mareleau’s eyes darted from Verdian to Helena, then to Teryn, as if hoping one of the latter two might intervene. Teryn knew better than to argue now. Finally, her gaze locked on Larylis. He still stood frozen, hands behind his back like an obedient soldier. Her expression flickered with hurt.

Verdian followed her gaze. “What do you think about my terms, King Larylis?”

Teryn bristled at his mocking tone, but Larylis was unflustered. “I will agree to whatever terms you deem necessary.”

Mareleau pursed her lips as she burned Larylis with a glare he refused to meet. Turning back to her father, she said, “How long do you intend for me to stay there?”

Verdian rubbed his jaw, eyes unfocused, before he answered. “Until the end of July. On the final day of the month, we will convene at Ridine Castle to sign the official peace pact, solidifying these terms we’ve discussed. That will give us a chance to ensure once and for all that Aveline and Dimetreus can be trusted. Until then, keep close to Aveline. Report on her actions. Once the peace pact is signed, you may return home with your husband. Do you agree?”

She resumed weaving her lock of hair until her mother laid a hand on her fingers to still them. Mareleau dropped the tangled braid and folded her palms at her waist. “Yes.”

“Then I suppose it’s time to draw up a marriage contract.”

Teryn released a sigh. He’d done it. He’d managed to fix something before it was too late.

But there was still more to do. More amends to make. And a very important question to ask.

The doors to Cora’s room sprang open. Cora halted her pacing before her window and turned toward the door, grateful to have some distraction from her thoughts. She was desperate to rid herself of the memory of Teryn’s stricken face when they had spoken in the hall, of the courtiers who’d watched them with amused grins, of the betrothal she’d agreed to.

Lurel skipped into her room, a large box in her hands. The girl’s smile grew with every step she took toward Cora. “I have so much news to share with you, Your Highness!”

“What news is that?”

“First of all,” she said as she set the box on Cora’s bed, “everything is settled for your journey to my father’s estate.”

Cora furrowed her brow. “Your…father?”

“Lord Kevan,” she said.

Cora recalled the girl mentioning she was Mareleau’s cousin, but Cora hadn’t realized Lurel was the daughter of the man who’d be accompanying her to Ridine.

Lurel spoke again. “My next piece of news is even better! I’m coming to Ridine with you. I get to remain as your lady’s maid even after you leave here! I wasn’t sure Father would let me come, but since he’ll be going to Ridine too, he gave me permission. Isn’t that great?” The girl bounced on the balls of her feet. Her excitement was somewhere between endearing and annoying.

Cora gave her a weak smile. “How wonderful.”

Lurel beamed and lifted the cover off the box she’d brought. “This is my next piece of news.” From inside the box, she extracted a cloak of teal wool with brown leather running along the front seams and bottom hem. “It's your new riding cloak, made from the finest Aromir wool. Do you love it?”

Cora stepped closer to examine it. She ran her fingers over the wool, finding it impossibly soft yet dense. Aromir wool wasn’t something she’d had access to when she’d lived with the Forest People, for it was more of a luxury than a necessity. When it came to practical use, regular wool sufficed.

But when it came to a garment fit for a royal...

“It’s perfect.”

“Try it on,” Lurel said, already draping it around Cora’s shoulders. “The seamstresses will have a riding habit hemmed for you within the hour. If you’re still set on leaving tonight, we can depart by early evening. My father’s estate is only an hour away, so we’ll make it there by nightfall.”

“My brother is prepared to leave tonight as well?” A pinch of guilt squeezed her chest. After her confrontation with Teryn, she hadn’t had the courage to leave her room, which meant she hadn’t seen her brother since she’d abandoned him at the meeting.

“He has left it up to you, Your Highness.” Lurel straightened the length of the cloak while Cora secured the clasp. She noted its shape—a purple oval with a black mountain. Khero’s sigil. She hadn’t worn something bearing her kingdom’s sigil since she was a child. It made her throat feel tight. Lurel’s voice called out from behind the dressing screen. Cora hadn’t noticed when she’d flitted over there. “Can we throw this one out then?”

Cora frowned at the stained garment Lurel held by the tips of her fingers. She took the battered cloak from Lurel, her eyes falling on the torn hem where she’d cut a bandage for Teryn’s wound after the battle at Centerpointe Rock. She remembered how he’d looked at her then, how he’d placed his hand on hers after she’d finished wrapping the wool around him. The thought was quickly replaced with the pain she’d felt at discovering he’d bargained off her hand to his brother.

“Might as well burn it.” Gritting her teeth, she folded up the cloak with far more force than necessary and strolled over to the hearth and the warm blaze within. Now that she’d officially reclaimed her title as princess, she didn’t have to beg for her hearth to be lit; it was simply done. She folded the cloak tighter and prepared to toss the bundle on the flames when she felt something hard beneath her palm. Frowning, she paused and searched for the source. From within one of the inner pockets, she extracted a large amber crystal.

Her heart leaped into her throat. Murky energy thrummed against her palm?—

“What is that?” Lurel appeared at Cora’s side, eyes wide.

“It’s nothing.” She threw the cloak into the fire. As Lurel’s eyes followed the garment, Cora stashed the crystal into the pocket of her new cloak. Her mind reeled. How had she forgotten that she’d taken Morkai’s crystal from the battlefield?

Lurel looked back at Cora, eyes searching her now empty hands. She opened her mouth, but a sudden chime of bells drowned out whatever she was about to say.

“What is that?” Cora asked. The bells resounded far too many times to mark the hour.

Lurel clasped her hands to her chest. “That must have to do with my next piece of news! I heard the gossip on my way here. Princess Mareleau is getting married. Well, those chimes must be announcing that it has already happened. It seems there will be no fuss or ceremony. It’s rather last minute, don’t you think? But her engagement has already lasted three years. It makes sense they would wed so fast, I suppose. There is to be a feast tonight. We cannot go, for we will be on the road by then. Unless you want me to ask my father to postpone?”

Cora tuned out the girl’s voice as she spun on her heel. Her steps were slow and heavy as she made her way to one of the windows. She watched as courtiers chatted animatedly in the garden below, probably gossiping about the princess’ surprise nuptials. Something dark heaved in her chest, but she refused to let it out. She was too afraid it might be a sob.

No, she wouldn’t cry.

She wouldn’t.

Why should she, anyway? Had she not admitted that a loveless political marriage would be better for her? If Teryn had wanted her hand, it would only complicate things. Her feelings for him represented something she wasn’t ready to accept—surrender. Should she marry for love, she’d have to give a piece of herself away. Her magical self. She knew she’d never be accepted as both a royal and a witch. Should she forge any heartfelt ties beyond what was necessary for the safety of her kingdom, she’d never have the option to return to the woods. She’d be nothing but Princess Aveline forevermore.

No, that was not something she could give in to just yet. While she knew she no longer belonged with the Forest People, she didn’t fit with the royals either. Her place was yet to be discovered. In the meantime, she’d play the royals’ games. Agree to their terms. Serve her kingdom. So long as she kept one foot out the door, she’d have means for escape. For freedom. For a future where she could be herself again.

Lurel came up beside her and handed her a folded piece of parchment, sealed with a simple, unmarked blot of wax. “Here is my final piece of news, though I can hardly call it that. I don’t know what it is. A servant brought it to me and asked that I deliver it to you.”

Cora took the note from the girl and flicked the seal with her thumbnail. She unfolded the paper to find a short letter that read:

Cora,

Meet me in the garden after dinner.

Please.

—Teryn.

“What does it say?” Lurel asked.

Cora crumpled it into a ball and brought it to the hearth. “Nothing important. Come. Let us prepare to leave. We’ll make no fuss about it either. Tell your father to keep our departure quiet. We wouldn’t want to take away from the princess’ happy day.” She said the last part with no small amount of malice and tossed the letter into the flames.