Page 106 of The Chains You Defy

Admittedly, I’d forgotten about my special case again. Yes, according to the males, there hadn’t been anyone with multiple predispositions before, but I’d never spared much pondering whether there were further implications.

“What about Larithia’s vision?” Not that the words of the seer we’d met in the Savatos Mountains a few months ago made sense, but they confirmed our potential involvement.

“The High King cannot learn about any of this.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. How ironic that a few moons back, I’d longed to break out of the life my parents had planned for me, and now, in the middle of what Rewi would call the adventure of my life, I was only yearning for some peace and quiet?

But mulling over everything would only drive me up the wall. Directing my gaze at Antas and the eerie mask he was wearing, I forced my lips into a tight smile.

“I found a deck of cards earlier today. Will you teach me Gods and Godlings?”

“Of course, Nayana. That is a splendid idea.”

My eyes darted to the washroom door, and I considered barging in for the millionth time. The broken chair in the corner—no, I didn’t regret vandalizing the piece of furniture. The destruction had calmed my nerves for some precious seconds before they’d returned in full force.

In front of the door, some of my magic dabbed against the wooden surface again and again. “Yes, buddy, me and you both.”

Oh fuck, had I just addressed the part of my powers mutinying my command as if it were a sentient creature? Like Nayana had done before? Wasn’tit already worrisome enough that the pesky nuisance could resist my orders?

Fuck, what was happening to me lately?

And why wasn’t Naya coming out of the bathroom?

How long could it take for such a tiny thing to get ready for a ball? If she didn’t appear soon, I’d have to leave before I could examine her and the dress I’d ordered for her.

Or—what if the maid wasn’t as loyal to me as I believed, and she was secretly an assassin sent by Galrach?

No. Deep breaths, Dion. Ten minutes was still perfectly acceptable to prepare for a court function. Right?

Burying my dark assumptions in the recesses of my mind, I concentrated on picturing the gown I’d commissioned for Nayana, and a pang of longing erupted in my soul.

The fact that I couldn’t accompany her to the ball was eating me alive. She belonged on my arm, but instead, I had to deal with Danartha because my grandfather was a massive elitist piece of shit who hated my guts and wanted to keep me as miserable as possible.

Fucking Danartha.

Hm, could I get away with killing her?

Probably not, since Galrach was holding his protective hand over the female for unknown reasons.

Maybe they were fucking. Ugh, the thought alone turned my stomach.

I paced another round through the bedroom, sneered at the appalling new drapes, and kicked another chair. The splintering noise was satisfactory but not enough.

Eleven minutes. She was in the bathing chamber for—ah, twelve minutes.

The unruly tendril hadn’t gotten the memo and hurled its matter against the door over and over again.

“You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Fuck. Still not sentient.

Maybe it was a shitty distraction, but I reached into the pocket of my tunic and unfolded the creased paper. Scowling, I was just as annoyed as yesterday when I’d received the note, but on the other hand, a petty joy danced in my stomach. I had plans, and although they weren’t as desirable as getting rid of the problem once and for all, I’d found at least a substitute that might not get me in too deep trouble with the high and mighty king.

Skimming over the text again, I glowered at the parchment, which smelled so much like jasmine that my nose burned.

I fucking despised jasmine.

Scriosta,