Page 33 of The Chains You Defy

“You have to do me a favor.”

If Fig was surprised, he didn’t show his confusion. Of all the people around me, he was the one best in control of his facial features. Still, I’d expected at least a small sign of bewilderment, as I usually didn’t bother to ask for boons or anything. Ordering and commanding, I could do. But politely—yes, I’d been polite—requesting?

How curious.

Was my recently changed mindset softening me?

Ugh, not good at all.

“What favor?”

“We haven’t discussed our strategy yet, but I’m sure we’re all well aware that we’ll have to return to Galanta sooner rather than later.”

“Yes. I don’t think we can avoid following Galrach’s summons.”

“In Alaiann—I want you to keep an eye on the others when I can’t.”

“Of course.”

“And—”

“And?”

“On me. I don’t know what King High and Mighty will try, only that it’s a given he’ll attempt something.” I fought against gritting my teeth, but couldn’t stop my jaw from locking.

Asking anyone to watch out for me was a special kind of horror, which I despised, because as much as I regarded myself as indestructible, when it came to my grandfather and his ways of containing me, I was far from having an advantage.

He had the upper hand, and no matter how hard I was rebelling, helplessness never stopped clawing at my insides. Not that I’d resisted Galrach during the past decades, but the last months had caused a change in me. My eyes were open, and I couldn’t allow him to force me to submit to his every whim any longer.

Fig scanned me, and his scrutiny had me straighten involuntarily. I checked the mask of indifference I wore before I sighed and endured doubt marring my face.

“We will, Dion. Every single one of us. You don’t have to ask.”

A trickle of relief wrapped around my anxiety, and I nodded. “But there’s something else.”

“What?”

“The merchant.”

“What about him?”

“He’s still alive. I can smell his vile stench whenever I breathe.“

“Yes. And? Do you want me to get you a fancy assortment of aromatic oils?”

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, I glowered through my brows as a cruel smile appeared on my face. “He must die for what he did to Nayana.”

My general didn’t seem surprised, more contemplative, and his gaze crawled all over my form, alerting me to him assessing and calculating. Sometimes, I wondered what was going on in his mind when he strategized.

“You know how much of a diplomatic disaster hunting down Feroy would be? You’re a foreign royal guest staying here because of a relic of a protocol, after all. One, King Pritatus and all the monarchs before him in their graves surely regret having forgotten to abolish. Even though this prospect should be impossible, acting on your petty revenge fantasies could burn all remaining bridges between Galanta and Ivreia permanently, and this time, such an outcome would be your fault alone.” He tapped his chin with his index finger. “There’s no way I can change your mind?”

“No, Fiolar. The merchant’s demise is as inevitable as the sun rising every morning. If you’d seen what he did to Nayana, you’d understand why I can’t tolerate worlds where scum like him is alive.”

“I feared so.”

“Besides, the consequences afterward—even if they were of any importance to my decision—won’t be as drastic as you paint them. After all, Queen Anneria approves.”

“Maybe of the outcome. But of your methods? That’s very unlikely.”