Page 36 of The Shattered King

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Renn went rigid as glass.

“His army?” he asked.

The queen shook her head, and I let out all my air at once. “No, he’s ... he’s here as a delegate. To negotiate.”

“Himself?” Renn asked, incredulous. “Not an emissary?”

I knew Queen Winvrin hated my intrusions, but I spoke nonetheless. “I thought His Majesty had turned down the offer of negotiations.”

She didn’t reprimand me, and that scared me more than the trumpets and the frenzied staff did.

“He refused to host them,” she answered, focused only on her son. “King Nicosia has denied hearing us otherwise. This is ... unexpected. A move meant to rile us. We can’t turn him away. He’s waiting at the gates.”

“At the gates?” Renn retorted. “How did he get to the gates without warning?”

The skin around the queen’s eyes and ears reddened. “It’s a figure of speech, Renn!”

Renn’s brow furrowed. “Then negotiate with him. I don’t understand why you’re so panicked.”

She gripped his forearm. Squeezed until the pallor of her hands matched that of her face. “Renn, he is a dangerous man . Please ... please just do as I say. Please go to the tunnel.”

He resisted. “I know how to handle something like this. Let me listen to what he has to say. I can advise—”

Her hands went to her face. “Please. I know you cherish your new freedom, but please, do this for me.”

He hesitated. Frowned. “Adrinn and Eden—”

“I’ll send them along.” She pointed at the guards. “Go. Take the healer with you. Go. ”

Turning, she hurried back to the Great Hall.

Renn inclined his head. He was obviously not thrilled, but after seeing the queen’s desperation, even I wanted to obey her orders. Ard began leading us back the way we’d come, then down a tight, sloping corridor I’d never seen before.

I pinched the fabric over Renn’s muddied elbow. “What tunnel?”

We did not slow, but Renn lowered his head to me, his breath warm against my ear. “There’s a tunnel beneath the castle in case of a siege. To get the royal family, the women and children, out. It’s not well known.”

Nerves lit up through my limbs like fire set to pine resin. “I won’t tell a soul. Is ... is he really so dangerous?”

Renn shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never met the man. My mother is a worrier, but ...” He set his jaw. Swallowed. “This is different.”

I didn’t let go of his sleeve as we approached a column snug against a wall; Renn pressed his hand along it to reveal a hidden door there—its seams so fine I would never have found it on my own.

We slipped through to the narrowest, steepest set of stairs I’d ever beheld.

We moved single file, my knees aching as we went down.

The cold air pebbled my skin. Darkness shrouded us; I feared missing a step.

Then the stairs vanished, and I set foot on flat, packed earth.

Ard lit a torch and led us through another narrow corridor; the ceiling was so low even I, the shortest, had to duck.

It seemed to last forever—I thought this was the tunnel in question, but the corridor opened into a tiny, round chamber, a deep shadow on its far wall.

When Ard neared, I saw a hole, like a cave mouth, and an iron grate over it.

“Wait,” Renn said, listening. “Where are the others?”

The queen had said she’d send Prince Adrinn and Princess Eden after us. Adrinn might be needed for negotiations, but if Adoel Nicosia was as dangerous as the queen claimed, then Princess Eden should be here, too.

“We’ll wait for them,” Renn murmured, then leaned against the cool stone of the tiny room. The four of us barely fit inside it.

We did. We waited, and waited, and waited.

I wanted to pace, to let out the nervous energy building in my limbs, but there was no space, and I wanted to hear when their footsteps came down the stairs.

After a quarter hour, I approached Renn and took his hands—they were warm despite the chill and calloused, from his training—and dowsed into him, banishing thoughts of aspen woods and picnics as I did so.

His bruises showed on his baubles like darkened glass. I found a few others within the mess of pieces and separated them out before smoothing the splotches away. Good, this would help me characterize what was what, and hopefully help me piece together more baubles.

When I slipped back into reality, my teeth were chattering. Again, Renn reached toward me, then stopped himself. So subtle, but I’d noticed it, and it made me colder.

I set my jaw to quiet my teeth and averted my eyes.

Half an hour passed before Renn said, “Something’s wrong,” and started back for the low corridor.

Sten caught his shoulder. “Your Highness, the queen said—”

“Are you hers, or are you mine?” he asked. There was a slight edge to his voice, but it wasn’t directed at Sten. He was stressed. We all were.

Sten hesitated, then let Renn go.

I took up the rear this time, letting the guards go ahead of me. If something amiss had happened, they would do a better job of protecting the prince than I would. However, once we reached the main keep, my lungs and thighs burning from the stairs, everything seemed ... fine. Quiet, but fine.

We moved silently toward the Great Hall. Not to its floor, but to the arcade that ran along three of its four walls, a loggia with windows open to the room. The king and queen had met Adoel Nicosia in the Great Hall, not privately, and the gallery was already full of people. A few servants and—

Soldiers. Many soldiers.

Renn paused at the first opening, hidden by a stone pillar. I was less important, so I stepped past, pressing my hands to the balustrade, peering down into the packed hall.

It had been less crowded during Renn’s birthday celebration. Only instead of nobles, Canseren soldiers filled the space.

Men clad in black-and-red uniforms lined the walls, more numerous than the draperies.

They packed in around the thrones and doors.

They stood at attention in rows around the Sestan delegation, which seemed to be made of a dozen people, eight of which wore blue-and-black military uniforms. All with the same ratio of blue to black, I noticed.

I squinted. It seemed they delineated rank by the silver bars, or lack thereof, on their high collars.

A few glinted in the light. A handful of noblemen stood in front of the soldiers, and then in the very front stood a man who looked to be in his late forties.

He had short black hair cut in what I realized was a Sestan style, because it looked very similar to Verdanian Truline’s, the Sestan tailor who had made Renn’s clothes for his birthday celebration.

A shock of gray slipped over each temple.

His skin was shockingly white, the palest I’d ever beheld.

There was a notable gap between the Sestan delegation and the soldiers packing the room.

Only then did I remember that Sesta did not outlaw craftlock as Cansere did.

Among this group could be healers, soulbinders, and mindreaders alike.

All of craftlock activated through touch. Thus the gap.

I moved a little farther away. Renn hissed at me, but I ignored him. I was just a servant, a nobody. The queen only wanted me in the tunnel to keep Renn hale. I noticed Kilg a few windows down and sidled up to him. He glanced at me, but didn’t speak.

Adoel Nicosia was a relatively handsome man.

A broad nose took up the center of his face, and a triangle of dark facial hair had been shaved into his chin, pointing downward.

His face made me guess him to be closer to fifty, though I found it difficult to tell from the gallery.

He held himself as someone much younger.

He had threatened war. He was the reason Brien wasn’t in Fount, helping Lissel bear the family’s burdens.

It felt like a dream. Like I only imagined King Nicosia being there. Like I stood in a lumis, not in court.

I struggled to make out what he, Queen Winvrin, and King Grejor were saying. The queen gripped the armrests of her throne tightly, but the king appeared more at ease. In his body, at least. His brow was low, his face crinkled, like he did not like whatever he heard.

I thought I caught the word surrender .

The phoenix tapestry hung over his head, as though echoing the king’s fiery wrath.

“Absolutely not,” he said, and it carried.

Adoel Nicosia lifted a single hand, as though making an offer.

They continued like that, quiet, the finer pronunciations of their exchange muffled under the whispers of bystanders and the breaths of so many soldiers. I shifted to get a better view ... and paused.

King Nicosia wore a violet cincture. Violet for Zia.

I’d been alive nearly a quarter of a century, and I had never seen a man wear the violet of the goddess.

I puzzled over it a moment, unsure ...

perhaps it meant something different in Sesta.

I searched the others in the delegation to see if they too wore odd colors, but saw none.

I did spy Princess Eden among a cluster of guards off to the side of the king’s throne.

Leaning a little more, I spotted Prince Adrinn, too.

His steely eyes flicked up to me, as though sensing my gaze.

His expression darkened. He didn’t want me there.

A raised eyebrow ... perhaps wondering where Renn was?

From Prince Adrinn’s angle, he wouldn’t be able to see his brother.

Why ... why were they here, but Renn had been sent away? Did Queen Winvrin care only for her own flesh and blood, or had the elder siblings snuck or forced their way into this meeting the way Renn had done?

I glanced over at him, still concealed in the shadow of that column, out of the royals’ line of sight. Masked, cold, hawklike in his attention.

When I looked back, my eyes met Adoel Nicosia’s.

He was looking right at me. My internal organs froze and dropped into my pelvis. Thought puddled in my skull—

And then his eyes moved on, studying the entire gallery, taking it in.

“Am I boring you, Adoel?” King Grejor asked, clearly enough to be heard. Or maybe all of the Great Hall had been shocked into silence under the Sestan king’s glare as well.

King Nicosia smiled. “Not at all. I was simply admiring your hold.”

King Grejor’s expression darkened. “You will not have it.”

The Sestan ruler appeared unruffled. With a clear, calm voice, he replied, “These are just skirmishes, Grejor. Child’s play. Spring is on the horizon; the real war is coming, and mark me, you will not be able to defend against it.”

My breath caught in my throat. I could weep at the announcement, thinking of Brien in the war camps. Thinking of how an outright war would hurt the people—the common folk—the worst. Anger brewed in the back of my thoughts. What was the point of this?

King Grejor’s face turned ruddy. “And you expect me to hand over an entire kingdom based on a threat?”

Had King Nicosia asked for complete surrender? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. What he said next, I didn’t catch, but King Grejor did not pull back his volume.

“I don’t understand it.” He rubbed a spot on his forehead. “Why shatter centuries of peace? Your demands are nonsensical.”

King Nicosia shifted his head ever so slightly. I thought he looked directly at Queen Winvrin.

She stiffened but squared her shoulders. “It’s no matter, husband. All Adoel Nicosia wants is power.”

Bystanders murmured, and I was unable to catch anything else spoken over the din. But it did not seem the Noblewights would tolerate Sesta’s presence much longer.

A very slight cough touched my ears. Hardly noticeable, but I was so attuned to him, I knew. I drew away from the window as a ghost and carefully made my way back to Renn. He appeared fine but held a handkerchief in hand. He still wore his muddied clothes from the training grounds.

Close to him so my whisper would not carry, I said, “We should go.”

He shook his head, intent on watching.

I had to move even closer so others would neither hear nor see us.

I felt the heat radiating from him, smelled the earth on his clothes.

I did not like the way the heat seemed to jump from him and latch on to me, nor the way his sapphire-bright eyes were drawn to mine, as though I’d become far more entrancing than the delegation below.

“If you get sick, it will draw attention to you.” I thought of the moment King Nicosia had looked into my eyes and shuddered.

“You do not want his attention on you, Renn.”

Queen Winvrin certainly hadn’t.

He did not react, save for the setting of his jaw.

Roughly fifteen seconds passed before he drew away from the pillar, hesitant, glancing back to the meeting despite being unable to hear much of it.

He sank into the shadows, his guards and me flanking him.

When we reached his suite, I dowsed into him before he bathed, patching only a few things.

He would have been fine to watch the meeting, but I did not tell him as much.

Something about Adoel Nicosia bothered me deeply. Like my soul recognized something my mind didn’t, but I didn’t have the key to unlocking what .

By the time Renn washed and redressed, the Sestan delegation had left. The Noblewights hadn’t wanted to host, and apparently King Nicosia hadn’t truly wanted to negotiate. What he wanted still seemed murky, yet I was glad to see the back of him.

What it meant for the future, I couldn’t begin to guess.