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18

NERYS

Rowan opened his bedchamber door. He looked like a prince, or at least a high-ranking nobleman.

“You received my message, it seems?” I asked.

“I did.”

Since this afternoon, when Marek returned with us to the palace, we hadn’t yet spoken alone. Although they seemed initially at odds, Rowan and Marek had warmed to each other on the walk back. I’d remained mostly silent, exhausted, confused, and more than a little excited. I’d never been able to calm such a large portion of the sea before. Since sea-binding was my weakest skill, the idea that I truly may prove more skilled than Queen Lirael had taken root. The responsibility that went along with such a fact weighed heavily on me.

And yet, it wasn’t the possibility of becoming Thalassaria’s next queen that kept me so silent.

There was no doubt the kiss I’d shared with Rowan was not some simple lovers’ exchange that could be enjoyed and forgotten. Falling for a human? I’d never considered the possibility before. Now, however, I couldn’t think of anything other than how it felt to be in his arms. The ease with which we came together. If not for Marek, we may have not stopped. At least, I would not have been the one to stop us, certainly.

I hadn’t expected Marek to walk with us all the way back to Rowan’s chamber, but apparently, he wished to speak with me alone. Even after I attempted to explain my reasoning, why I’d decided to challenge the queen, he had continued to prod. Finally, I reminded Marek that his understanding of the situation was less important than the fact that I did, indeed, intend to follow through.

My parents would approve.

It was the last thought he’d left me with when Eoin found us, giving me the queen’s message. The presence of both myself and “the human emissary” were requested at this evening’s meal. Was it to finally reprimand me for ignoring her command? Or worse, had she somehow guessed my intentions? My training grove was well-hidden, but even so… being summoned was not a regular occurrence.

“That is a beautiful gown.”

If I were being honest, I’d have told him it was one of my favorites and that I’d worn it specifically for him. A deep teal along the hem lightened as it made its way upward, the neckline nearly white. A swirling pattern, reminiscent of waves, highlighted my breasts, its deep V cut almost approaching my waist. Although I normally disliked the formality of dining in the main hall, this eve was an exception. If it weren’t for the queen’s summons, I’d have thoroughly enjoyed a reason to wear this gown… to dine with Rowan… to have him look at me this way.

“Thank you. Aneri had it made for me many years ago, when I was first brought to the palace.”

Would he mention our kiss from earlier today?

“Nerys.” His jaw flexed, Rowan’s penetrating gaze knowing.

Though a part of me wanted to discuss it, I was suddenly feeling more shy than I had a right to be. I’d lived for many years and could navigate the after-effects of one simple kiss with a human man, could I not?

“We should go. I am rarely summoned by the queen, and the meal will begin soon.”

“Of course.”

Taking my hint, Rowan closed the door to his chamber and we made our way to the hall. When it was full, the palace hall could hold well over two hundred. But this eve, as most days, there were less than thirty in attendance.

When Rowan offered the crook of his arm, I took it as if striding through the tables together was something we’d always done. A warmth spread through me, as if I’d just jumped into a hot spring. None took note of it, the formality of Queen Lirael’s court one I’d never particularly appreciated until now.

“The tiles.” Rowan was looking at the far wall where schools of fish and coral reefs were depicted. “How is that achieved?”

It was a feature of the dining hall that I particularly adored.

“They are enchanted with bioluminescence, capturing the shifting light of the deep sea. Does it not look almost real?”

We’d reached the table where I sat most days.

“It does,” he said, pulling out my seat. “As if we are under the sea.”

Rowan sat across from me, and thankfully, our small table was thus far empty.

“Look up,” I told him, and he did. “The ceiling is meant to resemble the underside of a wave frozen in time. The seashell chandeliers, if you look carefully, are interspersed with pearls enchanted in the same way as the fish scales on the wall tiles.”

As Rowan continued to peer at the vaulted dining hall ceiling, I studied his expression. Seeing things through his eyes reminded me of my early days at the palace. I had been in awe of everything around me, often wishing I could have served here at the same time as my parents.

“Thank you,” I said as wine was served and Rowan turned his attention to me.

We’d ridden a pelagor today. I calmed a larger portion of the sea than ever before, emboldened by a sign that may be nothing more than legend. One I hadn’t yet had a chance to tell Rowan about yet. Come to think of it, I’d not even shared the experience with Marek. And it was not because of what I’d done or the impact of my decision to challenge the queen.

The simple fact was, despite all that was happening, it was our kiss that I could not get from my mind.

“May I join you?”

The quiet question came from a man who rarely dined in the hall. A vaelith named Thalon whose long beard was braided and adorned with pearls.

“Of course,” I said as he sat.

Thalon’s gaze, so often distant as if the historian were lost in thought, was sharper this eve than most.

“There is talk,” he said to Rowan, “that you plan to remain for the Festival of Tides.”

The cup bearer filled Thalon’s glass, though he did not seem to notice. I thanked the servant for him.

“I do. I am Sir Rowan of Estmere and pleased to meet you?—”

“Thalon,” I provided. “He has resided in the palace for centuries and knows more of Thalassarian history than most. Do you remember,” I asked him, “when we first met? In Ventara?”

“Nerys,” he said to Rowan, “could be found in the Deep Archives more than any other in Thalassaria.”

“Not more than Thalon,” I argued. “Though I’m unsure why as he must have read every tome in its depths, more than once.”

The old man sighed, though did not disagree. “So tell me, Sir Rowan of Estmere, why are you here?”

Rowan was spared an answer as another of the palace inhabitants sat beside him, a beautiful woman, no more than twenty years older than me. Carys was a sharp-tongued Thalassari diplomat with light-brown hair, streaked with unnatural shades of red, and eyes like polished turquoise. It was rare for anyone to change their hair coloring, Thalassari highly valuing nature’s own contribution to how they appeared.

We sat together for meals often enough for me to know our energies did not align well.

“He is on a mission from King Galfrid,” she said, abrupt as always.

That earned her a look from Rowan that was one I did not often see from him. He had a right to be wary. Carys had long desired the queen’s attention, and received it, as one of her favorites. But that ambition had made her few friends at court.

“Indeed,” he said smoothly, “I am. But it seems you are at an advantage, knowing much more about me than I do you.”

If I didn’t know him better, it would seem Rowan was flirting with her. Somehow, I knew he was not. But Carys, as sharp as she could be, did not seem to realize it. Her painted red smile lacked any warmth.

When she did not offer her name, I provided it.

“Carys,” I said as a clam soup was placed in front of each of us. I looked to the dais, which was still empty. Odd. The first course was never served before the queen arrived.

“A human,” Thalon said, twisting one of the pearls in his beard, “on a mission for the Aetherian king? It would seem the return of his daughter has initiated some interesting alliances.”

To anyone watching, Rowan would not have appeared bothered in any way as conjecture around his presence swirled. Placing his spoon to his lips, he seemed more concerned with the soup in front of him than the discussion.

When he finished, Rowan responded casually. “I have met Princess Mevlida. She is every bit the woman one would expect of King Galfrid.”

If the others noticed he didn’t answer Thalon’s question, or respond to his observation, they forgot it quickly. Both asked him question after question about the princess, how she came through the Aetherian Gate, her father’s reaction and more. Some questions, he answered. Others, he evaded, telling them even less than what he’d told me.

But many additional questions remained. Why did Galfrid send Rowan on such an important mission? Though Rowan had admitted there were things he could not tell me, he had never hinted at what those things might be. The more I got to know of him, the more certain I was that Rowan held back more than he shared.

When the main course was served, I finally interrupted their questioning.

“The queen is not attending the meal?”

Thalon did not appear concerned. After all, the queen missed as many meals as she attended. That she’d summoned Rowan and I to be here, though, was exceedingly odd.

“We’d not be eating already if she was,” Carys said.

There was something about her tone that suggested Carys might know more than she let on. As a part of Queen Lirael’s inner circle, I would not be surprised if she knew precisely why the queen summoned us.

Rowan and I exchanged a glance. I attempted to communicate my concern without allowing Carys to see it and might have been too subtle. He simply smiled and continued to eat his meal, praising its flavor and Thalassari cuisine.

When dessert was served, still with no word from the queen, and after more questions from Carys than would be deemed polite, my suspicions grew. And were confirmed when she asked Rowan if he was looking forward to the festival.

Rowan had not told her for certain he was staying until then.

His response was calm, effortless. “Very much. I’ve heard of the Festival of Tides, of course, but never thought to witness it myself.”

Carys’s smile faltered, the polite curve of her lips thinning as though she’d expected more. She swirled the wine in her glass, Carys’s gaze lingering on Rowan in a way that made me tighten my grip on my glass.

As the final course was cleared, she rose, her movements deliberate and poised. “Enjoy your stay, Rowan,” she said, her tone sweetly sharp, like a dagger wrapped in silk.

Rowan inclined his head, his easy charm unbroken. “Thank you, Lady Carys.”

I said nothing as she left, Thalon following not long afterward.

“She summoned us,” I said, keeping my voice low, “and yet she doesn’t appear.”

Rowan lifted his gaze to the empty dais. The sharp planes of his face were steady, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. “Carys is close to the queen?”

“She is,” I confirmed.

“Perhaps she wanted her court to ask questions for her.” Rowan’s eyes flicked to mine, and for a moment, the queen’s motives didn’t matter. Earlier, outside his chamber, I wanted to forget our kiss, knowing it was something we should not repeat. But when Rowan looked at me that way, I forgot to care about all the reasons the two of us wouldn’t work. “Then let’s give her something worth watching,” he said, his voice low.

Heat rose to my cheeks. “You’re far too comfortable with this game.”

“You’re far too quick to assume I’m playing.”

Oh, he was playing. If nothing else, this dinner told me as much. King Galfrid had sent Rowan of Estmere on this mission for a reason. And I was beginning to work out at least part of that reason: Rowan’s charm hiding his slyness.

Whether we admitted it or not, liked it or not, we were already part of her game. And I wasn’t sure if Rowan would prove my greatest ally—or my undoing.