Page 40 of To Touch A Silent Fury

I took a step back. I scanned the Thread’s expression, his manner, the way he held his body. He was tense, but there was nothing to indicate he intended a challenge. I could end him in seconds, even without my weapon. But his words were fighting words, and it was fortunate for him that no one else had heard them.

He accused me of what? Hiring an assassin against her? I had never done such a thing. Why did she believe I had?

You had thought to,Chaethor grumbled.Maybe she read it in your touch.

But I was not resolved then,I thought back.I had thought of her risk, certainly. In that room I had no thoughts of killing her.

Perhaps another sensed it.

I narrowed my eyes. “I can imagine one would have such reservations for such a suitor. But I cannot claim the action.”

The Thread studied me, and then nodded. “Interesting.”

I folded my arms. “What was your meaning? Was that nothing but a test?”

“It was no test. And if it was not you, I must discover the real culprit.”

I looked at Tanidwen again, unable to stop myself. “Someone tried to kill her, then?”

“A merchant in Lavendell Point,” he said, scanning me with the same scrutiny.

My blood heated, boiling up in my body in pure anger. I couldn’t fathom why it bothered me so. On dragonback not a week prior, I had thought to throw her in to my father, to report her Fate and see it Broken in any way possible.

Then I found I could not. I reached my father’s door, and somehow my words had failed me. I had only expressed the success of the trip north, and the unpleasant weather on Eavenfold. Tanidwen had been less than a sentence.

But someone else had seen her threat and had acted fast.

The Thread ducked his head. “Thank you for your time, my prince.”

I only nodded at the man as he left. I grabbed another cup of the Cavelot merle. I had hoped this dinner might have stocked some Vintarrun syra, but they had clearly stuck with the cheaper Scentlands offering. It was drinkable enough, and I took a seat at the edge of the room to gather my thoughts. Without even wanting to, I stared at the woman as she laughed at something Brascillan said.

Blessed Edrin. She believed I had given the order. Why?

You must have lost your charms,Chaethor rumbled.

I ignored her, thinking only of who could have ordered it.

Ravillin caught my eye then as he pranced about the room, ordering the servants like a preening peacock. It did little to settle my nerves. He was gaudily dressed and looked entirely ridiculous, a far sight from the man who had won this same bout a span ago. He’d all but bought his title with it. Some hillchild from the Flourines, and now he acted like he owned the place. Soon enough, though, some other peacock would hold the title, and its bounty, and ‘Lord’ Ravillin would cease to be relevant.

My indignation was more than the upstart man deserved, but it needed some direction. I followed Ravillin’s movementsabout the room, until he stopped his official duties to gaze upon the newest entrant. Another woman had entered the ballroom.

One I knew far too well and yet had never truly understood, and one whose eyes sought me out without hesitation. Yellow eyes, the colour of her wyvern, set in a pale face against dark russet hair. She gave me her version of a smile.

She glided down the steps, her walk so practised it was cloudlike with grace, and yet somehow still lacked the warmth of Tanidwen’s descent. Around the room, people noticed her, and words were exchanged. With twelve long spans, she was a woman of great beauty but far greater power.

I rose from my chair as she stepped towards me, falling like water into an effortlessly perfect curtsy. I bent low into a sweeping bow.

We regarded each other, little facets of tension slipping through our masks.

“Princess Derynallis, what a pleasant surprise,” I said.

My aunt smirked. “And you,” she said. “I was surprised to discover your attendance. Your father told me nothing of it.”

“He gave me leave to do as I wished after my return from Eavenfold.”

She raised a dark eyebrow, perfectly manicured and plucked. “And your wish was to attend these provincial games?”

All at once it fell into place. Why would my aunt be here? She rarely left Droundhaven but for diplomatic visits. This was a band of second sons. Certainly, her own (firstborn and only) son was here, but she had orchestrated that, too. I knew Septillis had years left on that forsaken island before he came into any kind of ability. Yet she had sent word for him to attend.