Knightfall (Page 22)

“Ahh,” Willard nodded.

Good save.

“Were you successful?”

Willard’s last question was like an arrow to my heart. I met his eyes and fought back tears. I had to answer him. But I couldn’t let him see how the answer affected me. A queen had to appear in control. “No. Not quite.”

Quinn swung open the door at that point, cutting off our conversation and any further confessions I might have made.

Chapter Fourteen

Quinn hustled me down the stairwell, berating me.

Then I spent the afternoon surrounded by tutors, updating me on the status of each of Evaness’ provinces. That was how I spent the next two weeks. Reviewing the provinces, our nobles and their alliances, then reviewing the foreign countries and our current relationships with each.

Sedara was our strongest ally, thanks to my ‘marriage’ to Declan, bastard son of their queen. But, our relationship with them had become strained over the past year.

Declan supervised me but didn’t participate for the most part. He sat at a separate desk, as far from me as he could get, running his hands through his blond hair and staining it with ink from his quill as he muttered about holdings and livestock and tried to puzzle out the issues from different provinces. Somehow, he did manage to listen with half an ear. He’d interrupt my tutors if he disagreed with some fact or figure.

“Sedara and Cheryn actually have had at least twenty aggressive incidents over the past eighteen months,” Declan interrupted the young man talking about the two countries. “Cheryn’s sultan has sent pirates, stolen goods, been really aggressive. Only seven of those incidents are considered public knowledge. The remainder, I’ll tell you about some other time.”

My stomach fell. Twenty incidents? That was serious. I turned to him. “How about now?”

Declan glanced meaningfully at the ledgers he was working on.

I ignored him and turned to my tutors. “Please give us the room for half an hour.”

The men bowed their way out, and I looked sharply at Declan, who sighed. “As you know, Sedara, has the strongest navy. That navy controls access to a lot of trade. Sultan Raj is ticked about that. Sedara’s navy also controls the magical weapons made by the elves on the Isles of Peth.”

I nodded. “Access to Peth’s weapons made a difference during the last Fire War. It’s how Mother survived.” I clamped down on memories of running through the woods—of treetops that flickered like matchsticks, burning from the top down. I shook off thoughts of my fathers, herding me toward a royal safe house underground, away from the dragons that scorched the countryside.

Declan inclined his head in agreement. “I’m pretty sure Sultan Raj thinks elven weapons will make a pretty big deal in the next one, too.”

Fear pulsed white-hot in my stomach. I didn’t want to live through another war. Ever again. Chances of me surviving one were slim. I gulped and stared up at Declan. “When do you think that might be?”

He shrugged, unaware of my discomfort. “The confidential incidents this year have all been to do with attempts to steal elven weapons. Cheryn’s only been successful once, that we’re aware of. They stole a shipload of enchanted chains that bind the wearer. Force him or her to do as told.”

A shiver ran through me. “And one of the princes of Cheryn is coming here … to meet my sister.”

Declan sighed. “Yes. And that’s all strange as well. Five brothers. One full djinn. The other four are half. And they’re sending the eldest, but the least powerful brother. He supposedly only has super speed in his arsenal of tricks.”

“Why are they sending the weakest prince?”

Declan shrugged. “Unsure. Unless they’re sending him with a length of elven chain they think makes up for that weakness.”

I meet Declan’s eyes. “Shite. So, they don’t really want an alliance? Quinn’s people are going to search each and every one of his bags. No one is to accept anything from them. Nothing. What kind of magical spells work with those chains? Do we know?”

Declan rolled his eyes. “There you go with the drama again. Is this the fire salamander all over again?”

I grabbed Declan by the collar. “I’d rather be insane than have my sister attacked or dragged off like some—”

“Calm down. Cheryn would need to ally with either Rasle or Macedon in order to launch an attack against Sedara. Rasle’s queen and Sultan Raj don’t get along, so no alliance will happen there. And Macedon’s offended that Prince Abbas is coming here to court Avia, an underage princess, when their own princess is of age.”

I watched Declan’s eyes. The blue was soothing. I slowed my breathing as I held his gaze. “I’m scared for her,” I whispered.

His hand reached up and stroked mine. “That’s really why you came back?”

I nodded.

He gave a small smile. “I might, possibly, be starting to believe that. We’ll look out for her, alright?”

Gratitude and relief swelled in my chest. “Thank you.”

I had calmed down. But I didn’t move. Declan didn’t stop stroking my hand. He didn’t break my gaze. My stomach began to buzz with nervous energy as I searched Declan’s eyes. I wasn’t sure if there was something there. Or I simply wanted something to be there. I took a bracing breath. I leaned forward slightly—

The tutors walked back in. And the moment was broken. Declan let go of my hand and dropped my gaze.

Disappointment blotted my vision when I returned to my seat. The words on the paper didn’t make as much sense, nor the tutors’ words. It was as though my ears were suddenly full of cotton.

Declan went back to his work. He seemed maddeningly unaffected. He didn’t mention that moment again. Not that day. Or the next.

I didn’t bring it up, except to relay the information about chains to Quinn and ask him to look into it. But sometimes, I snuck glances at Declan. Wondering, hopeful glances. He’d stopped hating me. Maybe, eventually, I’d convince him I was worth liking. At least a little.

“Princess Bloss?” an annoying tutor (whose name I’d forgotten) dragged me away from staring at Declan.

I returned to my studies.

Tutoring went on. And on. And on for days.

Every night, I was exhausted, because the tutors were told by my mother to give me crisis scenarios to ponder and solve. Every day I killed thousands of imaginary people. It left me wrung out, emotionally and mentally. Declan would hand my limp brain and tired bones off to one of my other husbands for ‘wife watch’ and go on his merry way.

If there was a formal dinner, I’d be handed off to Connor and his smooth-talking ways. I’d fumble my way through, trying not to offend ridiculously prickly court personalities; Connor would follow in my wake and clean up my messes. My four years outside the palace walls had—unfortunately for Connor—deteriorated my bullshite tolerance levels.

Two elderly noblewomen tittered on about the silk gowns they’d just ordered in from Rasle, our neighbor to the east.

“Actually, I know that the silk from Rasle is often woven out of false materials. Even spelled materials. You can test it by burning a strand. Real silk smells like burnt hair. Quite a few seamstresses have commented on how annoying it can be to think they’re working with one material when—”

Connor grabbed my elbow. “Ladies, you look lovely this evening. Those gowns are magnificent. May I steal my bride for a moment? There’s a gentleman clamoring for a dance with her.”

He led me away. “Bloss—”

“What? Their dresses might have been silk, but—”

“Just compliment them next time.”

“I’m awful at queening,” I sighed.

Connor’s lack of response only confirmed it. “Who am I supposed to dance with?”

“The ambassador from Macedon has a son visiting. He’d like to dance with you.”

Connor brought me to a corner of the ballroom where Avia and a handsome young man were making small talk. As we got near, Avia let out a flirty giggle.

I did a double-take and re-evaluated the ambassador’s son. He was tall and built. He had to be my age. At least six years older than my sister. Too old for her. Not to mention, mother would never approve of an ambassador’s son. Too bad. He was handsome enough. He had wavy brown hair and dimples.

Suddenly, I saw him sweep Avia into a dip and kiss her. Then he swung her over his shoulder, pounded his chest, and ran out of the room.

I blinked.

Everyone was back in place, chatting normally.

Quinn was messing with me again.

Stop. Or I’ll trounce you.

You can try.

Quinn’s bullshite distracted me when I should have been listening to Connor’s introduction. I suddenly found myself dancing with the man and I didn’t even know his name.

“Alright, if I admit I was distracted by your dimples, will you tell me your name again?” I smiled.

“Mateo,” he grinned.

“Mateo, I saw you talking up my sister over there. She’s pretty wonderful, huh?”

He blushed. “Do all monarchs speak this way?”

“I’ll probably get a lecture later. But … your impression?”

“She’s very sweet.”