He motioned for a guard. “I will send out the notice tonight. My riders will not stop until all eight kingdoms have been summoned. Until then you will stay under my protection. A full guard detail will stay with you, day and night. And the crown will remain in my possession.”
“No.” A hysterical laugh bubbled out of me. “Absolutely not.”
He glared at me, a low growl tinging his threat. “Well it cannot stay with you only for you to disappear in the dead of night. How foolish do you think I am?”
“How can I escape if your guards are with me day and night?”
“It can stay with me,” Taelon stepped in. “I can be the unbiased third party.”
I nearly rolled my eyes at his use of the word, “unbiased,” but I figured that was bad form for serious negotiations.
Tyrn stared at Taelon as if trying to figure him out. “I assume you would like to avoid war as much as I would?”
“More so,” Taelon agreed.
“Alright,” Tyrn agreed. “It stays with the crown prince of Soravale, but only because Conandra has already been called.”
“Fair enough,” Taelon agreed.
He held his hand out, but even to this man I trusted so fully, I had a hard time handing over the crown. The second Taelon held it, I wanted it back.
Tyrn’s voice pulled me from my panic. “I know you understand what happens if you win the council, girl. But do you comprehend your fate should you lose?”
“Dungeons,” I answered him. “For the rest of my life.”
His smile revealed a madness that terrified me. “And I shall do my very best to make sure your life stretches as long as it can.”
I gathered my courage and met his pale blue gaze. “It’s good to be home, Uncle.” I curtsied low.
“Crenshaw!” my uncle demanded. “Show these imposters to their rooms.”
24
Crenshaw, a man that reminded me alarmingly of my uncle, deposited me in my rooms as he was told.
Unlike in Soravale, alone in my chambers felt truly alone. Oliver wasn’t just across the corridor. Taleon wouldn’t be sneaking into my bedroom. I was finally home and truly isolated for the first time since I could remember.
Still dirty from traveling, I pulled off my boots, retrieved Shiksa from my satchel, and curled up in the center of the large bed. She pressed against me, offering comfort that I desperately needed. She mewled her hunger, but there was nothing I could give her.
I had ensured that we were now prisoners in the very place that should have welcomed me with open arms. My uncle’s greed clawed at my gut. Taelon had been right. Hugo had been right. There was darkness to Tyrn that could not be easily explained. And it was not born from grief of losing his family.
I shivered in the chill of the room. The fire had not been lit, nor had the candelabra. The light from the windows faded from gray to black, and eventually Shiksa and I had to wiggle beneath the thick quilts to keep our teeth from chattering.
Finally sleep found me and with it, the nightmares I was so accustomed to. Only in the place where I had witnessed my family’s deaths, they were more vivid.
I dreamed of the moments before Taelon and I stumbled upon the bodies. Of how he made me laugh and smile until my cheeks hurt. And then we turned a corner and horror stripped all happiness from me.
In my dream, the blood rose up to my ankles, coating bare feet with sticky crimson. My brothers lay with severed heads and open, sightless eyes. My mother’s hand reached out as if her corpse stretched to touch me. My father’s sword sat untouched, useless in the hilt at his hip. And this time, there was not one raven perched in the window, but a legion of them.
They circled the exaggerated ceiling, swooping down to peck at the bodies. They filled the windows, cawing and screaming to each other.
The air smelled of bloodshed and despair, but something more this time. There was smoke drifting from across the corridor, curls of wispy black floating from a cracked doorway. There was a spicy thickness to it that felt vaguely familiar.
A raven landed on my father’s chest, holding my gaze before snapping its beak down to peck at his eyes. I screamed when a figure appeared in the doorway, framed by smoke. The incense began choking me. My screams faded into coughs. I doubled over, desperate for clean air.
I watched boots move toward me. I lifted my head, determined to find the identity of my family’s murderer. Instead, blinding light flashed through the room, covering the bodies on the ground and causing the birds to flee. The boots shifted backward, retreating from the bright light, and before I could brace for it to hit me, I woke, startled and covered in sweat.
I lay on my back, clutching at the sheets while Shiksa moved to my chest so she could lick my chin. I shivered and pulled her into the nook of my arm, trying to hold on to the slipping fragments of my dream.
That strange scent filled my head again and when I inhaled I could have sworn I smelled it in my room. I lifted my head and looked around. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but there was nothing to see. No smoke-filled doorways, or dead loved ones. And yet I had the sense that I was not alone.
I lay awake for quite a while before I found sleep again. And when at last I drifted away, I had the strangest desire for Cavolian stew.
The next day, breakfast was brought to my room by Matilda, my servant from Soravale. She was to attend me through the trial. I was grateful for a familiar face.
When the afternoon meal was brought, I was informed that I would be joining my uncle for supper. Conandra or not, Crenshaw explained, King Tyrn was both benevolent and gracious. It would be an honor
