HarperCollins Publishers
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Meira
I TRY TOstumble through the celebration, but Nessa pleads with Sir to let me rest, and I can’t even begin to say how grateful I am for her insistence. She rushes to light candles around my room, and Sir stays fixed in the doorway between Conall and Garrigan, who resume their posts as if nothing’s changed. As if I didn’t have another panic attack and basically doom us to a Cordellan takeover.
Sir crosses his arms. “I’ll go with you.”
I drop onto my bed, one arm over my eyes as I listen to the steadyflick-swishof candles springing to life. “No. You need to stay here, in case Cordell—” I stop.
Noam is staying to more firmly plant himself in Winter in my absence.
I was such a fool.
“My queen, I implore you to—”
“Youimploreme?” I sit up. “But I guess that’s proper, ageneral imploring his queen. I’m too tired to argue this, Sir, so consider your imploring heard. But you’re still staying here.”
When I started speaking, Sir’s demeanor had been hard, defensive, but now he slumps against the door frame, his eyes glazed with an emotion I’ve never seen from him: pride.
He’s proud of me.
The little girl inside me, the one always so desperate for Sir’s approval, dissolves. But would he still be proud if he knew how hard I’m fighting to stay this calm? If he knew the raging battle in my mind, the fight between Meira the orphaned soldier and Queen Meira?
He’s proud of someone who doesn’t exist.
“All right,” he says. “But Henn will go with you. And Conall and Garrigan, obviously.”
“And me,” Nessa adds, holding a lit candle. “And Dendera will want to go with Henn.”
I nod. “Fine, but no more—I want people to stay in Winter in case Noam tries anything. I do plan on finding allies for us, regardless of the fact that he knows, but we need a firm presence here while I’m gone.”
“We won’t let my father get away with this.”
The voice shoots into the room along with a sudden “Halt!” from Conall.
I fly to my feet as Theron darts in, his hair waving loose from its knot. Sir jerks up, as ready to yank him out of the room as Conall and Garrigan.
But I throw my hands out. “No, it’s fine.” I eye everyone else. “Can you excuse us?”
Sir pauses, his glare swinging from Theron to me. I prepare to argue with him, to plead my reasons, when he nods.
“Conall and Garrigan will be right outside,” he says, more to Theron than me. “I should return to the celebration.”
My shoulders cave forward. It still seems wrong when he doesn’t fight me.
But he leaves, Nessa following him, and Conall shuts the door with one last cursory frown at Theron. When the door clicks, Theron relaxes, the strain in his shoulders giving way.
“I knew you were planning something,” Theron starts. “But I never thought it’d bethat.”
All the hurt I’ve been keeping in check strains to flood the air between us, but I keep my face stoic. “How did you know?”
“Because when you stepped into the ballroom”—he smiles—“you had the same look on your face that you had right before you locked yourself in my father’s study in Bithai.”
I can’t return his smile, though I feel how desperately he wants me to.
“I was wrong,” I say. “I shouldn’t have withheld what is owed to your kingdom. Wewillrepay our debt to Cordell.”Eventually.
