Ehmet trudged up to his room with the two missives in hand. Tomorrow was to bethe day, and his heart thundered in accordance with theimportance of the conversation he hoped to have with Hevva. As long as the dowager’s plans had gone accordingly, he’d be free to propose to the woman he should have held onto in the first place.
With shaking hands, Ehmet tore at the seal on the first note, having recognized his mother’s writing and deeming that one of utmost importance. Her letter was deceptively perfunctory, illuminating, and further kindled that burning hope in his chest.
A log of the healer who had attended the births of Ehmet’s grandfather and great-uncle was located beneath an old bookcase in the palace archives. Yusuf, with his distinctive birthmark, was confirmed to have been born second. The issue of the crown’s succession had finally been laid to rest.
His heart sang.
Furthermore, the Baron of Kashuvol, it seemed, had ridden west out of Serkath at the same time that Lady Tahereh had ridden east out of Appven. Whether pre-planned by the parties or felicitous, no one could say. But the lord and lady were discovered by some locals in a scandalously compromising situation at the Crown & Quill in Kashoorcih. Thus, the young lady would be calling off the wedding to the king. Ehmet was once again on the market.
His mother had cleverly worded the fate-shifting news as though it were the most mundane information she had to share.
Ehmet let the letter flutter to the floor as a grin split his face.Free. He was free.
The second missive confirmed it. It was a long but hastily scrawled note from Lady Tahereh apologizing for the unfortunate manner in which their engagement had come to an end. She went on to shine a peculiar light on the situation at Kirce during the house party:
. . .Let me express my most sincere apologies for the game of billiards. Please, do not fault your brother too harshly, as my mother was also key in arranging the charade. I should have told them I did not want to play. For, as it turns out, I find that I am quite taken by my Lord K, and hold hope he might make me his baroness.A step down from queen, to be sure, but much more to my liking, I assure you.
Please, Your Majesty, I beg that you express my deepest apologies to the friend of yours with whom I share snowy locks. I wish you all the best.
Your loyal subject,
Lady T.N.
Ehmet traced his finger over the page as he furrowed his brow.“. . . do not fault your brother too harshly...”
“That fucking bastard!” Ehmet threw the note as if it would hit the ground with force and stomped it to the floor when it floated down too slowly. He’d burn the damn thing, but Ehmet wanted to give Hevva the opportunity to read it.
Rage at Nekash boiled his blood as Ehmet leapt to his feet and began stomping around the room. That smarmy arseholeknewHevva hadn’t sent him that note, encouraged Ehmet to attend the meeting, and then brought the countess by to walk in on him and Lady Tahereh. He’d bet anything, his brother made a move on Lady Hevva themomentshe’d fled the room.
Bile rose up his throat and he swallowed it down with a growl. Nekash thrived on chaos andalwayswanted what he couldn’t have, be it the pomp of the crown that belonged to Ehmet, the wife of a traveling merchant, an uninterested lady, or apparently the happiness that Ehmet and Hevva had the potential to create.
“Gods! Fuck!” He clenched his hands into fists as he roared up at the ceiling.
It wasn’t long before a series of rather loud knocks sounded on his door. “Sir?”
Ehmet recognized the innkeeper’s voice. Shame at his unfettered outburst bloomed red upon his cheeks as he pulled open the panel.
She held out a glass and a carafe of clear liquor. “Thought you could use this...” The innkeeper glanced up and down the hall to ensure they were alone. Satisfied, she added in a whisper: “Your Majesty.”
There it is.He accepted the alcohol with a grateful nod. Someone exited their room down the hall and walked past.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, what direction are you headed?”
“Stormhill,” he ground out.
She nodded slowly. “Ah, I have it on good authority that the duke and duchess are currently in residence.”
“Good.”
“However,” the innkeeper lowered her voice, “if you’re looking for the young Lord Akkas, or perhaps Lady Hevva Tilevir, I have it onverygood authority that they arenotcurrently in residence.”
His heart dropped to the floor with such a resoundingthunk, he half expected the woman to look down at his feet. “Onwhosegood authority do you have this information?”
“Why, Lady Hevva’s, of course!”
“Is she here?!” Ehmet hadn’t meant to shout the question, but his heart had decided to leap from the floor up to his throat after the innkeeper answered him, shoving his words forth with a great burst of momentum. His eyes snapped from the carafe in his hand to the innkeeper’s face. The cunning woman knew how she was torturing him. Privy to all passing gossip, in her establishment on the great north road, she’d seen Hevva herself, possibly more than once in the past few weeks.
She frowned in apology. “She is not here.”
