“I’m coming!”
“Not soon enough,” Vale murmured, his mind still on what might have been.
I rushed to the door and opened it. Thyra took me in, shared a pointed glance with Livia, who had taken over the morning guard, and smirked. Tonna was nearby, having relieved Astril at dawn, and behind them all hovered Valintin, Lord Balik’s butler.
“Oh hush.” I waved a hand at her even as my heart pounded at the sight of the dryad. Was this a good or a bad sign?
“About what?” Thyra teased. “That your hair looks like you were about to be ravaged?”
Valintin looked away, his cheeks reddening.
One hand shot up, and I found that, indeed, my plaited hair was not as neat as ten minutes prior. “What’s so important?”
“Lord Balik has summoned us,” she spoke in an oh so holy tone that didn’t suit her, and judging by the way her lips twitched with amusement, she knew it. “Hence why Valintin is still standing here, dying of embarrassment.”
“Why didn’t you say so right away! Let’s go!”
She grabbed my wrist. “Skies, I’m serious when I say your hair is a mess. Fix it first. Make a good impression and all that.”
I rushed to the mirror. Vale was standing by the window, his face lined with mirth.
“Did you hear her?”
“I have ears,” he said as I set to tucking wayward strands of silvery-white back where they belonged. “Do you want me to come?”
“Only us.” Thyra leaned against the doorframe. “That’s what the warden said.”
“You know where to find me if you need to talk afterwards.” Vale crossed the room and slipped out. Fixing the last strand of my hair, I followed a minute later, heart racing.
My sister and I didn’t speak as we made our way through the castle to a quieter wing of Ramshold. Unlike the first time, I recognized it as Lord Balik’s personal wing.
Valintin led us to the Warden of the South’s study. The guards at the door moved aside, allowing the dryad to knock, and when Lord Balik acknowledged the interruption, the butler poked his head inside.
“The Falk princesses, my lord.”
“Let them in.”
It was all I could do not to run inside and beg the High Lord of the Southlands not to leave us. Somehow, I exhibited restraint, as did Thyra, and together we glided into the study. This time, instead of sitting behind his vast desk, Tadgh Balik sat in one of the four chairs before his roaring fire.
“How are you not sweating?” Thyra asked, probably trying to lighten a moment that felt as heavy as an avalanche rolling over my shoulders.
“I’ve been chilled from within for days,” the lord replied. “But if you’d rather I snuff out the flames?—”
“No,” I said. “It’s not like we’re wearing furs. We’re fine.”
I was a little warm, but in no way did I want to make Lord Balik more uncomfortable than he already appeared.
My twin and I sat opposite the lord. He offered us wine. Usually, I’d say it was a bit early in the morning for such libations, but today I accepted for the sake of my nerves. Afterhe poured three goblets, he leaned back in his chair, and a gusty sigh left his lips.
“We’re so sorry,” I blurted, unable to hold my words in any longer.
Thyra shot me an incredulous look, but I didn’t care. For days, I’d been dying to speak with Lord Balik. To apologize.
“We should have told you,” I continued, “but we were terrified of what we might be able to do and how others would perceive us.”
“I cannot blame you. Especially given my reaction after you saved my son’s life.”
My throat tightened. “How is Filip?”
