“Y-you’re home,” I say, sounding both surprised and concerned.
I didn’t hear him come in.
I glance across the room and Cyran stands in the doorway, facing the hall. I’ve lost track of time—something tells me I’ve been here longer than an hour staring at these pages.
Ryc twists the chair beside mine as he seats himself.
“I called to you,” he says, reaching for the underside of my chair. He turns me in his direction and the chair groans with resistance. “I didn’t realize you were so lost in thought.”
With a smile, he replaces my hands upon my knee, lending his warm touch to relieve the lingering pain.
“I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, his voice apologetic.
I wave his concerns away with a hand. “No, no bother,” I reply. And honestly, it is no bother. There are larger concerns to discuss. Without waiting, I launch into them. “How did the meeting go? Did Rowen have anything to say? The council—what does the council think of all this?”
Ryc chuckles, delight sparking in his topaz eyes as he continues to massage my knee.
“It’s not good news,” he answers and my stare takes on a flattened edge. He chuckles again. “But it’s not bad either. There’s little to be done at current. With the council aware, cities shouldn’t be taken by surprise should anything emerge from the veil.”
I suppose that’s the best we can do for now.
Until Vaelyn does his godly duties.
“It’s not a matter ofshould,” I reply, my tone firm. “It’s a matter ofwhen.”
Creatures slipping through the veil is bound to happen.
If they haven’t already.
Ryc nods. “Agreed. I’ve already set the order to increase guard in and around Ollora, and I’ll be visiting other strongholds across Erus.”
To ensure the only tear lies over Ollora.
For now.
It’s a logical next step for a Sovereign King. Especially one given the ability to peer into the veil.
“And will you be gone long?” I ask, not without selfish convictions.
Ryc smiles. “No, little death,” he answers. “It’s nothing that can’t be handled over the course of a few days. I’ll be in and out of Ollora. Not much different than typical day to day.”
I know it’s meant to be a comforting answer.
One meant to put my mind at ease.
But I know better than to be lulled into believing that. In his typical day to day, there’s little to no risk of encountering Death Knights, or wraiths, or—
“Rowen did ask about our stance,” he interrupts my spiraling thoughts. “Have you given it further thought?”
Rowen and his request to help him keep his damn throne.
Were it possible to shove it down his throat, I might be inclined to do that. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have to worry about standing before the council anytime soon.
The thoughts leave me battling bitterness, and I fight not to wear them on my face.
“I have,” I answer, managing a much less bitter tone. “And I’ve come to the conclusion Rowen best serves us if he keeps his throne.”
Surprise flashes across Ryc’s face as his brows raise.
