I shake my head. “That won’t be happening, Ariadne. It can’t happen.”
She stops dancing. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not here to lead a resistance. I don’t plan to challenge my brother. I’m happy to help Bolvet and ask my brother to show you mercy, but this is his kingdom now. My only priority is to build a home for my mate and keep her safe. I can’t get involved politically.”
Her mouth drops open. “Can’t get involved?” she says too loudly. A few heads turn.
I place a finger over my lips. “Shh.”
“Do you even know what they’ve done? How many of our people they’ve?—”
I spin her around and toward the wall. “Not now. I will speak to you later of this, but not in front of Eloise,” I say through my teeth.
She nods reluctantly. “Out of appreciation for what you’ve done tonight,” she whispers, and then she’s gone.
“What was all that about?” Eloise is behind me. Gods, she’s beautiful, her chin raised in defiance, ready to defend a woman she met only hours ago. Every bit the royalty she was meant to be, despite the lack of title. I refuse to allow her to fall on her blade. Not for me. Not for my lost kingdom.
“Just making arrangements for delivery of the dresses.” I take her hand. “We should go. It’s getting late. The moon is setting, and I don’t wish to travel by rabble beast in full dark.”
“Okay,” she agrees, but the set of her shoulders tells me it’s not the last I’ll hear of it tonight.
We say our goodbyes, and I field a barrage of emotional shows of appreciation as we make our way toward the door. I can’t help but notice there is nothing left of the stag but bones. I’ve fed them for a day. I’ve maybe saved some of them from starvation. But I haven’t helped them. Not really. Not permanently.
I tamp down the shame as we finally make it out the door, my self-loathing taking center stage as I mount Borus. Eloise doesn’t take her eyes off me as she positions herself in the saddle. She waits until we’ve left the village and are well out of earshot to speak again.
“You know it’s true, don’t you? Everything that Warbill told us. That’s why you’re upset. That’s why you wanted to leave this morning without any contact with your brother or the queen. You wanted plausible deniability for what you intended to do today.”
A growl rumbles in my chest. I can’t lie to her. Not when she asks me a direct question. “I didn’t know for sure. Tempest mentioned something that made me suspect things were amiss in the west villages.”
Her eyelids flare wider. “And today confirms your suspicions. You saw the way they were suffering.”
“Yes.”
“Well, what do you plan to do about it? We have to help these people.”
I look up at the setting moon and the castle in the distance. “As soon as I can slip away, I will visit Tempest. We may be able to make a home in Aendor.”
She’s quiet for a long time. “What about Bolvet?”
I sigh. “As I said before, if it’s only pride standing in the way of feeding themselves, they’d be wise to bend the knee.”
She shifts in her saddle. “That can’t be all there is to it. If it were only a matter of pride, I’m sure the villagers would have done so years ago. There must be something more.”
“Yet Warbill didn’t tell you more.”
“No. He seemed guarded, though, as did Ariadne. Maybe they can’t talk about it. Maybe talking about it to the wrong person could be deadly.”
“You are speculating, little bird. I don’t trust my brother or the dark elf at his side, but we haven’t been here long enough to draw conclusions based on what limited information we’ve amassed.”
She huffs, her eyes darting toward the castle and the fields of abundance on either side of us. We pass a group of workers harvesting, hands stained red from the crimson wheat. They look old and thin. These shades are not well cared-for. They glance up at me as we pass, but if they recognize me, they make no indication. Their glazed eyes pass over us, and then they return to their work.
Something is wrong here.
Eloise’s frown intensifies. “I think someone needs to speculate, Damien.”
15
Evening Meal
