“Thank the Trinity, you’re safe. I heard the screams and feared the worst,” he said.
His eyes scanned her, as if checking for injuries. Why did he care? They hardly knew one another. He’d come looking for her in the woods as well. And even after that, she thought she had him figured out: a wayward prince, tangled up in the wrong crowd seeking a royal marriage, a convenient lie. Because there’d been dozens of suitors before him, she thought he was like all the rest. None of the others had shown any real concern for her, but this was the second time he’d come to her rescue.
“Let him go,” she told her guards.
“No one can approach your majesties. Not until the empress gives us the order to stand down.”
“They’re right. Go with them. I’m satisfied knowing you’re safe.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. It was likely an act, but what if it wasn’t? That didn’t change anything. She’d made a vow, and she swore to keep it.
Guards encircled them and escorted them out. As they passed by Erich, she turned one last time, and he gave her a reassuring smile. Insulated by guards, she couldn’t see the crowd as they pushed through, but she felt their fear, heard the panic in their voices as guards shouted for order. Outside the theater, the guards guided them into one of the many hidden passageways beneath the palace. No one spoke as their footsteps echoed against the stone floor and ceiling, rattling around in her skull. There’d never been a time in her life when they’d needed an emergency escape, but they were being escorted to their underground safe room.
As a girl, her mother had shown her the way there and taught her in case of an emergency, she was to stay calm, follow the guards, wait for news. Mother and Father had been in another box. Had they been escorted ahead of them, or had an assassin crept upon them while attention was on the terrified mob? Fear tightened her throat as they wound through familiar twisting passageways.
There were guards outside the door, and after their escorts exchanged passwords, they let them inside, where Father paced in the dimly lit room. When he saw them, Father pulled Aristea, Mathias, and her into his comforting embrace. Overwhelmed by fear, tears welled in Liane’s eyes, and she fought them back, unwilling to let them fall. If Mother wasn’t here and they’d been taken to the safe room, stars above… her stomach churned.
“Thank the stars above you’re all safe,” he said, squeezing them tighter.
“Where’s Mother?” Aristea asked, voice trembling.
“I’m not sure; she stepped out right before the attack.”
“Where’d she go?” Liane asked.
“The Avatheos summoned her,” Father said.
Those words hung on the air, ripe with portent. Had he foreseen an attack and come to warn them too late? What if… what if…
“Mother has her guards; there’s no need to worry,” Mathias said, squeezing Liane’s shoulder.
“As your older sisters, we should be the ones reassuring you,” Aristea said, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the door.
“You cannot shoulder all the kingdom’s burdens.” He wrapped an arm around Aristea’s shoulder.
But if…
Liane looked over at Heinrich, anger and resentment threatening to boil over inside her. If she’d hesitated and he’d…
Clapping his hands together, Father said, “No need to worry. Your mother single-handedly defeated rebel armies; she’ll be fine.”
With muttered agreement, they huddled around their father. Aristea and Liane sat beside him, and Mathias sat at their back. Heinrich, sitting opposite them, accepted a glass of wine from their servant. When they offered Liane one, she refused, knowing it would sour on her tongue. She couldn’t look at Heinrich without wanting to lash out at him, but she couldn’t let go of her death grip on her dagger either.
Without windows or a clock, time distorted, and minutes stretched on like hours. No one spoke but for curt replies. Though they tried to distract themselves, all their eyes kept drifting back to the entrance. A sick, twisting sensation coiled in her stomach. Mother was competent with a sword and cautious, at times infuriatingly so. But Captain Rosen’s fears of stardust’s transformative abilities kept swirling in her head.
Cyra, please keep her safe, Liane prayed, eyes skyward.
When there was a knock at the door, everyone’s heads turned, and, holding their collective breaths, they waited as guards exchanged passwords. The door creaked open, and Mother stepped in, hair frazzled but otherwise unharmed. They shot to their feet, swarming her as she threw her arms open, welcoming them into her embrace. The smell of her lilac perfume and the soft caress of her hand against her brow soothed Liane’s troubled heart.
“Blessed Starlight,” Mother said and, taking each of them in turn, planted a kiss on their foreheads before Father enfolded her in his embrace. They held one another for a moment, foreheads pressed against one another, neither speaking.
“These are grave times we live in,” the Avatheos said.
Liane had focused on Mother and hadn’t noticed him gliding in after her.
“What have you seen?” Aristea asked. It reminded Liane of how the Avatheos had pressed her to reveal her vision. She resisted the urge to look at him and instead stared at a worn spot on the carpet.
“Dark omens. Tonight, the bones showed me the crown and blood. We’re on the precipice of another struggle for power.”
