Even though there were no courtiers packing the yard this time to see them off.
And Sera…
Sera wasn’t there either.
Leif sucked on his teeth and fed Soot another scrap of meat from where the usuru was tucked beneath the older man’s armor. “Feels a bit strange,” he drawled, “marching to Arlund a second time.”
“But this time in truth,” Kyn corrected.
Calix stroked his mare’s neck, his eyes tracking the soldiers passing by. “At least Wellane’s men look less green.” His half-Kunishi son shot him a look. “What do you think, Your Majesty?”
Aldric grunted. He had no opinion.
Rakon eased closer and asked, “All set, boss?”
It was the closest any of his men had come to fishing for details about what had happened last night. They knew better than to ask questions about his personal affairs.
Even when he had come storming out of Sera’s study and immediately escorted Reyla back to her cottage, disrupting their night of revelry.
“All set,” he growled, tossing Rakon his saddlebags so the big man could strap them to Mourn.
At least Reyla hadn’t noticed anything amiss. She rarely sensed shifts in tone or mood the way others did. Instead, her mind caught different details—details most people missed.
He was glad. The last thing he wanted was for his turmoil to touch her.
Reyla.
A sliver of guilt pricked his heart at the thought of his sister. He hated that he was leaving her. For how long? A few weeks? Months? There was no telling how long the campaign in Arlund might last.
Lifting a hand, he touched the unfamiliar weight of the necklace resting against his chest beneath his brigandine—the golden sun pendant Sera had gifted him on their wedding day.
A flicker of uncertainty stirred in his chest, but even so, he sent up a quiet prayer.
Lord, if you’re out there…please watch over Reyla, too.
The words felt strange leaving him. But there was no harm in praying, he supposed.
Movement stirred on his blind side—a shuffling of feet and hooves. Someone in the distance shouted, “Make way for the queen!”
Setting his jaw, he tapped Mourn’s shoulder to signal to the stallion it was time to mount. He needed to get out of there.
But he knew without looking it was already too late. He couldsenseher there, watching him even before her perfume snaked toward him on the wind, chipping away at his calm. Reminding him of the way she had looked at him last night.
The way she had shouted.
The way she hadn’t so much as flinched when he told her his why.
“Your Majesty,” he heard Kyn greet his wife. “You are looking well today.”
Somewhere deep inside him, that dark beast stirred to life once more—weak though it was. Even now, he couldn’t stand the thought of another man noticing how well his wife looked.
Because he was a fool of the highest order.
“Thank you, Master Kyn,” Sera murmured, sounding distant even though he knew she was right there. “What a kind thing to say.”
And then—another voice. Smooth. Polished. Infuriatingly self-assured. “Yes, Your Majesty,” the Baron of Crestley purred, “that particular shade of blue has always suited you.”
His jaw clenched so hard, he feared he might crack a molar.
