Around her neck, Alyx shifted, the serpent’s scales cool against her skin. The creature purred, a vibrating comfort against her collarbone. But it did little to settle the storm raging in her mind.
What manner of trap were the witches planning?
“We are not suggesting you leave him, Your Majesty,” Duchess Edith murmured, her tone apologetic. Leaning forward, her gaze lowered to the map engraved into the very stone of the table. “But we cannot blindly comb every hill and grove of the midlands hunting for His Highness—”
“His Majesty,” Seraphina absentmindedly corrected, still pacing, still thinking. “My husband is the King of Drakmor.”
Her godmother cleared her throat. “Yes, Your Majesty. But perhaps if wewereto strike Goldreach first, we might be able to flush out the witches holding His Majesty hostage.”
Wulfston huffed out a breath and looked toward the duchess, the green eyes shining from behind his strange varhound mask, a mirror of his mother’s. “We might also simply expose our flanks to the Arathian forces in Arlund.”
Seraphina’s steps momentarily slowed as she found herself staring at her cousin, tracing the shape of his mask with her eyes before she swallowed hard and pried her gaze away. She had heard rumors that he had been mutilated some years ago in a dire bear attack. Now, he was never seen in public without that mask.
Duke Percival lifted his voice to suggest, “Have we considered that the witches might have taken His Majesty to Goldreach? AsLord Slade says, we do not know exactly where they are holding him.”
“We can assault Goldreach from both the west and the east,” Knox added at the tail end of his father’s words. “Ground troops hammering the western walls. Navy assaulting the harbor to the east. We hit hard and squeeze them out before any Arathian forces in Arlund can even retaliate.”
Cyneric cocked his eyebrow. “Assault the harbor? With what ships?”
Seraphina stopped her pacing. “Enough!” Her gaze cut across the room toward those who were most silent—Dame Florence, Reyla, and the Sons. “What do you all think?”
Calix finally spoke, but only to snap, “I think we should respect His Majesty’s wishes and leave him where he is, wherever that may be.”
Reyla scratched out a quick message on her slate and flipped it around:SaveAldric.
Dame Florence shrugged, heaving out a sigh. “I just find it all strange that the witches want to use him to lure you into a trap, and yet they haven’t made it clear to us exactly where they are keeping him. If they want you to come to a particular place, why have they not told you where that place is?”
Seraphina nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She had been thinking the exact same thing. What was the point in laying a trap and yet keeping the location secret?
Leif edged a little closer to the table and suggested, “Soot could find him.”
“Soot?” Wulfston echoed, clearly confused.
The eldest Son nodded and patted his jerkin. “The Crow’s usuru.”
Cyneric pinched the bridge of his nose. “My forces have already marched halfway across the kingdom. I amnotgoing to ask them to now follow anusuruwhile we simplyhopeit will lead us to where we need to go.”
Seraphina pressed her fingers to her temples. A low throb pulsed behind her eyes, each beat a reminder that they were wasting precious time she did not have. Round and round they went with no plan to show for it.
She just needed time to think. Time to breathe without the weight of a dozen stares pressing on her back—
Wooooo-ooooo.
The sound of a horn cut through the thick stone walls, muffled but unmistakable. Two long blasts. One short.
Seraphina froze. The room went silent, save for the panting breaths of the varhounds beneath the table.
Duke Percival threw his hands up into the air, scowling at the door. “Is all of Elmoria coming to visit the Dawnspire this week?”
“Apparently so,” Seraphina muttered. Just what she needed—one more interruption, one moreproblemfor her to have to deal with when she had not even had a chance to solve the latest.
With a sharp wave of her hand, she bit out, “We will reconvene tomorrow,” and strode for the door. At least this time she knew it would not be Aldric.
“Your Majesty, wait!” Duchess Edith called, but she was already in the corridor.
She marched through the twisting halls of the Dawnspire, Alyx snug around her throat, grounding her with each step. By the time she finally reached the signal room, breathless, the feeling that she had already experienced this same moment before swept over her, rendering her momentarily dizzy.
“Do we truly have yet more riders in the pass,” she snapped, her patience frayed to a thread, “or is this simply all a jest now?”
