Even so, he lowered his voice until it was a mere soft growl. “Even at that distance, Calix will still be able to get an arrow through the duke’s skull.”
Chapter thirty-six
Seraphina
Amap of Elmoria sprawled across her desk, the entirety of her island kingdom captured on parchment—from the frozen wilds of Varoa in the far north to the now-abandoned Lowlands in the south.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on her eyelids. A pending headache stabbed at her right temple. It was getting late. Aldric and Sir Easome had departed the city hours ago. Night had long since fallen.
But still she sat at her desk, tracing the path they would be taking west about the city while she absentmindedly toyed with her wedding ring. As if by merely viewing the lines inked there, she could watch over her Crow in truth.
Where was he now?
Was he…safe?
For a single moment, she wished she had the true gift of foresight like Oracle Tsukiko rather than simply being cursed with a single vision playing on repeat. At least then she wouldknow.
The candle holding one corner of her map flat sputtered as the door to her study swung open. Seraphina jerked upright from her slumped position.
From the doorway, her godmother offered a small smile. In her hands, she carried a tray bearing a pot of tea and two cups. “I thought I would find you here.”
Seraphina swallowed down a yawn and rubbed at her eyes. “You should be asleep,” she complained on a murmur, trying to keep from slurring the words.
Duchess Edith’s smile turned wry as she swept into the room, pushing the door closed behind her with her hip. “As should you, darling. Which is why I have chamomile tea right here. It always puts you right to sleep.”
Resting the tea tray on the edge of the desk, the duchess busied herself with rolling up the map, no doubt to make more room for their drinks.
Seraphina was too tired to protest beyond a mere, “I was looking at that.”
Her godmother slanted her a look. “Staring at that map will not make the Baron of Crestley’s ships arrive in Goldreach any sooner. Besides, there will be plenty of time to obsess over troop movements tomorrow.Afteryou have slept.”
Settling deeper in her chair, Seraphina remained quiet, holding her tongue. There was no need to reveal to the duchess that, for once, she hadn’t been fussing about justwhereLord Tiberius’s ships were. It took time to sail such a large fleet around the southern tip of Elmoria, after all.
This time, it was her Crow who held all her concern. Even though he was probably the last person in all Elmoria who needed it. He was a grown man—a capable man—and a seasoned warrior besides. He could handle himself out there, in the dark and the cold.
The cold.
Without warning, her mind reeled backward. She was suddenly back in the cathedral on their wedding day, his mouth crushed to hers, cold sweeping through her veins. That oily voice echoing through her thoughts once more.
“You cannot save him, child. He is already mine—”
“Sera?”
Seraphina blinked once and focused her attention back on her godmother, who still stood before her, slowly stirring a cube of sugar into each cup of tea. By the light of the fire crackling warmly in the hearth, it was impossible to miss the worry pinching the corners of the older woman’s eyes.
Setting aside her teaspoon, Duchess Edith claimed one of the chairs before the desk and handed Seraphina a cup. “Was it the vision again?” she softly asked, sneaking a glance toward the closed door as though afraid of them being overheard.
Seraphina shook her head and cradled the teacup within her hands, letting it warm her palms. “No. It’s…” She swallowed hard. She had yet to tell her godmother about the voice that had been plaguing her. First at the wedding. Then in her dream. She had toldno oneabout it.
No one save for Aldric.
The man probably thought her mad. Visions sent from the Lord were one thing.
Dark voices were something else entirely.
Seraphina pinned a smile to her lips—a false, brittle smile. “Nothing,” she lied, blowing across the steaming surface of her tea before hazarding a sip. Light, floral, sweet. Her godmother always made the most perfect cup of tea.
Duchess Edith frowned, clearly not convinced. And yet she didn’t pursue the matter further. “Did Percy speak with you?” she asked instead, changing the subject.
