“Who knows about this?” Gronwen presses.
“Our friends and the people in this room,” Zadyn responds.
I finally locate my voice. “Sorscha doesn’t know yet. We have to tell her. She should be here for this.”
“We tell no one else until we’ve agreed on a course of action.”
I cock my head at the finality in his voice. “You want to keep his death a secret? From his own daughter?”
“Until the right time, yes.”
“I think that’s up to the Hand, don’t you agree?”
Gronwen bristles at my challenge, then gives me a sympathetic smile.
“I’ve been around for the changing of kings before. I’ve seen enough to know that information like this is delicate. In the absence of a ruler, it is easy for things to fall apart, for empires to crumble. I will not allow my friend’s legacy to collapse due to such a grave oversight. Emotions have no place inside this room. If you cannot accept that, Dragon Rider, then by all means, you are dismissed.”
I open my mouth, and then close it. I’ve never liked this male—never trusted this male. But I can feel the sincerity of his words, read the underlying twinge of pain in his eyes that he’s trying very hard to repress.
So I sit down and shut up.
He inhales slowly, turning to pace around the room. Broken glass crunches beneath his boots.
“In his absence, the king has named the current Hand, Jace Fallyn, as his regent.”
Jace blinks up at him. His eyes are glassy and far-off, though I haven’t seen so much as a tear from him.
“But Sorscha is his heir. She’s of age.”
“The princess is not capable of running this kingdom alone. It was a decision we discussed at length. You are to rule in his late majesty’s stead until her coronation.”
Jace shakes his head. “I…I can’t. I can’t be king.”
“Kingregent. Until you wed the princess. Then you will ascend as king consort.” Going off Jace’s horrified expression, Gronwen softens his voice. “This was the plan all along.”
I look at Jace. The hard lines of his face, the crease between his brows, the clenched fists that have seen more battle and bloodshed than I could ever fathom.
He is a warrior. And right now, he is lost. Afraid.
“You can do this.” Jace’s molten gaze lifts to mine. “He trained you for this. He chose you.”
What if he chose wrong?Jace’s expression says.
I shake my head, wishing I could jump across the table and shake away all of his doubt. Tell him that he’s perfect and that choosing him could never be wrong—could never be a mistake.
He turns his tormented eyes to Gronwen and nods.
“Then that’s settled.”
“But I’m not keeping Derek’s death from Sorscha. He’s her father. She deserves to know.”
“And the public?”
Jace pitches him a dark look.
“If word spreads that the attack was successful and that the king perished at enemy hands…well, you can see how the optics are less than desirable.”
“What would you have people believe?”
