When he’d become a near shell of himself.
When he’d allowedonlyIzill and Alaris to come to his rooms—not even a member of his aerie, for he couldn’t face them.
Both servant and healer spoke to him as if he were anomagegrunt soldier, instead of the Crown Prince.
He paid it no mind. They gave him a sense of normalcy, when most either saluted or averted their gaze.
“Come on,” Izill said. “No pouting.”
He groaned as she tossed the crimson cloak at him next, and a mask of vibrant yellows and oranges. It could have been made from fire itself, as if Vivorr’s hands had woven it.
Most would think it lovely.
Arawn had never seen anything so outlandish.
“I’ll be a beacon,” he said. “As bright as magefire, Izill. Must I attend?”
She wasn’t his mother.
But in her tiny, soldierlike presence, he felt the need to beg her for permission anyways. And in the time that he’d spent without Soraya...dare he even think it...Izill had become a new friend.
One that would hopefullynevertry to kill him.
“Youmust,” Izill said, as she pointed for him to sit in a chair so she could braid back his hair as was customary for a prince. “And youwill.You’ve missed the last few Absolutions while we’ve waited for you to recover.”
She held up two small hands as he opened his mouth to argue.
Recover.
Heal.
These were words for Kinlear, not for him.
And yet the brothers shared them all the same.
“I’m not saying you didn’t deserve the space,” Izill said. “I’m saying enough is enough. You’re to be king soon, but even then, if you won’t go for the parade of it, to be seen as alive and well for the countless Sacred who neednormalcy,Arawn...who willdieon that battlefield come darkness...”
Gods, for such a small woman she had a way of making him feel about as insignificant as a snowflake.
“Then go forher,”Izill said. So soft, it was almost a whisper.
He spun, locking eyes with her.
“Who?”
His face was instantly hot.
“You know exactlywho,” Izill said, as she finished the braid and practically shoved him out of his chair, then stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You’re far too handsome for such a mood. You brood worse than a mother hen, do you know that?”
He lifted a pale brow. “Thank you?”
“It’s not a compliment.” She swatted him out the door of his own quarters, as if she owned the place. “And don’t pull a fast one, Arawn,and head to the kitchens instead. I told them not to make any cinnamon rolls tonight.”
He raised a brow. “You’re a monster.”
“Yes,” she said, crossing her arms. “I am. Now, I suggest you make your way to the training room as swiftly as the wind...or Ezer will be there all alone with Kinlear. I’d gather to think they may already be dancing.”
That was all he needed to hear.
