“Hmm. I’m going to ask you again: what do you see when you look at me?”
“I see a…” He frowns, looking over me from my head to my toes, from my braid down the lines of my dress to my ankles. Sweat breaks out on his forehead. “I don’t have the words.”
I narrow my eyes and spit the order. “Try!”
He jolts like I punched him. “I see a storm of power and light. I see burning and chaos. I see a girl on a mountain. The wind’s beating her, lightning’s striking, claws are ripping, but she’s fighting back. I see death and life. The only safe place is beside her. Besideyou.”
He thumps the armrest. Shakes his head. Grips his heartstone so hard I’m concerned he might break it. He’s breathing way too hard. “I see my death. And I don’t know if you’re the one killing me or saving me.”
My lips part. I almost fly out of my chair. I itch for the steel so close to my thigh. “I should kill you for what you did.”
“Yes.” He wipes the sweat from his eyes, but doesn’t say anything else.
I stare at the floor for a long time. “I’m going to tell you what to do but it’s up to you whether you do it.”
He waits.
“Leave this place and never look back. Leave your House and all its trappings. Find a female who can bear to love you, build her a house, and give her children who will miss you when you die. But whatever you do…” I lift my eyes to his. “Do not cross paths with me again.”
He nods.
“Thank you, Gwynn. For telling me the truth.”
He’s the slowest to get up. He takes a knee, bows, and pauses on the floor. “You won’t see me again, Princess.”
Then he rises and strides from the room.
The second-last male enters the room. This time it’s the one who cornered Sebastian. If Rhydian Valor is a gorilla, this male is an ox, thick and bullish. Unlike the male before him, he saunters into the room, his heartstone held casually in his hand. He drops into the chair.
Ice drips from my tongue. “You forgot to bow.”
“Why should I bow to—”
The magic takes hold. His head snaps up so fast it sounds like a breaking log. “I should have bowed.”
“Hmm.”
He’s from a major House but not one that’s represented on the Elven Command, which means it’s likely he’s been raised with all the privilege and none of the responsibility.
I tap my fingers across my knee. “Explain to me why you didn’t bow.”
“The Princess’s job is to serve. She’s the one who should be bowing.”
“Who taught you that rubbish?”
“My father.”
“And who is your father?”
“Phillip of the House of Faith.”
I file that name away. “Is he a good father?”
“No, he’s a drunk. He beats the servants and treats my mother badly.” His eyes widen. Shame turns his face red.
“Then why do you believe a word he says?”
“I…” Now he’s fighting the magic. His knee bounces up and down, jiggling. He fidgets with the heartstone. “Because he’s my father.”
