I eyed the mantle of power pouring off him, my heartsinking. Which you totally look like right now, so can you cool it with the magic stuff?
“And ask her to do something rulers rarely do—trust you with a power that threatens her reign.”
Rooke’s eyes flicked toward the Citadelle high above us. “You think she’ll refuse.”
“I think she’ll weigh the danger against the safety of her people.” I’d been her blade for too long to pretend I didn’t know how keenly my queen assessed risk. “And you—” I nodded toward the faint aura surrounding him. “—are an unknown.”
His expression shuttered. “The Triune isn’t.”
“No,” I admitted. “It’s legend with a history rooted in fear and superstition. And your bloodline, Kaden…” I took a breath that tasted sour and hopeless. “With your lineage, she will see you as a rival to the throne. I know her father would have. The royal court will. Even I did…at first.”
The wind rose, snapping my cloak and tangling it around my legs.
But…I took another longing sniff of fresh-baked bread.
Our moment of judgement was hours away.
And even with the cutting wind, even with a verdict looming over our heads, all I could see was Kaden. Black waves framing his too-handsome face. His dense petrichor scent that made me think of rain, the way his fingers were woven between my own, his thumb painting circles on the inside of my wrist.
Every moment we spent together felt like a gift, and whatever came after…
Whatever came after, I would face, like I’d faced every other trial in my life.
With my chin raised high and a big fuck you in my scarred-over heart, so no one could really hurt me. Becauseif I lost my position as commander, if I lost Anaria’s friendship over standing up for what was right…
I already felt something inside of me breaking, because I’d already lost so much, and being cut out of the Valarian royal court—as stupid as that sounded in my own head—might just finish the job.
But I would shelter the others from the fallout as much as I could, because in the end, this was my choice.
My failure.
With that resolved, I let some of my worry be carried away by the mountain’s wind, and after I bought the most delicious-looking croissant I’d ever seen, I tugged my hood down over my face and let Kaden wrap my fingers up into the warmth of his big, warm hand.
“Keep your hood up and come with me, I want to show you something.”
57
ROOKE
Tempeste hit me like a memory I could finally touch.
Taste—like this city was ripe with possibility.
The spot Lyrae chose to land us smelled of baked bread. Of iron and fire drifting up from a forge somewhere below us, and the clean bite of freshly fallen snow threading through the narrow streets from the mountain above.
Mount Sylvan, rising above us like a white-dusted guardian, watched over a broken city recently pieced back together. New masonry and mortar gleamed like pale scars amongst ancient beige stone, a few scorch marks still carved across the facades of old shops—wounds from the war, or some recent battle.
“It’s right down here. I can hear them.”
As she eagerly tugged me along, Lyrae’s hand felt so delicate in mine, bones shifting beneath my clumsy fingers as she led me down a broad stairway, the steps worn smooth by generations. Even here, she moved like she was still on the battlefield—shoulders squared, stride sure, blue eyes scanning every dark corner.
Then a throng of bundled-up children raced past us, boots pounding on the cobblestones,shrieking with laughter, waving sticks, chasing a hoop made from woven reeds. One of them collided straight into Lyrae’s legs, skidded, and stared up at us both with wide eyes.
Lyrae just brushed her fingers over the girl’s shoulder, gentle and kind. “If you use the other end of your stick, you’ll have a better chance of stealing the hoop away.” She flipped the stick around, then pressed it back between fat, chubby fingers. “There. Now it will be easier to push, with the flat end. Go—show them you’re quick and clever.”
The child grinned, missing a front tooth, and darted away, chasing after the others.
Lyrae glanced at me, her gaze soft and searching beneath the shadow of her hood. “This is what I wanted,” she explained. “Even at dusk, they can play without fear, and their parents need not worry where they are, or if they are safe. Because they are watched over.”
