I glance out the window again, reimagining Jax in the forge. This time, I wish myself into the vision. If I were there, I’d be tucking the hair out of his face while he hammered a hot shoe onto a hoof. I’d be listening to the quiet rumble of his voice as he murmured to an uneasy horse. Sudden longing swells in my chest.
But then the fantasy fractures. I imagine him frowning. Smacking my hand away. Jerking back, looking confused. Or, worse, scoffing.
All my emotion goes cold, and I look away from the window.
Because for all my longing, something between us has changed. Since the moment I returned from Syhl Shallow, everything has been different.
The worst part is that I’m not entirely sure what happened— though I’m fairly certain that whatever it is, it’s my fault. I never should’ve been gone so long, and I should’ve realized it would alter things between us. But I spent so long trying to figure out a way to get back, expecting to find Jax desperate for my arrival. Instead, I arrived to discover that Jax was able to forge a path for himself here, learning the language and settling into his new role and making friends. He’s always been a little defiant, a little cavalier, but while I was gone, that shifted into something new. Like confidence. Or conviction. Either way, the tense, apprehensive young man I met in Briarlock is gone.
I should be glad . . . and I am. I want him to be happy. I didn’twanthim to be longing and desperate and lonely.
But I suddenly feel like an outsider. Like I’m intruding. It’s left me completely unmoored. Untethered.
And maybe a little jealous.
As I gaze out the window, the sun begins to sink toward the trees, making shadows lengthen. The dinner bells will ring soon, and Jax will be heading across the fields with his friends. He goes shooting almost every night, and I’ve been longing to join them since I got back.
If I’d even be welcome.
The instant I have the thought, I shove it away. It doesn’t even matter. My own duties keep getting in the way regardless. I was in Hutchins Forge two days ago, I just got back from Little Cross this morning, and if Prince Rhen is arguing about Grey’s reluctance torule, I’m sure I’ll be heading somewhere new tonight.
When we returned from Syhl Shallow, I stupidly thought I might get a brief reprieve from my duties.
Clearly, I thought wrong.
“Tycho.”
I snap my head around. They’re both looking at me now.
Silver hell.“Forgive me,” I say.
Prince Rhen drags his hand across his jaw. “I asked if you’ve had any contact from the scraver Nakiis.”
My ever- present frown deepens, and a shard of ice seems to lodge in my chest. The last time I heard from Nakiis, he was pinning me to the ground, refusing to allow me to assist the king. Xovaar had attacked, and Nakiis was worried he’d kill me, too.
When I convinced him to let me go, I hoped he’d follow. I hoped he’dhelp.
He didn’t. And I haven’t seen him since.
I’ve started to wonder if he’s dead.
After the way he tried to stop me, there’s a part of me that wouldn’t quite mind.
“No,” I say. “Nothing.”
“Good,” says Rhen. “Perhaps the scravers have gone to ground.”
I don’t think we’re that lucky. I remember how viciously Xovaar tried to kill Grey, how violently the other scravers fought on the training fields at the Crystal Palace. When the battle was done, blood and bodies were everywhere.
“The scravers believe that magesmiths stole their magic,” I say.“Xovaar wants it back— and the only way to get it is to kill us off. If the scravers have gone to ground, they won’t stay there long.”
The prince makes another note on his paper, spending a long moment in consideration. His gaze flicks back to the maps spread across the table, and he leans forward, gesturing toward some northern cities. “We’re still hearing talk about the ‘monster’ returning to Emberfall. Perhaps the scravers are stoking these fears to help drive out the magesmiths. You should ride north to Gaulter to inquire about treasonous notes from the Truthbringers— or scraver attacks. Perhaps these skirmishes are related. They have a tourney there, yes? You could learn quite a bit.”
I have to keep myself from sighing. Gaulter is a two- and- a- half- day ride from here— and I didn’t exactly leave their tourney on good terms. I’m the one who broke their prized fighter— Nakiis— out of a cage.
But I’m not going to refuse a direct order. Not while the king is sitting there looking ready to set the world on fire. “Yes, Your Highness.”
At that, Grey actually looks up. “No. Gaulter is too far. If the scravers do resurface, your magic will make you a target.”
