“Thank you, Lord Prince.”
His brow furrowed suddenly, and for a moment I panicked, unsure what I’d done wrong.
But he said quietly, “Lady Isca, you are here to save my kingdom. For that, you shall call me Nisien. Not my title.”
“Very well. Lor—” I caught myself and forced a smile onto my face. “Nisien.”
Nisien’s grin was like sunlight flashing off a blade—so bright it was almost blinding. That sharp glint promised a special type of risk. I mirrored his smile, though my lips already felt strained from the unfamiliar action. Charm was currency in his world, and I’d spent a lifetime counting pennies instead of smiling.
I glanced at him sidelong. “Nisien, is your brother in residence? I assume a prince has many duties outside his castle.”
“Oh, he’s here,” he said, chuckling. “Unfortunately, today has been one of his bad days, so we may need to delay your formal greeting with him.”
“Bad days?”
“It will all become clear to you shortly.” He hesitated. “But I assure you, you are in no danger. I personally guarantee your safety.”
That only made my anxiety worse.
From a distance, I hadn’t noticed the spots of crumbling mortar in places around the castle. There was even a gaping hole in the roof of one wing. Ivy strangled one tower, and the wind whistled through broken embrasures atop the battlements. Outward signs of the state of the kingdom?
When we reached the steps of the castle, stableboys rushed forward to take our reins. I was so distracted by talking with Nisien that I swung my numb leg over to dismount.
I instantly regretted my hasty movement. With the pressure released, my legs screamed from the pain of riding for so long. The ground spun beneath me. I tried to slide down gently, but my unresponsive foot caught in the stirrup.
Before I could react, Nisien appeared beneath me, his sudden presence a shock. With a strong grip, his hands found my waist, pulling me effortlessly down so I could land on my feet.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured. His hands were warm through the layers of my riding cloak. His magic, his touch, pulsated against my skin like a slow heartbeat.
Barely feeling the ground beneath my feet, I stared up at him, breath caught somewhere between embarrassment and a thrilling, unfamiliar excitement. I could hardly remember what I’d been thinking about a moment before. He steadied me, holding me until the world stopped spinning.
Before I could thank him, a reverberating crash echoed from inside the keep. I instantly ducked, heart suddenly racing, shielding my face with my arm. But Nisien barely reacted at all.
It sounded like an entire tree had been split in half.
A pulse of dark magic followed, rolling out from the castle like an aftershock. Its prickling claws against my skin were fierce, chaotic, and wild. And strangely familiar…
Nisien’s expression dimmed, but his tone remained steady. “Prince Emrys,” he said simply.
Emrys.
I’d already guessed that the other prince was the volatile one, but this was confirmation. I followed half a step behind Nisien in silence. He was so calm—too calm—after the disordered violent energy I’d just felt.
“I hope you’ll find things comfortable, if a bit rustic compared to the fortress at Caervorn,” Nisien said, pushing open a towering door that groaned on ancient hinges. “We’re good hosts. Or, I should say, I’m an excellent host.”
He chuckled as my heart hammered in my chest harder than I would’ve liked. I followed him inside on stiff legs. Nisien had guaranteed my safety, yet the magic I’d felt was hostile—not something I was used to remaining close to.
The grand entry was surprisingly bright, thanks to the light-colored stone. An iron candelabra hung from the ceiling, and small torches illuminated the side walls. Between them hung tapestries showcasing military victories and other displays of the kingdom’s agricultural success.
The hall beyond the spiral stairway was dim, lit only by a single guttering torch on the far wall. The magic I’d felt had come from that direction.
And leaning against a stone pillar, half-swallowed by shadow like some ancient sculpture come to life, washim.
Every ounce of blood drained from my face as recognition struck with the force of lightning. The dark, haunting stranger whose eyes had burned into mine, who’d been there after three men had attempted to attack my mother, whose overwhelming grief had almost brought me to my knees in the market, wasn’t the common aristocrat I’d thought him.
He was Emrys ap Euros, the volatile twin I’d been warned about, and the crown prince of Darreth.
Breathe, Isca. Breathe.
