He took the tincture, I realized.That’s why he’s relatively calm.
Warmth eased the tightness anxiety had wrought in my chest. He had listened. He had trusted me. Not completely, but enough to try.
Beside him sat Prince Owain, his spine a tower of discipline. His chestnut hair had been tied back, and his shoulders squared with martial elegance. But it was his smile that landed first.
“Lady Isca,” he greeted, warming the cold emanating from Emrys, “you are radiant this evening. I have looked forward to your company since the moment I arrived.”
Emrys’s gaze shot his way with a scowl, if only for a moment, before he schooled himself back to complacency.
I dipped my head in greeting, hoping the flush rising in my face didn’t show too strongly against my pale cheeks and dark gown. “Prince Owain. Prince Emrys.”
Both men rose as I approached. They waited until I’d taken my seat before resuming theirs. The motion was so smooth, so practiced, that I felt like I’d slipped into some other woman’s life—one far more important than I’d ever been.
I kept my posture straight, mimicking Owain. The muscles around my spine screamed in protest.
Emrys only nodded, jaw tight, saying nothing in greeting, though I could almost feel him simmering.
The meal was laid before us in a quiet ceremony by gloved servants wielding polished silver and gem-encrusted goblets. Bowls were filled with root vegetables braised with fragrant herbs, lamb glazed in wine, and warm bread braided with rosemary from the gardens.
This was no friendly meal like the one I’d shared with Nisien or those with the rowdy warriors in the great hall. This was…performative, a throne room with cutlery.
Owain turned to me, all charm and thoughtful poise. “Have you had the opportunity to learn anything of Larethia, Lady Isca?”
“A little,” I said. “Only what books can offer. More orchards and wineries than Darreth, less pastureland.”
He chuckled softly. “Those are the most important pieces of our economy, but not parts I get to experience much firsthand, unfortunately.”
I raised a brow in question.
Emrys’s eyes flicked from Owain to me, narrowing slightly. When Owain smiled at me again, that same stalking, claws-on-the-bare-ground darkness flickered across Emrys’s gaze.
Owain went on, not noticing or ignoring the look he received from Emrys. “I am the second son, which means I enjoy a peculiar kind of freedom to travel. But my duties keep me occupied outside our green spaces. I’m also the head of our military…which, coincidentally, is what brings me south.”
He turned his attention to Emrys, who was stolidly ignoring him again under the guise of eating.
“Military affairs?” I asked. A nervous flutter stirred in my stomach.
“Yes,” he said, glancing toward Emrys as though testing the air once again. “Gelida is as much of a problem for us as it is for Darreth. My family are mages as well, which brings Gelida’s ire. Though…we don’t have as bloody a history with them as Darreth, and our magical bloodline is known for different…reasons than the Euros twins.”
I had heard that there was rising anti-mage sentiment in Gelida. The way he said it…what kind of magic was passed through his bloodline? I opened my mouth then thought better of it. There were too many layers of politics beneath that single sentence.
Owain’s gaze lingered on me. “And you, Lady Isca, what is your role with the Mage Assembly?”
To be used.
But I couldn’t linger on that, not now. The job I actually wanted to perform was waiting for an answer. I’d found I quite enjoyed my first steps into diplomacy.
“I was sent due to my abilities, Your Highness,” I said carefully. I stole my own glance at Emrys. His gaze, dark and unreadable, met mine across the table. Then he gave the faintest nod.
“I am an empath,” I said, turning back to Owain. “I’ve been sent to assist the princes with matters of state so that we might strengthen Darreth together.”
“What you mean is that you’ve been sent to help him.” Owain nonchalantly pointed his thumb at Emrys.
I gave a barely perceptible nod, unwilling to affirm or deny it aloud.
Emrys didn’t as much as shift in his chair, but his eyes smoldered as he looked at me. He wasn’t furious that Owain had asked that, thank the gods. But he had that same haunted look he’d given me in the market after our magic touched for the first time. Except now it was charged with a different type of hunger than the abundance the table could offer.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part.
