For a moment, I let my thoughts drift back to Emrys’s sharp intake of breath in the training yard as my fingers first touched his back. I’d only meant to help, but then he’d leaned into the touch and I’d abruptly forgotten any reason tostop.
I could twist that moment into what Maeron wanted. Tell him that Emrys had only agreed to send mages to aid Larethia after I’d practically begged him while gripping his arm. And yet…my stomach turned at the thought.
He wasn’t the monster the Assembly thought him. The darkness he carried wasn’t one I could exploit without losing a piece of myself in the process. And he didn’t know that I’d been sent to betray him—even if I’d rather risk my own safety than hurt him more than he was already suffering.
My hand returned to the quill. I steeled myself and wrote fiercely of alliances, of raiders deterred, of the upcoming dinner with the nobility that would strengthen ties. I crafted my words with ornate precision, transforming the art of diplomacy into a dazzling display meant to obscure the truths I withheld from them. Half-truths and lies by omission were my rebellion written in careful, bloodless strokes. If I gave the Assembly enough, maybe they wouldn’t see my silent defiance.
When I finished, I sanded the page, sealed it, and pushed it away with more force than necessary. My hand ached and my heart might not recover from my petty insubordination until Darreth only had one king.
I leaned back, letting my gaze drift across the shelves—and stilled. A familiar scroll was sticking out of the shelves too far for it to be anything but purposeful. My curiosity got the better of me. I rose, spreading it wide across the desk.
The architecture plans.
Emrys had likely returned it during one of his late-night brooding forays here. I remembered standing here weeks ago, speaking with Emrys for the first time. How startled he’d looked that I’d asked after Tir Darreth’s walls and not its legends. His gaze had warmed, like the subtle change in the air before a spring shower, as though I’d done something extraordinary in asking after his home’s stability.
My fingers traced the western glacis, the place we’d talked about during our first meeting. I frowned. On second glance, the buttresses were generous everywhere else, but there was a gap in the fortress’s stability.
Caring was dangerous. But I couldn’t stop.
I flattened my palm on the parchment. With the way the Assembly thought, they’d see nothing but crumbling defenses and exploitable weakness. But I… I wanted to see it for myself. To know why the earth there sagged, to understand the fortress that had shaped these princes into the men they were today.
Not for the Assembly, and not even for their pride—but for me. For the small, stubborn part of me that refused to let my work here be only what Chancellor Maeron demanded.
I chose loyalty to those who’d shown true care for me, not to the knife at my throat.
The urge to march straight out to the western glacis nearly pulled me from the room. I wanted to see the flaw with my own eyes, to feel the earth beneath my boots and decide for myself what danger truly lurked there.
But the sun was already sinking, and I still had to prepare for dinner with Darreth's most powerful bannermen—a political battlefield of its own. Tonight, I needed to play the dutiful diplomat. The foundations would have to wait until after the summer festivities.
I re-rolled the scroll and placed it back in its cubby and tucked my sealed report in my pocket to go out with the next caravan. My flowery words would probably be enough to hold the chancellor off for another twoweeks—or at least force him to be forthright about his demands in the next letter he sent.
I’d chosen my side, chosen my defiance. Now, only time would tell if I would live to regret it or die an ineffective rebel.
Chapter 27
Isca
True to form, Catrin turned my preparation for the noble dinner into a grand production. She changed my gowns three times before settling on an emerald-green one with a plunging neckline and golden embroidery in the pattern of roses across the bust and waist.
“Do you trust me?” Catrin asked hesitantly.
“…Yes. Why?” Never, in the history of humanity, had that question presaged anything but disaster.
“You should wear your hair down tonight.”
My eyebrows shot up. Only teenagers and little girls wore their hair down in public in Caervorn. But I hadn’t exactly met any noblewomen since arriving in Darreth, so maybe she was pointing me in the right direction.
“Are you sure?” Tremors of nervous energy were pulsing off Catrin.
She hesitated, fingers twitching around a pin. “We could braid some of the front to keep it out of your face. They wouldn’t notice your lack of jewelry this way. How does that sound?”
“Okay…” Her argument about my lack of ornate jewelry made sense. Plus, she knew far more about this kingdom than I did—and she hadn’t steered me wrong so far.
Catrin gave me a bright smile as she tucked the last strand behind my ear. But as I followed her through the winding halls back to the formal dining room, her nerves followed the whole way.
She stopped just short of the carved double doors and turned. “They brought in extra staff. Tonight is more serious, but you’re ready for this. You’ve met Lord Gordot, so just imagine five more of him.”
The mental picture of six Lord Gordot’s would’ve been funny if I wasn’t so nervous.WasI ready for this? It was too late for second thoughts.
