A low whine escaped him, and it took all of Kass’s will not to bolt to the doors. He needed to see Saga with his eyes. Needed to know she was safe—never mind that Rov and half a dozen of his Druzhina watched over her.
“You must control your beast,” hissed Elisava.
Gods, but she was right. Today would be a true test of his will.
The door creaked, and Kass’s gaze whipped toward it. He found himself holding his breath as a figure entered. But the air rushed out of him as a long brocade jacket came into view, marking the wearer as the first of the elders.
Over the next several minutes, the empty benches filled withfinely dressed Zagadkians, conversing in low whispers. To Kassandr’s great distaste, Oleg also arrived, sneering as he climbed onto the dais and took the seat to the left of the throne. But any irritation directed Oleg’s way vanished as Kass caught sight of Rov’s twice-broken nose entering the room. And then there she was. His Saga.
Her expression was unreadable, but her air was regal. She wore a gown of brocade gold with heavy, bell-shaped sleeves. A panel of sage green ran down the front, seed pearls stitched along the length of it. Long, beaded earrings dripped from her ears, and a delicate, lacy veil was pinned to her golden tresses.
As beautiful as the Spring Maiden,thought Kassandr, his beast stilling at the sight of her.
The room quieted, all turning to watch the resplendent woman making her way to the front of the room. Rov got her settled on a bench at the front—a seat of honor reserved for the most esteemed of guests.
“My thanks,” murmured Kass, unable to tear his eyes away from Saga. “You did well, Elisava.”
It was Elisava who’d ensured Saga was suitably attired for this meeting. They’d been holed up in Saga’s chambers for many hours this morning, and the result exceeded his already high expectations.
Elisava merely scoffed. “Always, you underestimate me, brother.”
Kass opened his mouth for a sharp reply, but his father entered the chambers and a hush fell over the room. Wearing golden ceremonial robes, the high prince leaned on his staff as he walked along the aisle toward the dais. As he neared, Kassandr could not ignore the dark circles beneath his father’s eyes.
Kass had a moment of regret.He’ddone this—had disobeyed his father by boarding that ship to Íseldur. Had brought danger to their doorstep when he’d returned with Saga. But his remorse was fleeting. That knowing feeling deep inside him reassured Kass he had not erred. Honor had demanded he discover Nostislav’s fate, and that he ensure Saga Volsik’s safety.
And if he were to trust in the thing called fate, then perhaps ithad all come to this. Long had Kassandr known that Zagadka must modernize and gain allies if they wished to avoid colonization by the Urkans. And long had his father been resistant to the idea. Perhaps it had always been leading to this, to force his father into action.
Kassandr itched to offer his father a steadying arm as he climbed the dais steps, but he knew this would be perceived as an insult, and so he merely watched as he struggled with his staff. At last, the high prince reached his throne. Lowered himself onto it.
“We are here,” said the high prince unfalteringly, “to discuss what must be done.” He paused. “The oracle told me many interesting things, but I fear I can no longer trust in her word.”
Unease rippled down Kassandr’s spine, shock spreading on the nobles’ faces.
“It was the oracle who advised we unite with the clans beyond the river.” The high prince’s tone now had a bite to it. “Theoraclewho proclaimed that he who rides the great winged horse will usher in a new era of peace. Because of this, Radomir is dead. Zagadka’s heir stolen.”
An elder on the front bench nodded his shaggy head, and Kassandr’s stomach gave a queasy lurch.
“Instead, I have consulted with my elder councilors. And after much talk, we have come to a sensible agreement.”
Kassandr’s heart thrashed in his chest, his beast’s hackles rising in anticipation. But a golden goddess rose, and the room collectively gasped. Her veil gleamed in the morning light as Saga kept her head bowed low in true Zagadkian style.
“Yes?” said the high prince in displeased Zagadkian. And yet Kassandr saw the faintest traces of curiosity in his expression. “What is it, Lady Saga?”
The high prince turned to Kassandr, waiting for him to interpret, but there was no need. To say Saga had an aptitude for languages was an understatement. Her mind was astonishing, her determination ruthless. She’d practiced with Kassandr, and when he had duties to attend, she continued with Elisava. And whenElisava had retreated for the night, she’d dragged Rovgolod in for yet more lessons.
“May I speak to room?” Saga asked in Zagadkian, stirring another flurry of whispers.
Her pronunciation was imperfect, but Kassandr’s beast raised its head and howled. The high prince lifted a hand, quelling the crowd’s whispers.
“You have learned some Zagadkian.” There was no mistaking the note of wonder in the high prince’s voice. He relented with a weary sigh. “You may speak your piece.”
Saga’s demure smile was one Kassandr had seen a hundred times, and the sight of it made him eager. Because this was a smile cultivated in a castle filled with enemies, and beneath it lurked fire. Pride built inside his chest as Saga walked to the dais, ignoring the crowd’s outrage.
This time, Kassandr rushed forward, offering Saga his elbow as she climbed the stairs. Elisava muttered something about his eagerness under her breath, but Kass ignored her.
“I thank you for great honor,” Saga said with a bow to the high prince, whose expression was now tight.
Kass forced himself to resume his seat, watching as Saga faced the crowd.
