My sister is gone. Dead. And there’s nothing I can do to bring her back.
I’m tired.
I need to eat.
With shuffling feet, I cross the floor from the bed to the door, where the leftover food remains untouched. On my way, I find my dagger, lying useless on the floor where it landed after Aspen kicked it away. I retrieve it, then investigate the plates of food, finding a roll of bread as the only appetizing feature. I bite into it, not even caring that I haven’t salted it. Luckily, the bread appears harmless, as it does nothing more than slightly quell the aching hunger in my stomach.
A knock sounds on my door, making me jump. Lorelei peeks inside, then enters, closing the door behind her. She meets my eyes with a look of apology. “Are you all right?”
I puzzle over the question before I answer. “I guess so,” I lie. In truth, I’m not even close to all right. But she probably knows that.
“You are requested at breakfast,” she says.
I set down the bread roll. “Just like that, my appetite is gone.”
“I’m so sorry. I know the king is the last person you want to see right now, but his temper has calmed regarding you. By now he must realize you had nothing to do with your sister’s disappearance.”
“Yes, but how do I knowhehad nothing to do with it?” I mutter.
“He couldn’t have wanted things to turn out the way they did,” Lorelei says. “After every Reaping, the hosting court of the Chosen is put under deep scrutiny. The month leading up to the wedding that secures the treaty is a precarious time. Whatever happens between the hosting court and the Chosen is the difference between peace and war. You must see these mishaps have done nothing to benefit the king. They only make the council question his competence as a ruler. He could lose his throne if they find him unfit. Do you think he wants that?”
“Perhaps that’s for the best.”
Lorelei bites her lip before replying. “You know, he isn’t so bad as you think he is.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Amelie said the same thing. And she’s now dead.”
“Fair enough,” she says with a sigh. “I can’t sway your opinion, especially when your loss is so raw. I, more than anyone, can understand that. But you must go to breakfast. Follow his summons. For now.”
I meet her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”
She shrugs. “The council left at first light. That means they came to some conclusion about the treaty. For all you know, what happened with your sister could have broken it. Aspen could have been forced to step down. You might even be sent home.”
Sent home. Relief washes over me, then terror. How can I return home without Amelie? How can I face my mother and tell her what happened? Something else tickles at my mind. “Wait. If the treaty is broken, wouldn’t that mean war?”
She nods solemnly. “Yes.”
I’m struck with a sudden resolve to know the truth. If there is to be war, I don’t want to linger here any longer than necessary. Beyond that…I don’t even want to think about it. “Fine, I’ll go.”
* * *
Once I’m bathed and dressed, Lorelei leads me to breakfast. I’m surprised to find it held in a smaller dining room, one I’ve never been to before. Whatever the reasoning for the change, I’m grateful for it. I don’t think I could look at that open expanse in the formal dining room without remembering my sister’s body. Not today.
Aspen hardly glances my way as I enter and take a seat at the small table, while Cobalt offers me a sad smile. The two brothers are already eating, and a plate of food has been laid out for me next to a bowl of salt. Once I salt my food, I push the items around the plate, but can’t seem to bring any to my lips.
“I’m sorry about your sister.”
I’m shocked to hear the words uttered from Aspen’s end of the table. I look at him, but his eyes are on his food. My mouth feels too dry to respond.
“I shouldn’t have locked you in your room either,” he says. His words are strained, like it pains him greatly to admit his fault.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” I say. My voice comes out weak, but my anger is helping clear my mind from its daze. “Are you going to let me see her body?”
He takes his time chewing his food before answering. “No.”
“Then your apology is wasted on me.”
Silence falls over the table again, my scorn hanging over our heads like a shroud. I can feel Aspen’s anger rolling in waves, but I try to pretend I don’t notice.
