Teryn had already assumed as much, but Duke Morkai had wanted it reinforced in Teryn’s mind. Not only that but the idea that Selay would easily fall beneath said army. And if Selay—a wealthy kingdom with a more-than-adequate military force—would so easily fall…
So would Menah.
Teryn kept his expression nonchalant. “Your Grace, Menah has no desire to go to war with Selay.”
Morkai tore his gaze away from Teryn and pushed back from the desk. “No, I wouldn’t think so,” he said with a sigh.
He and Teryn stood at the same time. It was clear the conversation had come to a close. The guard opened the door and Morkai strode toward it. As he reached Teryn, he said, “Your reward is being counted and packed at this very moment. In the meantime, the king invites you to a celebratory dinner tonight. You will attend, yes?”
“Actually, I’d rather be on my way at once.” The words were untrue. Teryn had no intention of leaving until he saw Cora again, but he was curious how far the king’s—and the duke’s—hospitality extended. Was he truly free to leave as he wished, or…
Morkai gave him a cold smile. “Better not, Your Highness. The king does insist.”
“Then I’ll simply visit the stables and see to my horse after such arduous travels.”
“See to it then,” Morkai said. “But you should know this. Should you try and take your horse beyond the castle walls, you will find Ridine’s gates closed to those who deny the king’s kindness.”
“His kindness.”
“Like I said. He insists you stay for dinner tonight.”
As the duke swept away, Teryn was certain of two things. One, that he was a prisoner, not a guest. And two, that he’d get himself, Lex, and Cora out of there if it was the last thing he did.
35
For the first time in six years, Cora was dressed in a gown. She assessed herself in the mirror, startled by her own reflection. The last time she’d seen her full reflection was in this very mirror in this very room—her childhood bedroom. She’d been shorter then. Thinner. Paler. Softer. Now her skin had been browned by the sun, her arms chiseled with firm muscle built by her archery practice.
Her eyes swept over the gown. The skirts were layers of emerald-green silk trimmed with black lace while the bodice was sage brocade. The sleeves ended at her elbows and trailed more lace down her forearms. Cora felt a sharp pang of longing in her heart. This had been her mother’s dress. As soon as the gown had been delivered to her bedroom an hour before, she’d recognized it. It had come with a letter written in her brother’s familiar script, insisting she wear it and join him for dinner. It was so much like something that would have happened in her youth—her brother delivering a dress and extracting a promise that she’d attend some public function on her best behavior—that she could almost pretend she’d never left Ridine.
For a splinter of a moment, she let herself imagine the last six years had been full of nothing more than mundane activity. Dances. Dinners. Greeting dignitaries, courtiers, and guests. She pretended her brother hadn’t accused her of murder. That Morkai had never come into their lives after their parents died, hadn’t gained Dimetreus’ favor and friendship, which would eventually drive a wedge between the king and everyone close to him.
In that split-second fantasy, Cora felt peace. Joy, even. Then her gaze drifted to her eyes, and the illusion shattered. Her eyes were too haunted to belong to a princess. Not to mention her tangled hair that made a mockery of her lovely gown. She’d been delivered an ewer of hot water for a bath, but she’d need a long soak in a tub to untangle her hair. In the end, she’d settled for a messy plait down her back. Loose strands were already slipping free around her face.
A knock sounded at her door, making her jump. A guard’s deep voice rumbled from the other side. It was time for dinner.
Time to see her brother.
Cora stoppedoutside the closed doors to the dining hall. The two guards who had shadowed her as she’d made her way down the familiar path stepped before her now, each reaching for a handle. She held her breath as they pulled the doors open. A shudder of fear ran through her.
The last time she’d been inside this room had been…
Had been…
I curse you to die.
She closed her eyes and forced the memory away. When she opened them again, the dining hall spread out before her. Her stomach sank at seeing it so empty. She’d been somewhat surprised to find the halls so vacant as she’d made her way here, but she’d assumed the servants had been busy with dinner. But that couldn’t be true, for inside the dining hall, every table was empty save the head table. Only the back half of the room was lit by the lamps that lined the walls. The chandeliers overhead bore only cobwebs as if they hadn’t been dressed with candles in years.
“Darling Aveline,” a familiar voice said from the far end of the room.
Her eyes shot to the head table where three figures sat—Morkai, Lex, and…Dimetreus. Her heart skittered, then froze, skittered, then froze, as if it didn’t know what to do as she looked at her brother. The last time they’d been face-to-face, he’d grabbed her by the arm and ordered his guards to haul her into a dungeon cell. But his voice was so warm and kind now. So much like the brother she used to love. Her throat constricted as she forced her trembling legs to move. Her eyes never left her brother’s as she drew near, but with every step, concern began to darken her heart.
Dimetreus Caelan looked at least twenty years older than the version that existed in her memories and nightmares. His eyes were rimmed with shadows, lined with creases, his lips pale. Uneven blotches of color marred what used to be his golden-tan skin. His hair, once thick and black, was now sparse, shot with white beneath his crown. He was dressed in his violet royal coat, but she noticed how it hung loose on his frame as he rose to his feet. Morkai, outfitted in the same black and gold coat he’d worn earlier that day, stood as she approached the dais. Lex belatedly followed. Dimetreus spread his arms wide and gestured for her to take a seat next to him. Her breaths were sharp and shallow as she claimed the chair, and the men returned to their seats. Morkai sat at the king’s right while Lex was at Cora’s left.
Lex leaned in close and frantically whispered, “If someone doesn’t explain what the hell is going on, I’m going to go mad.”
She looked over at him, surprised to find he must have had a full bath. His blond hair was clean and brushed away from his face. His clothes were clean too but showed obvious signs of wear from his travels. The ruffled front of his shirt was tinged yellow while his waistcoat and jacket bore several frayed seams.
“Music,” Dimetreus said, snapping his fingers.
