Elyse huffed, her laugh echoing through the trees. “Because of the other night. We mentioned you and Manny having kids, and you bolted.”
“Oh,” Sera said again. Her gaze began to slip, but Elyse nudged her again.
“What’s going on?” Elyse demanded in earnest. She saw the fear and the guilt in her friend’s face, but she did not waver. She said nothing as she waited for Sera to speak.
Sera’s lip trembled. “I can’t tell you,” she choked out. “At least, not until I’ve solved it.”
Elyse’s brows furrowed. Her concern became a living thing inside her, one that screamed to be let out. “Are you sick? Whatever it is, Privya can fix it.”
Sera placed her hand on Elyse’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’m not sick.” She gave Elyse a resolute look.
But the worry inside Elyse didn’t recede. It slithered inside her, leaving an acidic slime in its wake.
“Let me help,” she said again, letting each word fall clearly from her lips.
Sera’s throat bobbed. “I may need to ask something of you,” she said, her voice finding a surety that she’d lacked until now. “And if that time comes, I need you to trust me, and promise you’ll do what I ask, no matter what.”
Elyse tilted her head. She’d never heard Sera speak so cryptically. She had a thousand questions, and the anguish on Sera’s face made her want to demand a thousand answers.
“What do you—” she began, but Sera cut her off.
“Promise me.” Desperation pierced her voice.
Elyse swallowed. She was afraid—as afraid as she had been when she was captured by Siamus, or when she lost her mother and felt alone in the world. But Sera had always been there for her. Sera had blindly stood by her side, lied to the Royal Guard for her, arranged a meeting with Killian for her so that she could bargain her own life in a blood pact. There was nothing Elysewouldn’t do for her friend. She trusted her with her heart, with her entire soul.
“I promise,” Elyse said. “Whatever you need.”
Sera gave her a sad smile and removed her hand from Elyse’s shoulder. “Good,” she said, the word coming out in a sigh.
“Good,” Elyse repeated. Her muscles relaxed, but her stomach remained twisted. She didn’t know if she’d actually helped or not. “Now, let’s go convince a paranoid hermit to leave his heavily warded island.”
Sera smiled then—a weak but genuine one—and the two fell into step beside one another.
“Elyse?” Sera said after a moment.
“Hm?”
Sera’s voice was low and sober as she went on.
“I’ll know if you change your mind.”
25
Killian
The roomwas swathed in blue. Blue tapestries on the walls, blue suede on the chairs, blue wax on the letters. Royal blue—a fitting shade for the Vandever insignia. Nowhere was it more prevalent than in the king’s royal study.
Killian sat beside Manny at a humorously large desk and tried to look anywhere but at the blue. It reminded him too much of what had changed: the position he’d lost, the monarch he’d failed to protect. He’d been in this room countless times, always to report to King Cyril. Now a new king sat across from him.
Maelor appeared comfortable behind the desk. He settled into the chair like he belonged there and rested his forearms on the finely lacquered oak with confidence. His jerkin—blue, of course—fitted him well, and though he had opted not to don the crown for their meeting, he still had a regal air about him.
Killian supposed it made sense. Maelor had been king for several months now, and even before his father’s murder, he had served as a representative of the crown for years. Ruling, deliberating, commanding—it had all been a part of his life for so long. The title hardly changed that.
Killian was the one that had changed. His pride had been wounded, his authority slashed. He felt like a failure inside these walls, though outside… Outside, with Elyse, he felt remarkable. Unstoppable. Esteemed.
“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice, Your Majesty,” Manny said with a serious tone reserved only for these kinds of conversations.
Maelor nodded. “You made it sound very important.”
