She followed his gaze to the golden banner with seven suns hanging besides Argyle’s stag.
“The entire kingdom has prayed to them for mercy. Perhaps we have somehow offended them—oroneof them.” Laurent glanced then to the mountain in the distance and her eyes widened at the insinuation. “The curse has taken many. With the loss of farmers, merchants, and soldiers, the kingdom is suffering. Its future is at stake now that it has taken Rihan, too.”
Alora’s stomach dropped. “My brother…?”
“He succumbed to it as well.” Laurent took a long drink, emptying the glass.
She pressed a trembling hand to her lips.
“But that’s not the worst of it,” he continued grimly. “Word of this must have spread, for the Kingdom of Calveron now bangs on our walls.”
He looked to the large windows, where ships idled in the wharf. Thousands of them.
“Calveron?” Alora repeated, her eyes widening at the foreign name. “But they are fae from Arthal!”
A continent that lied thousands of leagues from the Land of Urn.
“And yet that did not stop King Thalion from sailing across the seas to invade my kingdom.” Laurent went to the windows, his harsh gaze fixed on the horizon. “He fights with magic and strategic plays I have never faced. Our forces are exhausted, and the border is crumbling. With no men to fill my armies, we lost the war before it began.”
She gasped, rising to her feet “But we must fight back!”
He shook his head, choking on a grim laugh. “How? The unions of old are estranged. I spent many nights kneeled before the Seven, begging for a sign, for hope.” Her father looked to the golden banner embroidered with seven suns. “But they have forsaken us. We have no alliances, daughter. No one to come to our aid.”
Alora stared at him, struggling with confusion and disbelief. She stopped believing in the Gods a long time ago, but the neighboring kingdoms had once been their closest allies. “I don’t understand. Argyle’s foreign relations?—”
“Have fallen to the wayside,” her father said dismissively.
“But what of the Everfrost who depend on our crops? Surely the ice king would send his beasts here to defend his interest. Though I am perplexed that you have not involved the United Crown yet. King Evren was a dear friend of yours.”
Laurent fell quiet for a moment, setting his wine glass down.
“You have not reached out to him,” she realized. “Because of faded treaties or your pride?”
“Don’t concern yourself with why,” he said sharply.
She couldn’t believe this. “Have you forgotten the maxim Argyle stands by? We bow to no crown but our own.”
Laurent’s face darkened, his voice thundering through the hall. “I will not have my daughter lecture me on how to rule my kingdom!”
She flinched back but his anger quickly subsided with a heavy sigh.
Alora read the defeat already etched on his face.
“Will you surrender?” she asked faintly.
“I already have...” Her father looked out the window again. His reflection was tired, eyes heavy. She joined him as they gazed at the foreign ships on the seas. White and gold marked their sails. “King Thalion claims to know how to lift the curse. Ihave a mind to believe he caused all this, regardless, none of his men have fallen under a sleep like death.”
Alora’s mind spun, trying to understand.
“Perhaps this has happened because I insulted the gods.” His eyes met hers on the glass. “And it is my penance or some ill fate that I should lose both my children.”
A chill sank down her spine. “What do you mean?”
“King Thalion and I have come to a peaceful agreement,” Laurent said quietly, turning to face her. “The war will end, and Argyle shall be cured… if I agree to an alliance of marriage for his son.”
Alora’s throat tightened.
“Whose marriage?” she whispered and her pulse roared in her ears.
