Within the beauty and peace of the garden, Iskra had to focus on a chilling stain: Kryth. He had transformed himself to the role of minister. His silver hair shone in the sun, his skin youthful. She rarely saw him in this form, and it always surprised her how those subtle shifts made him appear so much more otherworldly than his shop owner form.
Bron clearly didn’t like the sight of the minister either. He squirmed in his seat, his eyes like two blades ready to strike.
“What’s wrong with you?” Iskra hissed, slapping the fan on Bron’s thigh when he grumbled deep in his throat.
Bron whipped his head in her direction, those violent eyes now on her. “Nothing,” he snapped. “Keep to yourself.”
“The minister is not going to do anything to you.”
Bron clenched his jaw. “Who's to say he hasn’t already?”
Iskra’s mouth opened, but before she could question him further, Kryth began to preach.
Iskra zoned out, uninterested in what he had to say about the gods and their goodness. If the gods were truly benevolent, Iskra wouldn’t need to die for them and this court.
Instead, Iskra eyed Jasyn. His posture was straight and his eyes focused, but she could see the nerves coursing through him even from here. He fiddled with his hands, and once she squinted, Iskra saw he was holding something. She couldn’t see clearly, but it was a round object.
She wished then that she could comfort him, to remind him she was here, that he wasn’t alone. Yet…the small distance between them felt like a whole ocean. So, she sat politely, acting like a noble lady instead of the brewing beast that desired to escape the clutches of duty.
Sometimes, Jasyn wished his family wasn’t royalty—that his father never chose to enter the Undertaking and leave victorious for decades. His parents could have chosen a cottage in the outskirts of the court, where it was quiet. He and his siblings would be able to freely roam without potentially life-ending responsibilities weighing on them. Jaymes and Dahlia wouldstill be here, and Jasyn wouldn’t need to listen to the minister of the Sun Court drone on about the Weather Gods.
Then, it would be like cold water had been poured on him as he remembered the honor and privilege of being able to sit in this position, how he actually enjoyed the work involved in running a court.
Once the minister made his closing remarks and the crowd began to disperse, Jasyn practically jumped from his seat and stretched. Not being able to move for an hour had left him antsy.
“You never grew out of those childhood traits, did you?” his father asked as he turned to face his son.
Jasyn shrugged, his eyes immediately landing on Esi. Unlike last night, the pull was back, and he sighed in relief.
“Being king means you’ll need to become accustomed to sitting for a long time. And if your fate is like mine, you’ll be seated forever.”
Those words pulled Jasyn’s attention away from Esi, who was speaking to her guard. Jasyn cleared his throat, unsure of the words to respond. While grieving Dahlia, his father also had to grieve the life he’d once lived. Jasyn couldn’t imagine the pain of it all.
“Don’t pity me, son,” his father said sternly. “Amidst the grief for my two children and my worry for you, I am still living a full life, even in this chair. It has allowed me to slow down in ways I needed.”
His mother must have finished her conversation with Kryth, because she was at Jasyn’s side, wrapping her arms around his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his temple.
“I think your father deserves time to rest after years of leading,” she said.
Jasyn took in his parents. They had given so much of their lives for this court, and now, it was Jasyn’s turn.
“Will you join us for lunch?” His mother’s question was hopeful.
Jasyn nodded but let his eyes wander to Esi. The minister was now with her and Bron. Bron looked ready to tackle the minister any second.
“I’ll be there soon,” Jasyn told his parents, and they both gave him a secretive smile when they noticed the direction of his eyes.
“Be good,” his mother jokingly warned, and Jasyn batted away both his parents before they teased him anymore.
Approaching Esi, Jasyn heard the tail end of the minister’s words.
“The Gods have chosen such a beautiful bride for our next king.”
Esi didn’t seem to enjoy the compliment, because she looked to be biting her tongue as he reached the group. Mych stood guard at the entrance to the garden, but his eyes were on Bron, as if he, too, noticed his discomfort.
“The Gods chose a vile minister,” Bron snapped, as if he couldn’t hold in the words anymore, as if he was a volcano ready to burst.
Kryth smiled, and it wasn’t warm. A chill went down Jasyn’s spine. He didn’t have anything against the minister, but something about the man seemed sinister.
