All heads turned as the woman stood among the crowd. She hesitated, her hands smoothing the skirt of her brown dress before she eased along the row and walked down the long aisle. I didn’t miss the way her trembling fingers clutched her skirt. Lines of worry had been carved into her brow, and her braided blonde hair swayed against her back with each step. When she reached the end of the aisle, she curtsied, her head bowing low.
“Rise, Dalva Grevald.” I sat straighter. Reyla mirrored my posture, her eyes narrowing as she studied the other woman. I hadno doubt she was also pulling every detail from Dalva’s appearance like me.
Dalva straightened, her shoulders squaring. “Your Majesties.” Her voice came out clear and strong. “I’m a farmer who lives outside the city wall, near the northeastern grove. My family has tended that land for many generations. During all that time, we’ve worked in peace. Until recently.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the arms of my throne. “What has changed?”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and she clasped her hands in front of her waist. “Something has been attacking at night. It comes without warning and kills quickly, then vanishes before we catch a glimpse of it.”
Hisses rippled through the room, the audience shifting in their seats.
“If anyone present has insight into these attacks, now is the time to speak,” I drawled.
Gazes turned away, focusing on anywhere but me.
Dalva’s lips pressed into a tight line, and she glanced back before she faced me and spoke again. “I’ve come here to beg for help, Your Majesties. I’ve lost over half of my flock in the past month, not to mention twelve chickens. I fear my remaining sheep won’t last much longer. Without them, my family will have nothing to live on.”
My jaw tightened. This was exactly the sort of issue that needed addressing before the people outside our walls turned their backs on us. But our resources were stretched thin. A few of the high lords and ladies had recently begged for a lowering of their tithes, stating with tight times, they couldn't afford to pay their share. As Reyla had pointed out, it took considerable coin to maintain a kingdom. Though my family was not without its ownwealth, and I'd gladly give everything to ensure my people were safe, I had to take care where and how I spent our coffers.
I covered my mouth and spoke to Wildfire in a low voice. “What do you suggest?”
It wasn’t only a question. I was showing her I trusted her input in this as well. My time…ourtime, was running out, and I had to prepare her for the worst. Every decision she made now, small or large, would carry beyond this room. She had to learn to bear the load if I wasn’t here to help shoulder it. The thought of her facing this world without me made my chest burn like an open wound.
The calculation behind her brown eyes and the thinning of her lips told me she was thinking this through. Her voice dropped. “Do we have enough guards to spare for the farmlands?”
“Not without leaving other areas exposed.”
Determination crossed her face and she whispered something that made me pause. Before I could respond, though, the doors at the back of the throne room burst open, banging into the walls.
A man stumbled inside, swaying like a puppet with severed strings. All the blood had leached from his face, and his eyes had gone wild. Blood—too much blood—soaked his clothing, dripping off his fingertips and splattering onto the red runner with every staggering step.
“Help,” he choked, his voice gurgling and wet.
He collapsed onto the red carpet before anyone could move.
10
Reyla
The doors at the end of the room banged against the stone walls. Heads whipped around, and gasps rose from the crowd as a man staggered into the throne room. His boots left messy, dark streaks on the carpet, the bright fabric soaking up his dripping blood. The coppery tang hit my nose before he made it even halfway down the aisle.
“Help,” he choked, his voice raw and wet, like every word was dragged out of him by force. He stumbled toward us, his arms outstretched, before he crumpled to the floor. His body landed with a dull thud, and he lay motionless except for the erratic jerking of his chest.
The room erupted, a wave of whispers and cries rippling throughthose watching.
I shot to my feet. “Get a healer!” The command broke through the panic. One of my guards bolted for the back of the room, her boots stomping the floor.
Merrick and I rushed off the dais.
“Get out of the way,” he barked at the gathering crowd. I followed, lifting my skirts to keep from tripping as we pushed through. I caught snippets of their hushed whispers.
“Magic—His Highness will fix this.”
“Who is it? I don't recognize him.”
“Lesser, I'd say.”
“No, that’s a high lord. I think…Lord Ferlaern?”
