I glance down at Dante, who stops squirming long enough to appraise her. Right as I’m floundering over what to say next, I’m rescued by the clatter of footsteps in the hall. Sandria turns toward the door right as Finn barrels through it, red-faced and disheveled.
“You got him?”he pants.
I cringe. “He’s fine.”
More rustling sounds from behind me, harmonizing with a chorus of giggles. I glance back and realize the ladies have all sunk into curtsies at Finn’s appearance.Should I do that?The notion feels ridiculous.
The princess looks disarmed by his entrance, smoothing a hand over her hair. But I notice she doesn’t bow, either. “Finneas. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Sandria.” Finn tips his head in the barest acknowledgment. “My apologies for interrupting…whatever this is.”
Sandria shrugs. “Nothing like a little novelty to shake up the day. We don’t mind some excitement, do we?”
Her ladies do not seem to share the sentiment. As their glares accumulate, I can only guess what they’re thinking, and the tension turns suffocating.
I edge toward the door, desperately seeking an exit. Dante’s writhing like he wants a closer look at the princess. “If you’ll excuse us, I’ll just get him back to my room….”
“No, you should stay!” Sandria protests, with another practiced smile. “And perhaps you’ll join us as well, Finneas.”
“Actually, Lyria has to get back to the hospital,” Finn says tightly. “They’re expecting a large inflow today. Perhaps you’re unaware, but a Verdish scouting party was just attacked past the border of Ursandor. We lost two soldiers; another three remain in critical condition.”
“That’s terrible.” Sandria’s expression does not match her words. “My ladies and I will have to pay them a visit and offer our condolences.”
“I’m sure they’d appreciate your attention, Princess.” Finn gives a stiff bow to Sandria and then holds an arm out to me. “Lyria?”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. With another muttered string of apologies, I escape with him out the open door. We descend the stairs in silence. Once we reach the landing, I can finally ask, “You think Ursandor was behind the attacks?”
His brow furrows. “Just how much of that meeting did you overhear?”
“More than I understood,” I admit.
Finn glances around us, though the hallway is empty. “Can we go somewhere we can speak freely?”
I hesitate. “I can’t. I need to get back to the hospital—I’ve been gone too long already.”
“Please?” He takes an entreating step. “I don’t know when I’ll get ordered away again.…It could be as soon as tonight. I’ve been so desperate to speak with you, I feel like I’m losing my mind….”
My conviction splinters, but I still try to hold fast. “I really shouldn’t,” I protest. “Cygnus will be furious if I’m not back in time for my shift.”
Finn laughs. “He can manage foroneafternoon.”
I can’t argue with that. Even though I’m desperate to help the wounded soldiers that arrived, Cygnus still won’t let me do any healing. It won’t make a difference if I scrub floors today or not.
He leads me back to the garden where we escaped after the feast. In the light of day, the scenery is even more spectacular. I let Dante down to explore, and we sit together beneath the willow tree with the golden blossoms, near a duo of preening swans.
“Look,” Finn says, once we’re settled, “I promised you that I was going to be honest.”
“I’d appreciate that very much.”
He takes a deep breath. “The truth is…I don’t get to be honest with people very often. So it’s a little hard for me to say the right things. But I believe that I can trust you, Lyria. And I’m going to try and never lie to you.”
Finn meets my gaze, and I am swept away by those eyes again. It isn’t fair, actually, for a person to be this beautiful. I wonder what kind of childhood he had, buoyed by royalty and looks like those.
“We’ve had tensions with Ursandor as long as I’ve been alive,” he explains, and I force myself to focus on the conversation. “During the Long War, the Ursandorns backed the Elven. Even after the accords, they harbored war criminals, and we’ve had analysts comb through the books on their exports and manufacturing—everything points to continued involvement.”
“What do you mean byinvolvement?” I ask. “Are you talking about the plague?”
“That,” Finn says, “and we think Ursandor’s backing the Elven insurgency.”
