“Please let me know if you’d prefer a different ring. That one was my mother’s, and she was very fond of it. Even if she wasn’t always fond of my father.”
“It’s perfect, really,” I reply.
“I hope so. Kalise suggested it was bad luck to give you a ring from an unhappy marriage, but my mother was a good woman. She was kind to everyone, and I’d like to see a part of her with my wife each day.”
I take his hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m honored to have a piece of her with me.”
I lead him along a shortcut, a wooded path seldom visited but more direct to the carriage from where we stand. Ferns skirt the edges of the trail beneath towering trees. As we walk, an unfamiliar scent driftsthrough the air—a rancid, rotten smell that stings my eyes. I lift my handkerchief to cover my mouth and nose.
“What is that?” Leland asks, voice muffled behind his own handkerchief. Then he grows still. “I’ve smelled that once before—along the border near the Beral Sea. It came from rot spreading in an old mine. Mr. Blackwell showed it to me. Corrupted helachite can become a spreading rot.”
I nod, scanning the forest, and see the source immediately—a dark, brownish-grey gash in the earth, pulsing and steaming. The stench makes me want to flee, yet I can’t look away.
“There it is,” I breathe. “But how can the rot be spreading through the center of Crawford?”
Leland keeps his face covered as he takes my hand and pulls me back from the foul pit. “It doesn’t make sense. According to Mr. Blackwell, the rot is linked to over-mining and prolonged exposure to helachite.”
“The nearest helachite mine is a day from here. We need to return to Fairbright Palace at once. I’ll have to send another footman ahead to let Astoria know a new carriage is on its way for her.”
12
Kieran
“Tell me all that you know about the rot,” Gabriel presses, a smallsword in his hand. We’re standing in the training hall, a place I once knew well, back when I was permitted to train with him. As a gardener’s son, I shouldn’t have been given such freedom, but King Hugo felt sympathy for me after my arrival. Once Gabe, Gen, and I became close companions, I was allowed to do anything the Ashcroft siblings did.
I see it clearly now: I was a sort of pet to the Ashcrofts. A redblood companion meant to entertain the young crown princess and her siblings—but always to know my place. To never hope for more than what was freely given. Striving for more, hoping for the love of a princess, was strictly off-limits.
He gestures for me to choose my own weapon, so I reach for a smallsword meant for training. How did we end up here? From agreeing to speak privately about the rot to preparing to duel in a practice ring?
I stare down at the blade in my hand. It’s not as though I haven’t kept up my training. Yes, there were years where I didn’t see the light of day, let alone a weapon, but since then, I’ve made good use of my elevated position and found time to hone my swordsmanship again.
“You do practice, do you not?” Gabe asks, a hint of his old cocky grin tugging at his lips. He was always an arrogant prick, even when he was my best friend.
“Of course. I just wasn’t expecting us to discuss the state of your mines while fencing.”
Gabe shrugs, the motion so familiar it catches me off guard. Something inside me twists—familiarity, and yet distance so vast it feels foreign. “I always practice at this hour. It’s a routine I refuse to miss. Now—about the rot.”
He walks to the court and takes his position, waiting. I oblige him, curious to see if my renewed training is enough to overtake a prince.
“Many of the mines along the coast were so far gone when I purchased them that I permanently closed them and took it as a loss. I wouldn’t wish my greatest enemy to work in those conditions.”
He raises his sword, swagger returning to his step. “Do you have many enemies, Blackwell?” The way he says my name cuts, and he attacks with such speed that it nearly takes me by surprise as I quickly step to block his offense.
“You’d be surprised how many people hate a man for rising above his station.” I counter in a quick, rhythmic tempo that’s been drilled into me since childhood. His lunge is predictable—the same move he’s relied on all his life—and I deflect it easily. The gleam in his eye turns feral as he advances again.
“And how many people fell during your rise, Blackwell?” he snaps, his strikes growing sharper, more exacting.
“I thought we were talking about the rot, not my business success.” I counterattack, forcing him onto the defensive as I swipe and parry.
He growls in frustration as I catch him off guard. “Rot, yes. Cases have been reported around the country.”
“Impossible,” I snarl as we move in a steady rhythm of back and forth. Despite the years I spent trading a pickaxe for a sword, we’re still evenly matched.
“It only spreads when the land can no longer bear misuse. But that’s not what’s happening here. That leaves only one way it can spread.”
We’re close enough now that I can see the sweat dripping down Gabe’s face—but it’s the anger in his eyes I don’t expect.
“Someone is misusing helachite, causing the rot to spread.”
