“Then who?” he asked, teeth scraping her jawline.
“Hero hasn’t returned yet. Please find him,” she murmured and gave him a firm push back, casting one last look in Riker’s direction, attempting to make herself appear wistful. But the ruse was difficult and she wasn’t sure it mattered at this point. If she didn’t have the Enneahedron, then the fact that she had an unclaimed Prince, no matter the reason, wouldn’t make a difference. She’d have to fight Lavana.
Kaelan followed her gaze.
“Careful,” he said. “You’ll make me jealous.”
She moved in closer, smiling at him so everyone watching could see. “How boring.”
She turned. The crowd parted, but not for her.
A young girl with hair braided severely to her scalp, wearing a powder-blue short coat with gold twisting orchids embroidered on the breast, rushed towards her.
A few feet away, the messenger stopped, lifted her chin, and said, “Greetings from the Crown, Magdalena of the Eastern Cliffs. Your request for an audience has been accepted. Please appear at your family’s gate at ten tomorrow morning.” She bowed, then turned and strode away on quick, long legs.
Magda did her best to keep her face neutral, but inside, she was panicking.
It was already past midnight. How was she supposed to find the Enneahedron before ten in the morning? And it wasn’t as though she go could tromping around, turning out pockets.
She swept around. Kaelan had vanished into the crowd somewhere, which was dangerous considering there were a handful of underage, unattached Raes present, but at this point, it was the least of her concerns.
“You will excuse me,” she said to the nearest elders. “I have preparations to make before I meet with the Crown. Thank you all for your attendance.”
She inclined her head towards them, and then, without waiting for a response, rushed back to the house.
Honey lay on a sofa in Flor’s sitting room on the second floor.
“I don’t know what happened,” she said again.
“Ask Cae, maybe he knows,” Magda snapped.
Flor scowled at her from where she was perched at Honey’s side. “What is wrong with you?”
She bit her lip and turned her shoulder to them, staring at the painting of some ancestor poised dramatically on the edge of the cliffs, her black hair blowing in the wind like a tattered flag.
“I’m sorry your pet turned feral on you,” Flor said coldly, “but what did you expect?”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” Flor barked.
“Me,” Kaelan said.
Magda hurried to open the door. He stood in the dimly lit hall, his face grave. Behind him, Damion lurked.
Kaelan had removed his coat, holding it bunched in his arms.
Her heart lurched.
Limp in the fabric was a black ball of fur, Hero. He was motionless.
“He’s alive,” Kaelan murmured. “Just.”
Flor came up behind Magda, wrenching the door open wider. “What are you doing bringing that beast into this house?”
Magda moved out into the hall, forcing Kaelan and Damion to back up. “We’ll leave you now. Good evening.”
“Don’t you dare heal that creature!” Flor called after them as Magda led Kaelan and Damion up the stairs.
