“You can go home, Magdalena. You can vie again.”
She gazed steadily back at him. “Is that why you came here? To convince me to return?”
“Why are you reluctant? Are you afraid?”
She stiffened. “I’m not afraid.”
“It’s been a long time,” he said. “Perhaps you have not kept fit—”
“That’s not it,” she said, though she hadn’t touched her finger-knives since she’d been exiled, let alone trained. She sat forward. “I am not a part of that world any longer, Damion. And I have no desire to be.”
Marred as his face was, it was easy to read. At the moment, it was disbelieving.
“We are safe here,” she said. “At least, safer than we were back home. We live in peace. All the races that have fled, Pixies, dwarfs, even some Elves—”
He recoiled. “Elves?”
“I haven’t seen any, but I’ve heard there are a few.” She pushed up from the chair, sighing. “That’s not the point. The Lands... all the fighting, vying for the family, the lust for the Crown... What has it gotten any of us? I know how this world seems at first, but... it’s better here. I have no desire to be the Radiant or to vie for the Crown or even to return there. This is my home now.”
Damion leaned back, looking thoroughly disgruntled, which to a human, she could imagine, would’ve been quite intimidating. The scars were off-putting. People would stare and that was not the kind of attention any of them wanted to bring in this world. Word might spread back to the Lands, and then mercenaries might come hunting.
“And what about the Elf King?” he said. “He has dragons, did you know that? They do his bidding.”
“The dragons are gone—”
He pressed on. “His torment of the small folk is ceaseless. The tides of refugees, endless. Now, we hear he is threatening the strongholds of the dwarfs. You know what comes after that,” Damion said. “We need a strong Radiant to protect our coasts and the peninsula.”
“And what has the Crown done?”
He rose to his feet, holding her gaze. “Rumors are the Crown is dying.”
A strange knot twisted in her chest. One she did not want to acknowledge. One she thought she had untied many years ago. She had no desire for the Crown, and yet... it was in her blood. As much as she’d left it all behind, she was a Rae, inheritor to one of the seven noble families, descendant of the first Crown, who was mother to them all. The Crown’s seven daughters had brought order and peace to the Lands, but then, after the Crown’s death, they had killed each other off until only one had remained—the first Ascension.
“Then may she travel the High Road to the Godlands,” she said, after choking back the sudden resurgence of her old ambition.
“Magdalena—”
“No,” she said. “I am done with that life, Damion. If you wish to return, that’s your choice. But I won’t. I’m happy here.”
He looked around, sneering openly. “Are you?”
The knot in her chest cinched tighter. She scowled, crossing her arms, annoyed, both at him and at herself. After all these years in relative peace and safety and happiness, all it had taken to revive that restless energy, those old merciless aspirations, was word that the family and the province were up for the taking. That she could be Radiant...
But no, shewasbetter off here. She didn’t want to go back. And she wouldn’t. For what? To deal daily with her petty, scheming, backstabbing family? To subject herself to the tedium of governance over the Eastern Cliffs and all its thousands of inhabitants? To fight and bleed over and over, always sleeping with one eye open? Who in their right mind would wish for any of that? Let alone risk their life to take it on?
Not her.
Not again.
Never again.
“Where is your Prince anyway?” Damion asked.
“IS THAT HIM?”Damion asked, before she’d pointed Riker out from the many beautiful young men crowding the beach.
Another atypically hot day had brought out the locals and tourists alike, which was both a boon and an annoyance. Damion, hidden behind large sunglasses and one of Riker’s trendy straw fedoras, was still a strange sight. But while many people saw him, the crowds were so thick that no one had a chance to stare too long.
She didn’t need to ask Damion how he’d spotted Riker. He’d spotted him the same way they all knew each other. The scent of the Lands remained in them. The magic they kept hidden released a heady powerful odor, at once specific to an individual and yet immediately recognizable as belonging to the Lands.
