I exhale, rolling my shoulders. “My uncle wants to see me. I’ll… go tomorrow.” There’s no way I would survive on horseback tonight. I’d never even make it halfway there without collapsing.
For now, I allow myself one moment of peace.
Because I know it won’t last.
The bath was a welcome relief, washing away the dust of travel and the weight of exhaustion from my limbs. My muscles still ache, but it’s a dull, manageable discomfort now, soothed by warm water and the lingering scent of lavender oil.
Now, dressed in a loose, pale-blue gown, I walk beside Sir Holden as he leads me through the corridors toward the dining hall. I never thought I’d be so happy to wear a dress like this. The fabric is light, flowing, a welcome change from the stifling weight of mourning clothes, and the color gives me a sense of hope, instead of instilling within me a state of foreboding and dread.
Sir Holden walks a measured pace beside me, his steps silent against the castle floors. As we near the dining hall, I brace myself for the usual formality—an announcement, a procession of servants, the king’s scrutinizing gaze from the head of the table. But the moment I enter, the state of the room surprises me.
The long table is crammed with its usual overabundance of food, but the chairs surrounding it are mostly empty.
Only Dante remains, seated at the center with a goblet of wine in hand and a faint crease in his brow. He glances up the moment I arrive, and whatever tension lingers in his shoulders melts just a little. No king. No queen. No Nadya, either.
“Where is everyone?” I ask softly as I approach.
Dante stands, pulling out the seat beside him. “The queen begged off for the evening. Headache, they said.” He offers a half-smile, but there’s no humor in it. “And my father is holed up in his war chamber, waiting for the nightfeathers.”
I sit slowly, trying not to let my surprise show. “Already?”
He nods. “He’s convinced the realm’s decisions are moments away. Keeps checking the skies, as if willing the birds to arrive faster will make the other rulers approve faster.”
“Will they send them all at once?”
“Depends if they’re still following the old ways. If they are, each realm will vote—then deliver their decision through a single, marked bird. That’s how it was done over a century ago, anyway. At least, that’s what Farvis says.”
I glance at the flickering candlelight between us, the quiet clink of dishes echoing faintly from the far end of the room, where two servants bring in more dishes—roasted vegetables, pheasant with juniper berries, a loaf of buttered rye.
Dante leans closer, his voice softer now. “What about you? You’ve got that look in your eye.”
I shift in my seat, not even bothering to deal with the fact that he can read me like a book. “I wasn’t planning on saying anything yet. But… I received a note from my uncle.”
His eyes lock on mine. “‘A note’?”
I nod. “A nightfeather reached Ivystone before we returned. He wants to see me. Said it was urgent.”
The warmth in his eyes dims. “Are you going?”
“Yes. In the morning.”
“I could come with you.”
The words are instinctual—his loyalty always so quick, so certain—but I shake my head.
“You should stay. If you’re gone when the realms’ responses arrive, your father will find someone to blame. And we both know he won’t hesitate to point that finger at me.”
He leans back in his chair, exhaling. “I hate that you’re right.”
I offer a small smile. “Sir Holden will come with me. I’ll be fine.”
He’s quiet a moment, then nods. “Still. Be careful.”
I reach across the table, brushing his fingers with mine. “I will.”
We fall into an easy rhythm, eating beneath the low-lit chandelier and the soft patter of rain tapping at the windows, the quiet between us no longer weighted but comfortable, like a breath finally let out.
I glance at Dante over the rim of my goblet. “Do you think this is what it’ll be like when we’re king and queen?”
