He scoffs. “My daughter’s a princess. She deserves a king, or at the very least, a prince.”
“Well, she cannot havemyking. As for a prince, I’ve yet to pop one out, but if my firstborn turns out to be a son, I’ll make sure to send word. If we join forces, that is. If we don’t, then—”
“Yourson?” Is it me or do his ears seem to have enlarged? It’s probably an optical illusion caused by their high color. “Alyona’s almost one hundred!”
Keeping my tone placid, I say, “Thanks to her impeccable gene pool, she’s bound to look just as splendid in three decades.”
Unless she dies,my mind shrieks at me. I choose not to listen to it.
Vlad mutters something to his son in Glacin.
Though I don’t grasp what he says, my father must because he rumbles a low, “Don’t. Insult. My daughter.”
Vlad’s lips stop twitching.
Clutching my seashell pendant now, I say, “If you do not care for us to be your allies, then we will be your enemies.”
He surveys my hand, then the giant birds gyrating overhead, and sits up, finally raking his arms toward his torso.
Now that I’ve got him on the defensive, I build my case for a quick and peaceful resolution that will charter my course away from Glace, away from its weapons, away from Alyona. “Erasing the wards will benefit your kingdom just as much as it will benefit ours. Not just for trade, but also because you’ll have access to the Cauldron.”
Vlad’s pupils flare.
“If the Shabbins allow you near it, that is.”
The slenderest dent appears between Konstantin’s brows.
“In case you haven’t heard, I’m Shabbin, and not just a common Shabbin, but Queen Priya’s great-granddaughter.”
The Glacin men’s lack of surprise tells me that news of my ancestryhastraveled to Glace.
“What I’m about to suggest will anger my mate, nevertheless, I’m willing to strike a bargain with you—the runestone against an audience with the Cauldron.”
Vlad leans in, lust for the magical source of all magic turning the gray in his eyes a molten silver.
Fallon, no! I forbid you from striking a bargain with the Glacins.
Relief spreads through me at the sound of my mate’s voice.Don’t you trust them?
I trust they’re happy with their lot and don’t desire to see us fall, but that’s as far as my trust goes.
Is the runestone easy to access?
Not easy, no. He’s got a squadron of guards protecting his little museum.
Then this will save us the trouble. Besides, he probably wants to beg the Cauldron for more magic, or coin, or . . . grass.
Grass?
Well, there isn’t much of that around here.
Lore is quiet for a moment. Is he contemplating the judiciousness of striking a deal?You will owe him, mo khrà. When he’s ready to claim his bargain, he could ask for anything. Do not oweanyman, save for me and your father, anything.
Fine.A heist it will be then,I sigh, just as Vladimir of Glace says, “I will take your offer, Fallon Báeinach.”
Well,focá. How am I supposed to turn down the freely given key to the lost queendom?
Sixty-Eight
