Chapter thirty-six
Seren
The ornate door slammed open, gold chipping against the frame as they crashed together. Its twin across the broad ballroom opened just as roughly, and Princess Ayla spilled forth—real and redfaced, raw and in the flesh.
Her chestnut hair gleamed under chandelier light, just as I remembered. Her eyes were as honeyed as ever, the left a brighter shade of gold. She was radiant, a wash of sunlight in the tremulous night.
Prince Claudian was her shadow, sinister in blood red.
Harkin drew close, his fingers ghosting across my back protectively.
Ayla’s sweet, soft face was flushed, her eyes red with the remnants of tears. She looked so unbearably sad and confused.
Though I did not truly know her—though I had not believed her to be real before this day—I felt as if I did. I had met her time and again in my dreams. I had watched her want and laugh and struggle and hope.
Ayla tucked a long, golden strand of hair behind her ear. Her dress swished elegantly as she took one hesitant step forward. “Safiya?”
“Ayla, dear, not another step.” Claudian’s voice boomed through the ballroom, echoing to the top of the vaulted ceiling. His red hairshone as he stepped beneath the candlelight. It was adorned with a golden circlet that I remembered all too well.
Prince Claudian Sgalier of Acsilla strode toward us, spine straight and hands clasped formally at his front. His mouth slanted in a casual smirk, half quirked as if he could not quite muster the care to form it fully.
“Stay close to me,” Harkin whispered. He moved closer, his fingers digging into the flesh of my waist as he held me tight. My skin was already hot—on the verge of sweating—but his touch was scalding, a protective brand upon my hip.
Claudian strolled forward, unhurriedly.
“I find it interesting, truly, that my mercenaryandmy spymaster would disobey direct orders. Not only that, but to plot against me?” He tsked disapprovingly. “I asked you both to ensure one thing. Apprehend Seren Corso, and bring her to me. Was that so very difficult?”
Safiya turned, exchanging a panicked look with Harkin over my shoulder. He returned her gaze steadily, unflinching, though I knew fear gripped him just as firmly.
“Nothing to say for yourselves?” Claudian paused dramatically before continuing. “Well, however the means and intention, I thank you both for delivering Miss Corso to me before the solstice, as discussed. I hope you’ll both enjoy the dungeons. You’ll certainly be spending a lot of time down there, or perhaps your stay will be rather short. I have not yet decided.”
The prince moved as if to call his guards to him where they were stationed, just outside the ballroom, but I spoke first. “Ayla, I know you don’t know me, and you have no reason to trust me, but I need you to listen to me.”
I stepped around Safiya, Harkin a shadow at my back.
Ayla’s face turned hard, but it was unnatural on her soft features. “I know exactly who you are, and I already know you have come to kill me. Prince Claudian told me everything.”
“He told you he means to assassinate the king?” I asked, still moving toward her.
Her eyes widened then narrowed. She cut a glance toward the prince.
“What is she talking about, Brother?” A new voice joined the conversation.
Safiya gasped, and Harkin swore.
I turned my eyes toward the newcomer. A towering man with strawberry blond hair, streaked gray at the temples. His jaw was set, eyes steely, and the crown atop his head left little room for interpretation.
Standing before us was King Tarquin himself.
Prince Claudian recovered from the surprise quickly. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Tarquin. I am only handling some errant employees of mine.”
“Then why is it my life in question?" The king demanded, distrust written across his face. It seemed the brothers had little love lost between them as the pair began to argue in hushed tones.
I inched closer to Ayla despite Harkin’s whispered plea that I remain close.
“I don’t know what Claudian told you, Ayla, but I am not here to kill you. I am here to stop him from assassinating the king, that is all.” I continued to approach, hands raised in placation.
“I won’t fall for your lies,” Ayla spat, but the venom on her tongue was muted, unpracticed. “He told me not to trust anything out ofyour traitorous mouth. There is nothing you could say that would change my mind.”
