Ah, the little brother I’d once met when the twins had visited Matthias one summer.
‘Come and meet my new bride.’
Ifan strode up, narrowing his gaze as he took me in. He may have been four years younger, but his muscles eclipsed those of his older brother.
‘Sorrow,’ he said, a weak smile cracking across his handsome face. ‘I’ve no idea why you married him.’
‘It was either that or death.’
‘And for some reason, she still chose him,’ Asher said, earning a cuff on the shoulder from Matthias.
‘Sorry, brother. I had to find you.’
‘What’s this?’ Matthias took the parchment Ifan held out.
‘The Alliance has called an emergency meeting in three days’ time. The empress has been sighted off our shores. We face invasion.’
Matthias’s face darkened.
‘Take Sorrow back?—’
‘No,’ I shouted.
‘Do you know any other words or is “no” your instant response to any request?’
I grabbed the corners of my skirts to prevent my fists from flying into his face. Despite the resentment still burrowing into my chest, I couldn’t bear the thought of going to Asmar alone, twiddling my thumbs while I waited for Matthias to return, living among strangers.
‘Take me to the summit. It can be your wedding present if you wish. In the library, I undertook years of research into potential Vyrium stores. I can help.’
Matthias’s eyebrows flew up.
‘Another little secret Romero kept from me.’
He turned to Asher who shrugged.
‘Fine.’ He turned to his not-so-little brother. ‘Ifan, you return and get everything ready for my – our – return. I’m taking your new queen to our first summit.’
CHAPTER 11
In order to prevent any subsequent devastating loss of life, the rulers of each of the ten northern lands pledge to form an Alliance. An Alliance that will enable all nations to prosper and flourish, ensuring future generations thrive in a world of harmony.
— A DECLARATION OF PEACE IN THE AFTERMATH OF THE DRUFAERAN ADVANCE, ONE HUNDRED AND NINETY-SIX YEARS AGO
Though I had devoured text after text about the history of The Alliance in Romero’s library, a tight knot writhed in my guts as the double doors to the debating chamber were thrown open. Two hundred years ago, one of Romero’s ancestors had waged a devastating war in her quest to possess every last fleck of Vyrium. The ten nations of the two northern continents – Shutera and Vlanael – had been drawn into a war unlike any before. The decimated lands had been littered with corpses, civilisations razed. Thus, The Alliance was formed. It was, themonarchs claimed, the path to peace, harmony, prosperity and collaboration.
The ideals behind The Alliance’s conception were so wholesome that it was a crying shame the current Alliance considered the majority of them bullshit. Nations jostled for the all-elusive prime spot (or with Drufaera holding all the gilded keys, the secondary position). But sometimes, just sometimes, The Alliance came together as it had been intended.
Carush had once been part of The Alliance. It had been a land of towering rainforests, and hidden temples steeped in myths. All till King Edvard arranged the marriage of his second daughter. His spare. Allegedly, the old gods had talked to her, spoken of a new path – and so she’d poisoned every living soul in the palace. She’d grown bored with being a mere queen of her own land, and quietly worked her way through the neighbouring monarchies of Vlanael, further reducing the number of kingdoms in The Alliance. She’d created her empire.
The stories coming out of Carush and Vlanael were fractured, piecemeal, but the sparse details were terrifying. In three short years, she’d decimated centuries-old monarchies. Her bloodthirsty gaze was now cast across the sea, towards us. And so, the remaining members of The Alliance gathered, presenting a united front to keep their frail hold on their own crowns. They had no choice other than to cooperate. If they failed, they risked death, or worse – bowing down to the whims of a merciless empress.
And now, I found myself among their dwindling number. A fledgling queen, burning with the desire to prove to Romero I was more than the bastard stepdaughter he couldn’t abide.
I brushed a clump of white fur from my sleeve and let out a breath as I blinked away the shadows. Matthias’s fingers found mine. A shiver raced through me as they threaded through my own, tugging tighter when I tried to pull away.
‘Romero has already taken his seat,’ he whispered into the shell of my ear, heat rising up my neck. I’d permitted a maid to put my hair into a loose knot at my nape. ‘We can’t give him any reason to question our situation.’
I let my fingers loosen, fighting against the urge to curl them around his comforting warmth.
