“I—” I started.
David cut in, his tone on edge. “What was his name?”
“Alvar,” I rasped.
Dead. Silence.
36
CARWYNN
Wyatt glanced to David.Not alarmed but intrigued.
“The Shield King,” Wyatt muttered. “What do you think he’s doing here?” The question clearly for David.
David just stared at me as if solving an invisible math equation across my face. He lightly shook his head in confusion in answer to Wyatt.
Excuse me, awhat?
“Shield King?” I asked, eyes flicking between the both of them.
David’s expression darkened.
“When the Vinter King disappeared, Vinterland needed someone to lead in his place. To hold the crown until the king returned. Alvar was appointed their Shield King.” David chewed on his bottom lip, a rare crack in his composure. “He was the Commander of the Elven Army. The King’s right hand and most trusted blade. When he stepped up, rumors spread that he orchestrated the King’s disappearance to seize power. But—” David’s eyes met mine. “Not everyone believes in rumors.” It was an unspoken accusation—theSkell King.
A fearsome elf warrior hijacking the throne sounded like a juicy power move. But if there’s anyone more power-hungry than that in the realm, it was the Skell King. Alvar didn’t seem to radiate ego and ambition, at least not what I picked up from our brief meeting. If anything, he felt like a shadow, a warrior playing spy, watching and waiting. That’s not someone who holds a kingdom like a prize . . . more of a soldier carrying a burden.
But the ultimate tell was my inkling. It sensed his soul—recognized it asfriend. And if there’s one thing I trusted above all else, it was my gut.
“Rumors are cheap. I don’t believe it for a second,” I stated. “When I first saw him, my inkling flared like it recognized something. A soul connection. I felt it—that unexplainable trust. Like Iknewhim.” I shrugged, surprised by how wild my own words sounded. “Guess that’s why I didn’t immediately try to fight him off when he camouflaged me with his magic cape.”
Wyatt’s mouth parted slightly but remained silent. David may or may not have been dissociating.
“He said he was using a Bondi Stone to search for something. And that finding mechanged things.” I hesitated. “But he seemed cryptically happy about it. Like annoyingly calm—and smirky.” My fingers toyed with the hem of my sleeve on my bicep. “Then he basically told me I needed to own who I was. Be a badass, or whatever.” A short, huffy laugh escaped me as I exhaled. A physical response from my body wondering why I wasn’t being reamed out yet. “The encounter was weird. Cute, but weird.”
A pause settled around. David and Wyatt were statues, still processing the information.
“Oh—” My hands shot up. Verbal diarrhea locked and loaded. “And I kind of touched the Bondi Stone and had avision. I think it was trying to point me in the direction of the black box—you know, the relic from my dreams. I believe it’s in Eostre Land.” Breath. “Which is why I magically chained and tortured Lochlainn into nominating me for the Trials . . .” I blinked. “But that wasafterI broke his lock magic. I was a little pissed.”
The silence was loud.Tooloud.
I don’t think David or Wyatt had blinked yet. A bee buzzed around David’s head, twice. He didn’t even flinch.
Wyatt slowly covered his mouth with a hand. Either to hold back very select words, or to hide a smile.
Then, David lulled his head back, gazing up at the overcast sky. His eyes closed as he took a deep, dramatic breath in.
Welp . . . that’s always a good sign.
Wyatt’s hand dropped, turning toward David with a grin.
“Aren’t daughters wonderful?” he said.
A high-pitched yelp snapped my attention to the side. Huck was rubbing his backside, having just been rudely awakened. He’d curled into a bed of flowers for a nap, only to be stabbed in the butt by Honey, who wielded a small dagger with far too much glee. Clearly, Honey didn’t want him to miss the showdown. Meanwhile, Pudge sat like an eager child at story time—eyes wide, waiting for the next chapter of chaos to unfold.
“I just—” David hesitantly began, then stopped. “I just need a moment.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “So,” he said, cautiously. “You have a soul connection to the Shield King—who’s doing covert work in Luckland, apparently. You had a vision that pointed to Eostre Land, so you threw yourself into their twisted, perverse games as a cover to snoop around for a black box—which we aren’t even positive exists. And in the process, you committed an enormous crime against the most powerful thug in Luckland.”
Leveling his head, he looked at me.
