Valenna couldn’t answer this question. She had wondered for years why she hadn’t killed Evandaine. It kept her awake in the night, and when she was at her worst, loathing herself and repeating the cruel words her father had hissed at her when she was a child, she clung to that strange, mysterious decision. There was a glimmer of the Only’s goodness in it.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said heavily. “He died anyway, a few days later.”
She didn’t mention how the prince, his hands clumsy from her terrible beating, bound her wound, or how she rested her head on his shoulder and felt him press her against his body. She left out how she’d been mucking a stall when she heard he died, and she had vomited on the dirt floor.
Valenna continued. “I waited until the battlefield cleared, then I slipped away in the darkness. I stole a dragon and flew over the mountains, and somehow, by the grace of the Only, I happened upon a farmer in Allagesh who took me in for a few weeks until I was well enough to travel to Largotia. I mucked stalls at the dracorium there before I rose to trainer.And then I was assigned to work with this devastatingly handsome man who ruined my life.”
“Who?” Evander asked.
Valenna stared at him, trying to determine if he was serious. “You, Vander!”
“Oh.” He let out an abashed laugh. “Devastatingly handsome?”
She pressed on, refusing to be distracted. “I had this perfect plan to find my sister and see her on the throne. I would use my magic to overthrow our father, then Olivette could take the crown, and I was so, so close to finding her when I met you and got distracted. I tried again after you left, but the trail went cold. I’d hoped to find some sign of her here. Obviously, there was no sign.”
“I’m sorry, Val.” He finished bandaging her arm and stood, his shoulders rigid.
“No one can know about my magic or my parents, Vander. Please. I’m not ready to return yet. I need more time.”
“Of course I’m not going to tell anyone,” Evander said, with an edge of irritation. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it as he paced the room, running his hands through his hair.
“I wish you would be angry,” she said. “I wish you would shout at me.”
“Do you want me to shout at you?”
“A little, maybe.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t like shouting.”
“Blast you, Vander! Tell me what you’re thinking! Do you hate me? Are you disgusted with me? What?”
“I think that I need to think.” He walked to the window and opened the curtains.
“What are you doing?” Valenna asked.
“Thomasina’s downstairs. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.” He looked down, then studied the tree outside. “I think I’d better go this way.”
“You’re going to fall and kill yourself,” she hissed, but he was already halfway out the window. Below, the festival wheeled over the dracorium grounds, glimmering gold under the magical light of the pixie bugs. Evander swung out onto a tree branch.
“If you fall and crack your head again, I’ll kill you,” Valenna said.
He started to climb nimbly down the tree.
“Vander,” she called after him. He sprang up, standing on a lower branch, his arms resting on another parallel to the window. “Does this change things between us?”
“You mean, are we still cold and antagonistic toward one another? We can be if you want us to be.”
She rolled her eyes.
He looked grave—and something else. Evasive? Guilty? “I’m glad you told me, and I’m not angry. But let’s talk about it after I return from the plains.”
She started back. “Why are you going to the plains?”
“That’s why I came to your room,” he said. “The group coming with the yearlings from Cobblepine lost a dragon on the way, of course, and they want me to take time out of my entirely free schedule to go find it.”
Valenna was surprised at how devastated this news left her. “How long will you be gone?” she asked, her voice faltering.
“A few days,” he said. “I assume you’ll be gone when I return.”
