Part One
The Meeting
1
Dayton
“I’d rather slice off my own cock than have anything to do with that boring, pasty-faced, quill-brained Autumn Prince.”
Muscles clench in Damocles’s jaw as he no doubt nearly bites his tongue off to stop himself from an equally crude retort. My eldest brother detests vulgar language, especially in Soltide Keep.
I find it hard to get my point across without it.
The High Prince of Summer sits straight-backed on the Coral Throne, his golden crown catching the last slanting rays of the setting sun. A misty evening breeze drifts in from the large open windows that lead to the sea, carrying the briny scent of salt and distant storms. I wish I could be out there now, swimming or sailing on my skiff. Anywhere but in this prison of a room.
The Coral Throne is a monstrous thing—twisting, spiraling columns of deep pink and bloodred coral fused together, half-grown, half-constructed. It looks torn from the ocean’s depths rather than built for a ruler. Jagged edges glisten with seawater, and tiny pearls gleam in the rough coral, embedded like captured stars. The back curves high overhead, a tangled latticeof ivory and shell, casting strange, netlike shadows across the marble.
I shift where I stand, uncomfortable just looking at it. Damocles graces it as if it were made for him. I suppose it was in a way. If I sat there, the coral would probably bite into my skin. But not him. The throne and the prince suit each other—beautiful, sharp, and impossible to grasp without bleeding. Especially when my brother summons me for one of his terrible ideas.
“Daytonales,” Damocles says, always sure to use my full name, “it is far past time you take your position in this family seriously. Farron is heir to Autumn’s Blessing, and you, as a third-born son, would be smartly matched to him.”
I don’t bother hiding my groan—there’s no one around to hear it. Damocles always clears out the court before these talks, as if he expects me to say something stupid and shatter his prestigious reputation.
“High Princess Niamh has nothing but praise for her son,” Damocles continues. “She says he is a studious?—”
“Boring.”
“Compassionate—”
“Bleeding heart.”
“Prudent—”
“Spineless.”
“—young man.” Damocles’s jaw clenches harder. “Though she wishes he would find a companion.”
“So, is that what you and the High Princess were scheming about when you visited Coppershire last month?”
“Being consort to a High Ruler is a privilege. Once Farron inherits Autumn’s Blessing, you would reside in Castletree itself.”
“Still right beside you, brother.” I flash him a smile.How you would love to keep me under your ever-watchful eye,Dammy.“If it’s such an honor, then why not give it to your heir, Decimus?”
“Decimus is Imperator of the Summer’s Legionnaires. This duty keeps him busy enough.”
And out of trouble,I finish the unspoken words in my head. Not that the middle brother of Summer has ever caused a stir for Damocles.
“Besides,” Damocles continues, “Decimus does not fancy men.”
“And this Autumn Prince does?”
“That remains unclear. Though Niamh and I theorized that if anyone could determine such a thing, it would be you. It appears the prince’s past romances have been limited.”
“So, he’s boring and a loser?”
“Daytonales, that is inappropriate talk for a Blessing’s heir. You have not seen the High Prince since you were both younglings.”
“Right, I might haveaccidentallysplashed him with a wave and got a little water on his book, which he hadn’t put down the entire festival. He called me a hideous toad and ran away crying. Doesn’t look like a match fated in the stars.”
