She shook her head once more. “I can’t have my people hate me as much as yours do.”
His head turned slightly, pale eyes catching hers. “Your people could never hate you, and mine don’t know you.”
Her throat tightened. “And you do?”
Val-Theris’s jaw shifted. “Better than I should,” he said, his voice roughened.
She turned toward him, her shawl brushing lightly against his arm, and the air sharpened instantly—the heat of proximity too molten to ignore.
He reached for her hand, and she let him. His thumb traced small circles against her knuckles, his gaze locked on hers like he was memorizing her face. Then, he placed a chaste kiss to her hand before pressing her palm gently to his chest over the steady, thunderous beat of his heart.
“I cannot promise we will convince the others in the council to share our cause, but by my heart, Lady Jesenia, I swear to you I will do what I can for Lunareth.”
She felt in the weight of his words that he meant more than just a promise that her people would eat, but knew there was so much he was unable to say.
FOURTEEN
Jesenia stood near the plaza,her arms full of freshly cleaned folded linens, when a sound rolled down the narrow streets. It was a jagged, uneven roar that split into fragments she couldn’t yet make out. Then came the pounding of boots against cobblestone, the rush of bodies pressing into one another, voices rising sharp and panicked into the cool air.
She dropped the linens without thinking, weaving through the cluster of people until the street opened into a corridor of chaos.
It was worry over grain rations. The commotion always began with food.
Dozens of Solmiris’s citizens surged against the low market walls, their anger loud and sharp as they shouted accusations at the refugees clustered defensively near the steps. Someone had screamedthief, and the word caught like fire in hay. Stones clattered against the worn brick, children cried, and hands gripped whatever they could find to hold as weapons.
And then the banners appeared—crimson and ivory, theHastatimoving in formation, halberds catching the weak sunlight. Val-Theris was with them.
He walked ahead of the line of soldiers, pale wings drawn wide, his presence like thunder rolling into the storm. The sound of him moving through the crowd wasn’t just command, it was gravity, pulling everything into stillness as he passed.
The citizens fell back in restless murmurs, some lowering their fists, others shifting uneasily but refusing to yield. Jesenia saw the soldiers form a shielded line at the base of the steps, keeping the two groups apart, the hum of tension vibrating sharp beneath the quiet.
One of the merchants spat toward the ground at Val-Theris’s feet.
“Protecting them again,” the man said, his voice rough, bitter. Val-Theris’s head lifted, his gaze steady and unyielding as he turned to face the man directly. A soldier stepped forward to detain the man, but the king stopped him with a raised hand.
“We are one people within these walls,” he said, his voice calm but edged in steel, carrying easily through the square.
The merchant’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more.
Behind the wall of guards, Jesenia pushed her way forward, her shawl clutched tightly around her shoulders. She’d thought—foolishly, perhaps—that staying quiet would keep her unseen, but the closer she came to the king, the louder the whispers, darting like embers through the crowd.
Lunarethians spoke with awe:That’s her. The Angel’s voice. She walks the palace halls.
And then, sharper from the Imperial edge of the square:The foreigner. She speaks in his ear. This is her doing.
Heat prickled against Jesenia’s skin, her pulse rising beneath the weight of too many eyes. She wanted to melt back into shadow, but Val-Theris’s gaze had already found her, and that single look only spurred the unrest forward.
The riot didn’t break. The air remained sharp and dangerous, the threat of violence lingering above them all. The guards begandispersing citizens in either direction, separating Imperial-born from refugees, voices hard and clipped as they forced distance.
“Get her out of here,” Val-Theris murmured low but firm to Rohannes. The words reached Jesenia across the space between them, and for a heartbeat, she froze.
Rohannes approached, gesturing her toward the palace gates beyond the plaza, but she shook her head, her voice breaking out sharper than she intended.
“I’m not leaving them.”
Rohannes glanced toward Val-Theris for confirmation. He met Jesenia’s eyes for a measured moment before giving a single small nod. He had more important things to worry about, and Jesenia knew this argument was not worth the time. The rise of clashing voices already swallowed them both whole, and bodies pressed against bodies separated them in the narrow streets.
Solmiris’s citizens shoved against refugee barricades, steel and wood slamming against makeshift shields, voices sharp with fear and hatred. Jesenia moved through the chaos with her shawl drawn tight, weaving between frightened children and screaming mothers, shouting until her voice was raw, trying to pull her people back from the fray.
