“Of course,” he says, without hesitation.
He starts reading, his voice warm and steady, the same way he used to read me to sleep as a child. I place my hand over his chest and let my shadowlight flow into him. In the mornings, I always hold back a little magic, conserving strength for the day, but tonight, I pour it all into the fight. I know it won’t rid him of the sickness—it never does—but I refuse to stop trying. If I can’t win, then at least I can keep it at bay.
His voice falters mid-sentence, and I glance up to find his eyes drifting shut. The book slips slightly in his hand. Carefully, I take it, marking his page, and set it on the table. I pull the blanket higher over him and pause. My father, once larger than life, who had seemed untouchable, indestructible, now looks so small beneath the blankets. My throat tightens until it almost hurts. Why is life so cruel to those who deserve better?
The walk back to my tower feels longer than usual. My chambers used to be closer, but when I was younger, I begged to move to the tower. The view from up there had always enchanted me. Eventually, my parents relented, and I’ve never given it up since.
The halls are quiet this time of night. Guards stand at intervals, and I smile at each of them. They bow back, always so proper. I hate it. That’s why I love training. In the sparring ring, they don’t treat me like Serenya the princess. They treat me likeSerenya the warrior. Once, I was fearedforwhat I could do on the battlefield. That Serenya may be gone, but sometimes, it’s nice to pretend she’s still here.
As I pass two guards laughing and speaking in hushed tones, I catch fragments of their conversation. “...came back from Elarion looking like they just came home from war.” My brows furrow, but I don’t linger.
I turn the next corner, colliding with a solid chest.
“Oof!” I stumble back and glance up.
Aren. His light brown hair brushes his shoulders. A neatly trimmed beard frames his jaw, and his deep blue eyes catch mine. Heat rises in my cheeks before I can stop it.
“Oh stars, I’m so sorry, Aren,” I laughnervously. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
His lips twitch. “It’s my fault, Princess.” He pauses. “You missed dinner. Is everything okay?”
No.“Yes. Something had come up. I was just heading back to my chambers.”
“May I walk you?”
The offer surprises me, though I find I don’t mind. Perhaps it would be nice to have some company.
“I’d like that,” I say with a small smile.
He falls into step beside me, keeping a respectful distance.
“So.” I glanceat him. “You were a soldier from Virid. What drew you to the Trials of the Fated?”
“My sister wanted me to enter, so I did. She was bedridden, and we couldn’t afford a healer strong enough to cure her illness. I knew if I won, I could get her the treatment sheneeded.” His tone is matter-of-fact, but his jaw tightens.
“So your goal is a healer, not the crown?” I ask carefully, no judgment, only curiosity.
“It was…” He keeps his eyes forward, clenching his fists. “My sister passed away a couple ofweeks ago.”
I come to a stop and turn to him. “You’re a good brother. Willing to participate in a deadly game for her. She was lucky to have you.” I don’t apologize or tell him it will get better, because I know how it feels to lose someone you love. And those words? They don’t actually help. Instead, I ask, “What was her name?”
For the first time, his expression softens, just slightly, but it’s enough.
“Adelise.”
“That’s beautiful.” I hesitate, then add. “Will you tell me about her?” I hope he doesn’t mind me asking. I know, if someone asked about Kallan, I wouldn’t hesitate to talk about him. No one ever has, though. But people like Adelise and Kallan deserve to be talked about—remembered.
We continue, and he tells me about his sister. She was only eight years old, andhe’d taken care of her since their parents passed. She loved riding horses before she became ill, and she loved to sing. My chest aches as I listen, as if his burdens add weight to my own already heavy list.
By the time we reach the stairs leading to my chambers, we are talking about the trouble he would get into growing up. I’m laughing at something Aren has said, but it abruptly dies when we reach the top, and I see them.
Koen and Torin.
“Isn’t a princess supposed to have a guard posted outside her chambers?” Koen drawls.
“Um…yeah,” Torin says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s supposed to be me tonight.”
What in the hells are they doing here? I don’t have the energy for this.
