“You can’t. I need you in Kraggmar. We need this alliance.”
“My sister is more important than an alliance,” Prince Lupin seethed.
If that were true, they wouldn’t have sold her off, Lucy thought.
“I have heard whispers of an alliance. At risk of being impertinent, may I ask the details?” Basil asked.
“No point in hiding anything now,” the King sighed. “Lupin will be traveling to Kraggmar to bond with Princess Arietta before their marriage after the Harvest Ball.”
Lucy and Basil didn’t need telepathy to know they were thinking the same thing. Their princess had jumped to conclusions and run away from a marriage that was not hers. If the room weren’t so tense, she would have laughed. That misunderstanding and rash reaction were on brand for Esther.
“The King is right. The wedding must proceed to solidify our alliances. It would also be too dangerous to reveal the princess is out there without protection to anyone outside her close circle. I will take on the responsibility of searching for the princess.”
“You?” Lupin asked incredulously. “You're the one who collaborated in a lie about her escape.”
Lucy did not like the way the prince looked at Basil. The only ones who could disrespect him were Esther and herself—no one else. Not even the prince.
“He has the power to sense her magic and past experience leading the royal guard. And he cares about Esther. In fact, I’d wager he knows more about her than you,” she bit out.
“Finally decided to stop talking weird?” Basil whispered. She stomped on his toe, earning a pained grunt.
“It’s impossible with only one retired guard,” the King said. “I… don’t know what to do.”
Lucy’s heart panged. For once, the King simply looked human. At this moment, he was nothing more than a lost, worried father hoping his daughter was safe.
“I will request help from The Brass Sparrow,” Basil said, emphasizing the guild name.
“The Brass Sparrow? The most elite guild that doesn’t bow to anyone, even royal power? How will you get their help?” Lucy asked theatrically, despite no longer needing to act.
“I have personal relations with the guild master. He’s my brother-in-law. We’ve remained close even after my wife’s death.”
“And I’ll go with! I’ve spent from dawn to dusk with the princess every day for the past… how many years? If anyone can recognize her from afar, it’s me.”
“I will put my trust in you, Sir Basil. Please, bring my daughter back.”
When Lucy left, she was sure she had seen the intimidating King of Valedara crying into a letter.
14
Nythir
How to recover: regret everything, then do it again tomorrow.
The sun rose far too early.
Stonehaven’s morning light pressed harshly against his eyelids, dragging Nythir awake to the muffled sound of retching in the adjoining room, the crackle of a dying hearth, and Vorrik’s rattling snores. The crisp bite of cold air poured through the window, carrying scents of baking bread, wet earth, and river wind.
Instead, he found himself dragged into a morning full of consequences and regret. Allowing Lyssara and Vorrik to drink unsupervised topped the list.
The air was sharp with early frost, every breath puffing white clouds as he exhaled. Stonehaven’s streets were barely waking—lanterns flickering low, shutters creaking open, and the distant clang of a blacksmith beginning the day echoing faintly across the river.
Stonehaven pretended to be quiet in the mornings, but it was never asleep. Stonehaven did this every morning—played at innocence while sharpening its teeth. The city was built on old stone and older secrets, layered atop each other like sediment. If you listened long enough, you could hear the past whispering through cracked walls and sewer grates.
People said the Information Guild merely listened. Nythir knew better. Listening was only the first step. Recording came next. Then deciding who lived long enough to regret what they’d said. Information flowed here the way water did through cracked stone—slow, steady, and impossible to fully dam.
Merchants traded rumors with their bread. Dockhands listened better than priests. And the Information Guild thrived because this city sat between too many borders, too many grudges, and too many roads that led somewhere dangerous.
Nythir trusted Stonehaven the way one trusted a blade: functional, familiar, and fully capable of cutting you if you grew careless.
