The streets grew less crowded the farther we traveled from the square, until Layberry Inn came into view. Toreshire’s finest inn was surrounded by every person who hadn’t attended the spectacle in the square. Several soldiers in shining armor guarded the white porch, blocking boxes full of blossoming red and yellow flowers. I had never stepped foot inside the building but had always admired it from afar. Only the richest travelers stayed at Layberry Inn, and I was the furthest thing from rich.
At our approach, several soldiers moved through the crowd to clear a path. Armor polished to perfection reflected blinding rays when it caught the sun as they pushed the villagers back. Each chest plate was engraved with the king’s house crest—an eagle with wings stretched mid-flight—and capes of deep blue hung to the ground, fluttering in the gentle breeze. Every man was armed with a longsword at their hip, those on the inn’s steps casually rested a hand on the hilt, eyeing the swarm of onlookers doing their best to catch a glimpse of the king.
The lord passed through the cleared path with his nose in the air, full of superiority. I shuffled behind him, keeping my head down as the murmurs grew. The armor of the soldier who met us at the door was different to the others. Finer. He nodded respectfully to the lord who strode past, then narrowed his gaze on me.
I halted on the threshold, my heart beating wildly against my ribs—everything in me screamed to stop, to not go any farther. I shouldn’t be here. I should have taken Eleanor and run to Hutteran while we had the chance. Even if we couldn’t get all the way on the coin we had, even if she wasn’t ready, it was better than this—whateverthiswas.
“Miss Masters?” I turned at the uncertainty in Mr. Lyle’s voice. Still wringing his hands, his pale-faced gaze darted around us, and he implored me with his eyes to be amiable. Before I hada chance to listen to Toreshire’s leader, the soldier gripped my arm and dragged me into the building.
I couldn’t help but stare at the fine interior when we entered. The high ceilings were lined with exquisitely detailed molding. Beautiful chandeliers hung low, warming the space with at least twenty candles. My worn slippers sank into the plush maroon rug running the length of the hall. I shifted on my feet, woefully underdressed for such an establishment in my stained clothes.
The soldier directed me to follow the lord past a grand mahogany desk and a spacious dining room until we reached a sitting room with an armchair and two red chaise lounges—one of which was occupied by King Terym.
I had no doubt this was the king, his deep-blue tunic made of such refinery that the lord’s clothes appeared plain. Younger than I expected, he appeared to be in his mid-to-late forties, his freshly shaven face smooth, nothing like the men who worked in the harvesting fields. Sandy-blond hair was parted down the center, each sleek side falling to curl lightly behind his ears, not a strand out of place.
The lord bowed low to the king, then sat in the armchair facing the room, hands steepled before him.
“Lord Orcan, it seems you were successful.” The king’s deep voice sent an involuntary shiver down my spine; I wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or fear. His attention locked on me, his expression soft as he gestured to lounge opposite him. “Come, have a seat, Miss …?”
I stared in what I hoped was cool blankness but didn’t respond, the last thing I wanted was for the king to know my name.
“Masters, Your Majesty. T-this is Adelia Masters.” Mr. Lyle spoke from behind me, too spineless to face the king directly. I scowled back at him, and he flinched away from my ire.
“Miss Masters?” I met the king’s kind gaze, narrowing my eyes slightly. The soldier’s hand on my arm tightened to the point of pain, forcing me to respond. I would have to play along until I could find a way out of this mess.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” I attempted a curtsy, but the soldier’s grip held me too upright for it to be considered as such. The king nodded to the soldier, who guided me to the lounge opposite and pushed me onto the plush cushions. Orcan’s eyes never left me. As the lord of the Eastern Territory bordering Mortremon, he was the king’s closest adviser.
“Thank you, Captain. Mr. Lyle.” Toreshire’s anxious leader scurried from the room, swiftly followed by the captain.
I clasped my hands together, using the tight grasp to ground me as I waited for one of the men to explain why I was here. Rumors over the past few days indicated the king was after a new bride, but the questions I’d been asked told me it was something more. Not only was I the oldest woman in the square, but my seeing death had nothing to do with the ability to bear an heir.
Terym’s eyes twinkled when he gestured to a small table laden with a teapot and a wide assortment of sweets. “Would you like some refreshments? Tea or cake?”
I shook my head stiffly. Layberry Inn’s matron was known for her delicious treats, so had it been any other day, I would have jumped at the chance to try one. I wouldn’t be able to get any of the sweets down with my stomach curling so violently, my throat thick from the unknown of my current situation.
Terym flashed a sympathetic smile and leaned back, an ankle resting over his opposite knee. “I’m sure this is all quite confusing. All will be revealed shortly.”
He directed his attention to Lord Orcan, who’d been quiet since we entered the room. “She meets all the requirements?”
“Every one, my king.”
Terym hummed, then blue eyes latched onto me again. “How old are you, my dear?”
I glanced toward the lord, hadn’t he just said I met all the requirements? Was my age so important? “Twenty-five … my king.” I added the title as an afterthought, perhaps it would gain me some favor.
A strange gleam appeared in Terym’s eyes, but he blinked and it was gone, making me question if I’d seen it at all. “What do you know of the war?”
The question supported my suspicions further since the war had nothing to do with the king’s need for a wife. I chose my words carefully. “We’ve been in disagreement with Mortremon for over a decade and conflict has worsened in the last few years.”
Terym nodded and leaned forward. “King Siro is relentless in his fight for dominance. Corrupt. He accessed an ancient dark magic and cursed my armies.” My lips parted with surprise, and the king’s words grew strangled. “Every day, more and more of his men are crossing our borders, torturing my people.”
He couldn’t be speaking truth—magic? Everyone knew magic once graced our land, but it disappeared centuries ago. Cast away by the Gods who deemed humans no longer worthy. My mother had once told me King Siro was searching for a way to get it back, but always spoke as if it were to bring peace, that Siro wanted harmony between our kingdoms more than anything. She had lied about so many things I wouldn’t be surprised if she lied about this too. If Terym was telling the truth, it was doing the opposite and bringing death and destruction instead.
“What does that have to do with me?” I asked tentatively.
“Every curse has a failsafe, a way to stop it. In this case, a woman who meets certain criteria.” His eyebrows lifted and he nodded to me.
I couldn’t stop my incredulous chuckle at what he implied. “You think I’m that one?” When a pitying smile crossed his features, I shook my head vigorously. “No. I don’t know magic. I don’t—I’m a tavern wench, nothing special.”
