Merfyn’s face contorts in a mix of anger and fear. “You’re a fool, Taran. You don’t have what it takes to be King—you won’t even use your power to keep your kingdom.”
Taran’s fingers clench around his blade, and he digs his elbow into Merfyn’s chest as he pushes him into the wall. Fury ignites in his eyes, twisting his features until he looks like a stranger, sending a chill down my spine. I start to reach for him, to beg him to calm down, but it’s too late.
“You will forget you were ever here. That you ever knew me.” Taran’s willbending hits heavy as Merfyn’s face goes slack, eyes blank. “You will return to your home, and you will never speak another word to anyone for the rest of your miserable life.”
Merfyn drops to the floor in a heap, then lifts his head, blinking in confusion. His mouth forms empty shapes, not a sound coming out.
“Get him out of here.” Taran’s voice echoes as he turns away.
Everyone scrambles to do it.
Chapter 37
Caeo
Less than three days until my wedding. I don’t have it in me to attend supper this evening, so I attempt to get food delivered, like Owena did last night. My throat twists, making me gag as I lie to the servant about feeling sick. But it works in my favor for once, and he returns shortly with a bowl of some kind of brothy soup and fruit. Not the most filling of meals, but worth avoiding my mother for.
I spend a large chunk of time lying in bed while whispering to myself, attempting to willbend, but it’s kind of pointless. My words don’tfeelany different, and there’s no way of knowing if I’ve succeeded—I can’t willbend myself, and my mother would undoubtedly hear about it if I practiced on other people. Not that I want to do that to anyone, anyway.
The next morning, sunlight smacks me awake through the open window. I drag myself over, eyeing the gardens below. If I can’t convince Owena to help me, it seems like the best I’ll be able to do is figure out where the largest gap between guards is and hope I can scale the wall faster than they can run.
My stomach tightens. I’m pretty sure I know where that is, but I’ll only have one shot. If I fail… I don’t want to think about what’ll happen. So I need to be sure. Find the best possible spot, and the best possible moment.
Once dressed, I open the door…
… and almost immediately shut it.
Mother’s right there. She isn’t even mid-knock. Just standing there, waiting for me.
I feign surprise. But not really, because Iamsurprised, my heart thundering against my ribs. I feignpleasantsurprise.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was told you seemed ill.” She looks me up and down. “It would appear you’re feeling better this morning.”
Could I knock her out faster than she can say ‘stop’? I’ve never punched anyone before, but it seems like she’d see it coming. And if she does, that’s it. I’ll have blown all other chances.
So I choose my words carefully. “I have more energy now.”
Her crimson lips press into a tight smile. “You’ll need it—we have a busy day. Come.” Her command echoes in my head, and my feet yank me after her as she turns down the hall.
Fuck.
Now that I’m aware of what’s happening, it’s so obvious. I tense my legs, fighting the forward pull of my feet, but it only makes me stumble. She eyes me, eyebrow raised, as I attempt a nonchalant recovery.
I can’t let her see me fighting it.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Breakfast. Then rehearsal.”
“Will Owena be there?” Seems like an appropriate question for someone who’s smitten.
Mother’s face tightens. “At the rehearsal, yes. But this will be your last meal with your mother as an unwed man. I am not sharing it.”
My brow furrows. “But the wedding’s not for two moredays…”
“After the rehearsal, the two of you will share a small meal before beginning a fast in isolation until the ceremony.”
