With just his name uttered, the room stills. I haven't heard such a forceful tone from Soren before. He clearly means business and is seizing this opportunity to advance Ronan's marital status.
Soren rises from his seat. The rest of us hop up as is customary. This meeting is over, a decision made, a plan in place. The king glances across the table and meets Thrane's awaiting gaze. "I will have royal invitations dispatched by the end of this week. A Winter Solstice wedding. That should draw them all out."
He looks down at Ronan who is the only one who didn't rise. Ronan looks positively sick and I can't blame him. My stomach is in knots for him. Soren once again presses his hand to his son's shoulder, this time though, he doesn't flick him off.
"Right now, you can be angry," Soren says softly. "Tomorrow, our search for your future wife begins. Being a Delaney is not easy." When Ronan doesn't acknowledge him, a flash of sorrow streaks across the king's face. He retrieves his hand. "We all have our duty to the crown, to our people. This is yours."
With those final words, Soren and his team of personal guards leave.
Words fail to come to mind in how I can possibly comfort Ronan. I look up at Atlas but don't see the pity I hold for his cousin reflected in his face. My eyes dart to Nyx and his head hangs. Sure, we all knew this day would come, but Ronan thought he had more time. He's been blindsided and I'm afraid he's going to connect the dots and blame Thrane for his sentence.
As if my thoughts alone trigger Ronan, he whips his neck in Thrane's direction. Fury. Fear. Confusion. He's an emotional storm and I'm afraid he's about to lash out.
"Ronan," I don't get another word in because the prince snaps.
He erupts from his chair, knocking it over, and points an accusatory finger at my cousin. "This is all your fault! Had you not mentioned a wedding – "
"My dear, Ronan, I never mentioned a wedding," Thrane clasps his hands behinds his back. "You did."
Ronan's mouth drops open. I can see he's replaying the meeting in his mind and when he realizes Thrane's right, fire ignites in his hands and sprints up his arms.
Holy shit. Is he about to attack Thrane?
"Rone!" Nyx shouts. Ronan stares at him and the pain in his brown eyes cleaves me in two. "Don't do it."
His chest rises and falls rapidly, his mind spiraling. He swallows hard and extinguishes the flames licking up his arms. Denying Thrane a second glance, Ronan storms out of the room and slams the door behind him.
I shoot Nyx a concerned look. Ronan is normally pretty calm and in control of his fire magic, but I'm afraid this might send him over the edge, and he might be a danger to himself or others. Hell, at this rate, he could burn half of Starnborough down.
"I'm on it." Nyx is quick on Ronan's heels. If anyone can calm the crown prince down, it's him.
Atlas drapes his arms across my shoulders and pulls me to his chest. I wrap my arms around his torso, but my eyes are fixed on Thrane as he exchanges words with my mother and Kamari.
It's frightening how conniving and calculating he can be and not lose sleep over manipulating situations or lives to suit his agenda. Part of me questions if I can fully trust him but I immediately purge those thoughts from my mind. He's a king. A new one at that. He has to ensure the safety of our people and in this circumstance, he has to think about the good of the realm. If he and Soren agree the other rulers won't travel here unless it's for a wedding or royal death, then I will have to believe them. I'm not in their shoes. I don't shoulder their burdens. I have my own to bear.
As much as my heart breaks for Ronan, we all have a part to play in this war. Some of us will fight and ultimately die for our realm. Others will marry and walk the fine line of duty to one's country, sacrificing all personal desires for the greater good.
Ronan has every right to be angry, but in the grand scheme of everything, his fate won't be the worst battle we face.
"Ready to go home?" Atlas whispers in my hair and I smile, tipping my chin up to look him in his gloriously handsome face.
"Ready."
Sixteen
Shaye
Walking into the Harland House is like breathing fresh air again. Oh, how I've missed this place.
With the colder temperatures here to stay, the interior of the row house has managed to become cozier. The fireplace is lit. The cushions on the chairs are puffed up and totally sinkable. There are fresh flowers on the dining room table – which will probably be the last bouquet until spring – and plates are set for dinner.
As if on cue, Finn and Eris bound through the kitchen door and their conversation is silenced when they see Atlas and I hanging our coats and placing our house keys on our hooks.
Eris beams at me. She plops the bundle of linen napkins she's carrying onto the table and beelines for me, wrapping me in the warmest hug. Although, we've only been apart a few days, her familiar scent of vanilla floods me and that's when it hits me. I'm home.
"We heard the dragons fly in!" she squeals. "What took you so long to get here?"
"Here as in Tronovia or – "
