Mama glanced over Amara’s shoulder, frowning. “Eat, my boy.”
Great, now there were two of them.
When Amara had lifted the charm on our memories, she and Mama had both cried tears of joy at their reunion. I’d onlyfelt emptier. Less of me feltrighteven though my mama had reassured me that I was no less hers, that shared blood alone did not make a family.
There were now fragmented memories of Amara visiting us, posing as my father’s sister. I’d been too young to understand the weight of her presence.
I hadn’t liked seeing the confusion cross my mother’s face when the veil had been pulled back. She had lived so long under the guise of magic. What other evils could such magic could do?
I shook that thought away.
Magic was still forbidden in the North Corridor.
Sybilla would tell me that should change.
I was not so sure.
“It’s just been a long day, Mama,” I reassured her. “I’m fine, just feeling a bit green.”
With doubt in her eyes, she said, “If you say so, my love. Why are the two lords from the Central Corridor here?” My mama wasn’t unwise—she knew Haward and Barden had long spoken out against Sybilla’s rule.
“As lords in the Central Corridor, they hope that their support ‘adds legitimacy to my claim on the crown,’ as they put it,”I told her. “They could be useful.” Haward and Barden were weasels. But they were great at shaking hands.
My mama pursed her lips, seeming skeptical. I was, too, but I needed to be accepted by the stakeholders in this Corridor. Sybilla’s cousins had invited numerous lords and ladies of the North Corridor—I couldn’t remember a single name.
My eye caught on one woman who stood out amongst them. She wore a burgundy veil, which she had not removed for dinner. The fabric looked charmed to obscure her face—how appealing. I’d give anything to be able to hide. I hadn’t been introduced to her, so she must have been escorted in late.
A prickle of cold hit the back of my neck. It was sudden and chilling, as though someone had let in a draft—though no window was open.
How odd...
The northern nobles filtered out as soon as dinner plates had been cleared, and I didn’t offer drinks or cigars in the sitting room. Amara agreed to see my mama up to her bedchamber. They chatted all the way up the stairs. Haward and Barden lingered.
Apparently, no one had told them it was rude to loiter about a royal’s home—then again, that had always been their way. Barden stood behind Haward, looking nervous as usual.
“Can I help you, Haward?” I asked.
“Yes. I was waiting for a good time to introduce you to someone. She is the Lady of High Tower. That is a township a few miles east of here.”
“I do own a map, Haward,” I said and gritted my teeth.Play nice.
He nodded. “Then you know that she owns one of the largest estates in the North. She has requested to speak with you. So bepolite.” Haward held his arm out toward the door.
When I stepped inside the drawing room, a petite figure, clad in a dark-burgundy cloak with the hood up, ran a gloved finger along a golden bust of a horse’s head.
The veiled woman rounded the room and took in the books on the shelves—her movement eerily smooth. None of her skin was visible, and where her features should be, there were only shadows.
Hayward continued, “This is Lady Ryssa of High Tower. She tells us she has extensive experience in Source law. Should you need an advisor to help manage the changing landscape of the realm, she could be of great help.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, King Mattock.” Her voice was distorted, and it rippled at the edges through the veil. I grimaced at my new title and new surname.
My late “father” had let Firose infiltrate his throne...his mind. Now I had to share his name as if he meant something to me.
“It’s customary to lower your hood when speaking to a royal, is it not?” I asked. Distrust itched at my stomach.
Lady Ryssa drew in a deep breath and stilled. Her body language showed discomfort but no threat.
Barden explained, “Lady Ryssa told us she suffered scarring and burns as a child.”
