My chest tightened, and I admitted, “I’d like that. I’ve already refurbished the flat above the stables—it is where I stay when I don’t come back to Luz.”
Or when the warmth of someone’s bed did not help me forget. There were some things a good tryst couldn’t solve or erase.
But Fen didn’t need to know that.
He offered me a weak smile. “Well, it’s settled. Lamoreaux is yours. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Swallowing hard, I stared at my brother. His eyes crinkled at the sides with fondness.
Reconnecting with him so late in life sometimes proved awkward. Beneath his gaze, I often felt like the flighty seventeen-year-old girl with aimless aspirations that he’d left behind. I was growing more steadfast and committed to a direction each year. For the first time, he faced a new version of me.
Having a place of my own as sacred to my family as Lamoreaux? That sort of gift overwhelmed me.
“You look like you’re about to hug me. So let’s go,” he said. Before he could step away, I flung my arms around his middle. He grunted in protest before embracing me. “You’re crushing me.”
Tears threatened as I released him.
He glanced down at where mud now coated his tunic, too. “Look what you’ve gone and done.”
“There will always be a room for you and Asterie there, though. It is your home, too.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got a promise to fulfill. I told my betrothed that I’d show her every crevice of this realm before we settle anywhere. You have a good century before we come knocking.”
“I don’t want to hear about the crevices you’re showing her, Fen.”
His snort cut through the sentimentality of the moment, and we made our way back to the Egress to see our royal friends in Luz.
Chapter 2
Elsedora
With mud-crusted boots and a filthy tunic, I entered the pristine entry of the Palace of Luz to find my dearest friend kneeling to relight a candle around the memorial statues. Realizing I’d tracked dirt across the white marble tile, I winced. Fen kicked his boots off at the door, having anticipated the mess.
King Krait Darvanda and his wife, Queen Sybilla Wymark, summered in Luz and spent their winters in Sahlmsara. Egress travel allowed them to continue attending to matters in both kingdoms.
I typically avoided loitering in the grand entry. There, two bronze statues stood, depicting Prince Rynall and Princess Freya Toth of Phynx. Their forms were welded to a platform in between the grand staircase. A dome dotted with skylights illuminated them by day, and candles never ceased to burn in their honor by night.
Wishing for Krait’s strength in grief, I glanced up only briefly before focusing back on my dirt tracks. The portrayal of my former friend and lover didn’t sit well with me.
All wrong.
Ryn would want me to focus on the upsides—they’d at least gotten his smile right.
He wouldn’t want me to linger on the way his mouth had hung open in shock just before the Death Origin had taken him from me, or the memory of his face crumbling to dust.
His wickedly handsome grin struck my heart like a dagger; that beaming expression would never grace me again. The statue’s hair should be silver and not burnished bronze. His nose was too straight.
The Ryn I knew had never been so still. The wrongness of every fine detail made my throat burn. I’d only let myself stare at that statue once.
“You made it back,” Krait said, sounding surprised. I glanced up, and he motioned for me and Fen to follow him down the main hallway. I could hug him for understanding my desire to leave the entryway.
He found comfort in remembering. I did not.
“Fenris, join us for tea?”
Fen slapped Krait on the shoulder. “I’m going to clean up and find Asterie. But I’ll see you both for dinner.” He ventured up the stairway, appearing entirely in his element.
The royal courts had built my brother. I’d always preferred our countryside childhood home, where the wildflowers spread in spring and the snow coated the blooming plum orchards in the winter. And now it would bemine.
