Fire burns in my chest despite the chill in my limbs as I press into the darkness. The lantern light reveals only what I direct it toward. I do not know what I seek. I have no aim. But if I must live with this unease, let it be useful.
Walking in by choice feels different. The charge in the air hums reverently. I do not tremble.
I search the shelves—intricate bindings, worn edges, thick with dust. No one has touched them in years.
Deeper still, I see the dagger—rough-hewn, primal. The memory of the solstice is still hazy. I wonder how something so raw could have pierced me.
Reaching behind the stone plinth, I find a warped leather-bound book. Its spine twisted, its cover distorted. I brush off the dust when a voice calls out.
“Your Majesty?”
Reluctantly, I move toward the gate. “Yes?” I ask, bracing.
“We’ve been ordered to return you to the king,” he gulps, “at once.”
The urgency unsettles me. They escort me swiftly up the private stairs and back to our chambers. I set the book on the desk and begin pacing, tension coiling with each step.
Vale arrives in a surge, shaking his head. “He’s mad. The man has gone mad,” he mutters.
We rush into one another’s arms, and he slows. “Maybe they’re all mad,” he exhales before fully turning to me. “The council seems relieved, though.” He tips his head back slightly in exasperation before forcing the tension down.
We sit together before the hearth, radiant heat thawing the chill brought in by midday storms.
“I tried speaking with our guest in the cell,” he says. “Let’s just say he was far from amiable. Prattling on about time. About power. Butwhen I pressed him…” Vale’s fists twist into knots. “He descends into drivel. A muttering trance. Words that aren’t his. Unnatural.”
He drags a hand through his hair and turns to me. “The council believes he is a madman acting alone. I don’t know. And with you—I won’t take risks.”
I reach for him and for the thought rising inside me. “No. Let’s take the risk.”
Concern flickers in his eyes.
“Let’s take a careful one,” I say steadily. “You have eyes and ears you trust. Let them watch. Let them listen. And let us see who moves when they think we are no longer afraid.”
From there, we begin to shape our plan.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Soria holds up gowns for me to approve before folding them into the trunk that will be sent ahead.
“I really don’t think I’ll need anything that formal,” I laugh when she presents the iridescent taffeta.
“You may be right,” she replies, laughing as she sets it aside.
Enough riding leathers to exhaust Bracken himself across the valley hills have already been packed, and truthfully, I’d be content with just those. Well—and a few of the more sensual nightdresses I certainly don’t mind having crafted for the honeymoon. A flush blooms across my cheeks as I remember that first night after the wedding… The way sheer fabric clung like a second skin, drawing out my boldest desires.
“A few of the lighter day dresses would be lovely,” I add, my smile softening as my eyes settle on the velvet ones—green, blue, brown—the ones that have marked so many becoming moments since my arrival. “Those, too. They seem fitting, from what I’ve heard of the valley.”
Soria nods, pleased to check off another task. She has worked tirelessly these past days to make sure I’d have anything and everything I could possibly need. The look on her face when I reminded her I once lived off the land with little more than the clothes on myback was priceless. I half expected her to stumble backward from the shock—though she managed only an exaggerated eye roll instead.
It feels odd to sit in the bedchamber I once called my own, now that every night belongs to the room Vale and I are making sovereign together.
The additions made there for my comfort have been beautiful—towering planters of lush greenery climbing the walls, soft tapestries, pillows, and throws making the space feel lighter and fresher. Still, I carry a fondness for this room. It was here I first found home… and more than that, found myself.
My fingers brush the embroidered design on the settee as I glance around, struck by a bittersweet sorrow to leave it behind—not just for the honeymoon, but for the days and nights to follow.
“What’s the manor like?” I ask Soria, hoping the promise of its serenity might make the leaving easier, even before we’ve gone.
“You’re going to love it,” she says, stepping to the open window and gazing toward the valley below. “I was fortunate to practically grow up there. The queen—Vale’s mother—wanted Aurienne to love the hills as much as she did. And with my mother tending to her, I was able to share in that beautiful upbringing.”
