Page 121 of A Reign of Chromes & Shadows

“Yes, Your Highness,” the aetherial soldier said as they rose.

“Moe,” he added, turning to the mortal, “wake Shailon. Relay His Highness’s request. Then wake M’Harrah. Tell her to contact the palace and get His Majesty on the line.”

“Yes, sir.” Moe saluted, bowed to Rain, and sprinted into the camp.

The aetherial turned back to Rain, offering his hand.

“Your Highness, I am Duke Henry Rosenberry.”

Rain shook it, surprised by the strength in the man’s grip.

“A duke serving in the Pink army?” Rain asked. “Is that common practice?”

“Yes,” Henry replied with a nod. “Here in the Pink Kingdom, all Aetherials give fifty years of service to our king. Some of us choose to stay longer. This is my one hundred and tenth year.”

Rain’s brows lifted.

“We believe it gives us perspective,” Henry continued. “To live and serve alongside our civilians. It has helped us maintain peace; unlike other kingdoms.”

Rain exhaled softly.

“Interesting.”

He meant it.

But his mind was too fogged with exhaustion and responsibility to explore the topic further. Everything hinged on what happened next. He was in ally territory, yes but he couldn’t relax. Not until he knew King Taffy would honour his request and keep his secrets from Azrien.

He prayed the Pink King’s fascination with him would work in his favour.

“Your Highness,” Henry said, “would you like to invite your company to rest within the camp? We can accommodate you while we arrange transport.”

Rain’s body screamed yes.

But he couldn’t risk it.

The princesses’ identities had to remain hidden.

Scarlet and Rose were unstable.

Briar was dangerous.

Ember was vulnerable.

And Rain would not risk a single Pink civilian.

“Thank you, Duke,” Rain said. “But we are in a hurry. Half of my company is vulnerable and unstable. I need to get them to our drop-off point as soon as possible.”

Henry nodded, curiosity flickering in his aura but he didn’t pry.

Another energy signature approached: alert, self-important, and mildly irritated. Rain turned toward it as a short, plump man waddled into view, adjusting his uniform with unnecessary flourish.

Henry straightened.

“Ah. Captain Shailon.”

“Welcome, Your Highness!”

Captain Shailon threw himself to his knees with such theatrical enthusiasm that his round belly wobbled beneath him. He balanced there, breathless, beaming up at Rain as though greeting a long-lost deity.