The walk back to the inn is quiet, the townspeople mostly keeping to themselves. Even this far out in the kingdom, the town seems accustomed enough to travelers that they don’t pay much attention to me.
My mind wanders to Leda, wondering if she’s made any gains in tracking down our missing patrols. Finding Nightfall may bemytop priority, but we still need our army.
We don’t know what Moros has planned, and killing him may not stop what’s already been set into motion. Not being able to know what’s going on with her bothers me more than I thought it would.
She was no one to me a few months ago—just the princess of Penyth. A legend—a scary story told of the ruthless, bloodthirsty daughter of the queen. Well, that’s at least one thing the stories got right: sheisbloodthirsty.
Leda is a warrior through and through, yet I can’t stop myself from worrying about how she’s doing and if she’s okay. But if there’s anyone who can handle themselves, it’s her.
I just hope she’s able to find the others before Daimon or one of Vidaris’s creatures finds her.
These thoughts plague my mind until, eventually, I find the bar. It’s quiet, with only a couple of patrons, one of them being Adrian—Graylen is nowhere to be seen.
Adrian is seated at the bar, his back to me, and from the looks of it, he found fresh clothing, too. My chest tightens as he glances over his shoulder at me. There’s a glaze over his eyes, andwhen he takes another sip of amber-colored liquid, I know he’s had his fair share of liquor.
It isn’t the look on his face that nearly knocks the wind out of me; it’s how much he resembles the boy I first met in the market. Before he was the prince, before he brought me to the castle and everything fell apart.
He looks so much like the friend I had once made that I can’t help but feel sadness for the friendship we lost. The things we felt for each other aside, he was once myfriend. And now, he’s a stranger.
Funny how your once-closest ally can become someone you pass and avoid eye contact with. How someone you once called a friend is now living their life without you, and you without them.
“Drink?” Adrian slurs, holding his cup up.
I hesitate, stuck between wanting to bolt back to my room or unwinding with a pint of ale.Fuck it. I give him a tight smile and decide the need for a drink outweighs my desire to run away.
The barkeep sets down a pint at almost the same moment I slide onto the stool. From the corner of my eye, I can see Adrian’s gaze on me. He isn’t drunk enough to sway in his seat, but he isn’t sober enough to hide what he’s feeling.
I drain the cup in ten big gulps, plopping it back on the bar and motioning for a refill. The liquid is bitter against my tongue, but not enough to get me to slow down. If I’m going to sit here, I need to beat leastas drunk as Adrian, if not more. Being sober beside the man I used to date sounds like a miserable way to spend my night.
“You look like the old you,” Adrian croaks, the words slurring in a single string.
Theold mehe fell for. The girl who desperately wanted to escape and thought he understood that. But instead, he did everything in his power to keep me caged.
Yeah. I need to be far less sober for this conversation.
The moment my cup is refilled, I take a few deep sips and bask in the small buzz that tingles in my head.
I sigh and finally turn to face Adrian. His eyes are so open that I have to look away.
“I was still me before I put this on,” I whisper. “I think who I became in Penyth is who I always was—you just didn’t want to see it. You decided to see me one way, and that was the only version in your head that made sense.”
His face twists, and he takes a long sip from the drink clenched in his hands, his knuckles turning white.
I lower my voice and lean forward, not wanting anyone to overhear. The only good thing about being in Crea is that there are no fae with sharp senses to overhear us.
“The only thing that changed when I went to Penyth was that I found ahome,” I whisper. “I found a family—foundmyself.”
Adrian sniffles and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Family,” he slurs. There’s no anger in the word, just…brokenness. “You left me.” His voice lowers, and he looks down at his drink, frowning. “Graylen, too. He was my closest friend—someone who was on my side because he chose to be. Not because of who I was.”
Adrian laughs bitterly and takes a deep swig until he empties the cup. “Though I guess he was my friend for my status after all since he was looking for you.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. As angry as I’ve been with Adrian, it’s hard to ignore the pinch of guilt that stabs at my chest.
“Everyone always leaves,” he mutters beneath his breath. He lifts his empty cup to the barkeep, motioning for another round. “Thus the weight of the crown.”
Despite wanting to hold on to my anger, it begins to slowly deflate. Each word Adrian utters is like a sword poking holes in a shallow wooden boat, the water seeping in until the whole thing goes under.
I still can’t find my words, but Adrian doesn’t seem to notice—so far into an alcohol-induced haze that he just keeps going.
