Page 12 of Ravenrose

Miselys may not have attacked yet, but by the way Fel is acting, and the wedding getting pushed up… the situation has to be serious. Especially if it’s messing up all of Father’s carefully laid plans.

“Kane and his men are en route to… collect you.” Fel’s eyes flicker to mine before exchanging a look with Riven.

I don’t flinch at the sound of my fiancé’s name. Kane. He’s practically a stranger. I haven’t seen the male in years now… The prince I’ll soon call my husband. I chew my cheek, taking in the news. This is it. It’s really happening. An alliance with Skye through my hand will strengthen our kingdom, extending far greater protection to everyone I care about. I can cry, scream, yell, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because I will marry Kane. No one will have to force me. No, I’ll do so willingly because it’s what is best for Sitara. If marrying Kane gives us soldiers, weapons, and aid from Skye, then I know what I have to do.

“When?” My voice sounds strangely detached as I feel myself slipping back into that increasingly familiar, joyless apathy in order to cope with the overwhelming outlook of my future.

Fel eyes me warily, as if waiting for the explosion. “We’re to leave for Canton fort the day after tomorrow. Kane…” He trails off, still assessing my reaction closely, or well, in this case, my lack thereof. “Kane will meet us there and take you back to Skye, where the two of you will be wed.”

“The wedding won’t be in Sitara?” Riven demands.

Fel shakes his head, his expression grave. “There isn’t time.”

Riven and I exchange a look, and I know he and I are on the same page, one benefit of being twins, and both of us are thinking the same thing: this is certainly suspicious.

I consider it; Sitara isn’t the only kingdom at odds with Miselys. “Skye hates Miselys as much as we do.”

Fel’s jaw tightens. “More.”

The Sea Kingdom and the Iron Kingdom have long clashed with each other. King Mavros of Miselys has spent decades contesting Skye’s waters, which Skye vehemently defends. Perhaps he’s even sent his assassins to Skye too.

Suddenly, it all makes sense.

The engagement. The wedding. The timing.

Sure, a union between Sitara and Skye would bolster Sitara’s forces and provide much-needed protection, but more importantly for Skye, it’s a declaration.

Or rather a warning. An all out threat to the Salt crown.

“Because of Mom?” I ask quietly, watching Riven and Fel’s faces as they too put the pieces together. “They know I have a claim?”

“Father must have told them,” Fel says grimly.

“Told them?” Riven scoffs. “Something tells me it was his selling point.”

I wrinkle my nose at the idea of them bartering over me like some prized broodmare. “Do you think he advertised all of the assassination attempts, or did he keep those close to the vest?” My bitter thoughts escape out loud.

An heir, a spare, and a daughter to sell.

My mother was a distant cousin to the Salt king himself, leaving Riven and me with a tiny drop of Miselyian royal blood running through our veins. Not Fel, considering his mother died in childbirth years before our father married my mother. King Mavros has never cared how distant our claim might be, given how often he’s attempted to kill us over the years. A drop of blood is more than enough to satisfy the tethering and claim the Salt throne.

I’m quiet. My thoughts are racing too quickly for me to keep up.

My bloodline is valuable, making me especially desirable to an heir like Kane. Any child of ours would not only have a claim to the Skye line of power, but to Sitara and Miselys as well.

“So Father gets an army, and Skye finally gains an upperhand on Mavros after all these years?” Riven smiles, though it’s the bitter kind that doesn’t touch his eyes. “I’m liking this arrangement less and less.”

“But Miselys has an heir?” I ask, confused. “Mavros has a son… Cove?”

“He does, but a claim is still a claim.” Fel answers. “Father has been pushing further east, stepping on Mavros’ toes… If he, or Skye, were to attack… take out Cove…” He shrugs, like talk of violating the Tethering Covenant and plotting the death of another kingdom’s heir is little more than moving pieces across a chess board. “And of course, with the rumors circling about the Skye king’s health…. Mavros is growing increasingly paranoid.”

“Which explains the increase of soldiers on the border,” Riven muses coldly, and Fel nods.

Weaponizing my mother’s blood. My blood. I clench my fists.

“But the timing…” Fel’s frown deepens. “With all this unrest with Kovaria, and more and more raids along the Daekhar border, our army is stretched too far. If Mavros decides to attack,” he swallows hard, “we’ll survive… but not without first sustaining heavy losses. Heavy civilian losses.” His eyes find mine.

Not numbers on a battlefield, not pieces moved across a playing board, but mothers… children.