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Hugh cleared his throat and crossed his arms. Despite being nearly a foot shorter than me and several inches shorter than Arden, he was still intimidating. Vincent pursed his lips even as he raised an eyebrow.

“That’s not how I would have sprung it on him,” he muttered.

Hugh shot him a glare but didn’t relax. Vincent merely shrugged and braided the bottom few inches of his hair, clearly keeping himself busy.

“Sprung what on me?” I kept my voice soft and level and my shoulders relaxed even as irritation rooted deep in my core.

“There is talk of merchant ships being attacked in the Passage,” Hugh said. “Vessels with both Tousir and Senona crests have been targeted. There is talk of the violence interrupting our own trade here, along the Loctos River, as that’s our direct line to Tousir.”

Irritation morphed to concern. “How many have been attacked?”

Had there been more since my father’s message while we were traveling? Hugh slowly raised one eyebrow, understanding I had known about at least one of them. His scent lashed out from him, soured with his frustration. I didn’t offer an apology, opting to stay silent for the time being.

“There was discussion about three,” Arden said, his focus flashing to Monique where she stood with Elise, Tabitha, and Amaria. Her cheeks were stained a dark red as she laughed with Amaria. “One was while we were traveling back from the Rite, and the others were shortly before it. All of them were in the Passage.”

Two more than I’d been told. I wondered if those had been Tousir ships. While we had long-standing trade agreements with both nations, we were more closely tied to Senona. Any attack on a Senona vessel would cause my father more worry for fear we would be drawn into any escalation. I schooled my features before any of the gnawing concern could surface. Thankfully, my scent didn’t betray me, either.

“Very well. If it will make you and the others more at ease, I will not protest a full guard while we are here.” Arden nodded before I’d even finished. “Amethyst is unused to the scrutiny. If you could be more discreet with her guard, I would appreciate it.”

Now he pursed his lips. For a minute, I thought he might push the matter, but with a quick glance toward Hugh, he relented. “You’ll need to discuss specifics for the equinox with Phillip.”

Once those continuing to the capital left tomorrow, I’d sit down with Phillip and Phoebe both and establish expectations for the next few weeks of us being here. I needed to discuss the options Senona had presented for keeping Amethyst close to her sister with Phoebe as well.

As if Hugh could hear the thoughts, he asked, “When do you plan to be in Embercrest for the coronation?”

“My father has requested we be there before the solstice. I expect the coronation will coincide with the celebration, though it might be before then as well.”

Neither of them voiced an objection or opinion. Vincent undid the small braid he’d created and pushed his hair over his shoulder, letting it fall down his back instead. I blew out a breath and let my focus return to Amethyst. She still sat on the edge of the fountain’s basin, Joseph near enough their knees brushed. Her smile was soft and hesitant, but her shoulders were relaxed. Hugh turned, too, and then stiffened. Where I was glad to see Amethyst relaxed, it was clear Hugh was feeling very possessive of his own omega.

Before anything could devolve into an altercation of some kind, I murmured, “Let us eat.”

30

AMETHYST

Ishuddered awake as his hand closed over my mouth, keeping my cry for help muted enough to not be heard past a few feet. The scream tore through me, loud enough to wake the dead.

Except no hands were on me. No weight was pushing me down, forcing me immobile while he touched me.

Not real, I thought desperately. Not real. He’s not real.

“Amethyst?” Callum’s voice was heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

The low light of an oil lamp flickered to life, casting the few feet around me in a soft warm glow. I twisted my hands into the bedding, slowly realizing it wasn’t the utilitarian quilt in my apartment I pulled out during the winter that I hadn’t gotten around to packing away. This blanket was softer and heavier, a green that read nearly black in the low light. My clothes were different, too, a thin nightgown with short sleeves and made from a fabric that absorbed my sweat without leaving me itchy.

There was movement next to me, and I squeaked, pulling the blanket high enough to cocoon me like it was armor. A flash of blond hair kept me from screaming again, even louder. Blond hair, not brown.

“Not Brendon,” I whispered, trying to believe it.

“Who’s Brendon?” Callum asked. He pushed up to his elbow, his eyebrows furrowing. His hair was loose, falling over his shoulder and onto the plush pillow.

Memories from the night before, the weeks before, started bubbling to the surface. Smiling with Jospeh, watching Tabitha with wonder while she flew at the end of the feast, taking off all the jewelry and the circlet and falling into bed before Callum had finished chatting with Vincent and some of the others. I tried to hold onto them, make them more real than the dream.

“J-just a dream,” I gasped, more for myself. I pressed my hand into my chest. My eyes fluttered closed, but all I could see was Brendon’s sneer. I forced them open even as I whined. “Just a dream.”

Callum nodded, though his eyes were still full of concern.

“You dream of things that scare you?” He didn’t seem particularly disturbed at that possibility.