44. Soren
Chapter forty-four
Soren
“Who calls an emergency meeting the morning after a ball?” I yank open each drawer of my desk. I lift the books, set them down. I toss the cushion of my chair to the floor, and it slides to the edge of the room.
“Do you need help, Your Highness?” Hugo twists his fingers, the first time I’ve ever seen him flustered by my behavior. “The queen does not like to wait.”
I’m acting erratic, I know. But the council has demanded my presence, Lord Almar has requested I bring the pendant to the meeting—the pendant that is now missing —and Enna is gone.
She’s gone.
I can still taste sweet remnants of her cunt on my lips. And still she is not here.
She left her dress sitting in a pile on my desk this morning, taunting me with its emptiness. The shape of her—luminous and perfect—abandoned it, leaving a deflated heap, only good for proof that she was here.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I’d been a stupid, hopeful fool to think she would stay until morning. She’s slippery as shadows, and I will need to fight to pin her down—and even then, the likelihood of my success is slim. Enna isn’t the type to be pinned down. I can’t expect her to stand stoically at my side, take orders, and do what she’s told. I wouldn’t want her to.
What do I want from her?
I rub the sleep from my eyes, dragging a hand down my face, flexing the soreness from my jaw.
“Your Highness?”
I drop to the floor, crawling on my hands and knees. The cool marble does nothing to stave my rising panic. “The necklace, Hugo,” I growl. “Can’t find Amura’s godsdamn pendant.”
Hugo joins me on the floor, and we crawl around, our hands sweeping out in wide, reaching arcs.
“Can you spell for it? It’s naturally warm, is it not?”
I shake my head. “It’s an undetectable magic heirloom. I already tried.”
“And you’re sure it’s in this room?”
I slide my hand under the bed, finding nothing but dust. With a grunt, I lift the mattress, toppling it onto the floor.
“And nobody has been in here except for you?” Hugo stands, picking through the obvious pile of silk on my desk.
“Don’t touch that,” I snap.
Enna was here. What would the Abyssal shadow-guard want with that magical heirloom?
Hugo stiffens, removing his hands from her dress.
I clear my throat. “Apologies,” I say, softening my tone. “No one else was here.”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
I cross the room, stepping out onto the balcony. A waft of roses drift to me on the breeze, and I reach out to touch the twisting tendrils. A broken twig lies among the blooms, the wound fresh and green. I snap it from the vine, twirling it between my fingers with a frown.
A black cloud of dizziness creeps across my vision, and I stagger against the wall. Enna is different from the power-hungry females I’ve courted. Right?
She wouldn’t lure me in on a false premise, only to steal from my bedchamber.
She wouldn’t.
“We’re late for the council meeting, Your Highness. I’ll have your room searched later.” He holds out the empty velvet pouch, where the necklace should be. “I assume you want to keep this quiet?”
I nod, and he tucks the pouch into his sleeve.
The hallways echo with Enna’s absence at every turn as I storm toward the council room. My stomach grumbles, my muscles ache. I lick my lips, and her taste is still there.
Before me, guards scramble to open the doors to the council room in time for me to pass through them. The council members are already in their seats. Each one of them looks tired. Lord Almar is already nodding off. Lord Ruven’s eyes are tight. My mother sits at the head of the table, her face shallow with exhaustion.
I eye my empty chair, debating the consequences of standing for this meeting.
My mother lifts her hand. “Sit.”
I cross my arms, leaning onto the backrest. “Tell me what’s chewing your fins, council. I’m late for breakfast.”
The council shifts, their eyes darting to one another. Lady Myrrh clears her throat, a quiet, pitiful cough. “This council is once again concerned—”
Lord Varik barks a laugh. “Oh, let’s just get into it. That princess is a fraud.”
Lord Ruven grumbles, the minister of foreign affairs leaning back in his chair. He runs a hand over his stiff, gray beard. “Here we go.”
Lord Varik glares broadly at the room. “I’ve never met a princess who cannot dance.”
Lady Myrrh twirls a curl of her hair, pulling at the ends. “Disgraceful, certainly!” she huffs. “But nothing a few lessons couldn’t fix. Perhaps she just didn’t know the steps.”
“The housekeeper said the princess’s handmaid can dance, and better than her. Something isn’t right here. I smell a trap.”
I don’t like it, the mention of Enna on his sneering lips. I inhale, steadying my nerves.
“You shouldn’t have danced with her.”
“You had no problem handing her off to me last night.” Lord Varik narrows his eyes. “I did what I must, for the good of the kingdom. We cannot blindly give the seat of power to a dark-dweller without a thorough investigation. The past shows they are conniving and wicked; they’ll do anything to avenge their history. Our investigation prior to the matter wound up as a snack for a dredgebeast, so I’ve taken up the task personally.”
Lord Ruven’s fist meets the tabletop with a dull thud. “We’re so close to the wedding. Our prince doesn’t need encouragement to drop his betrothed now! We’ll hire a music tutor. No big deal.”
My mother massages her temple, closing her eyes. “It’s not just the dancing, Lord Ruven. I have my doubts. It’s also the weakness of her Voice and the extreme reliance on her magic-wielding handmaid.” Her eyes flash open. “It’s possible I made a mistake.”
“Oh, Your Majesty, how could you have known one way or the other?” Lady Myrrh gushes, eager to please.
Lord Varik sneers. “Odd, isn’t it, that she has a Voiced handmaid to begin with. What does the princess need such high security for?”
Lady Myrrh pouts. “Poor thing must have needed a friend, coming to a strange kingdom. I see no harm in it.”
“Fact is, she’s an Abyssal Princess.” Lord Ruven’s fist remains on the table, knuckles lightening with the force of his grip. “We need the connection to move toward more civil relations with the deep. I say, drop the whole matter and be done with it.”
“And risk the security of our kingdom? She might be a threat. An imposter. One of those death-dealers they breed in the dark.” Lord Varik scans the room, daring a challenger to speak.
Lady Myrrh gasps, her hands stilling in her hair. “The horror!”
The queen straightens in her chair. “I don’t like that I may have misjudged her quality, but I will not willingly walk our only heir into hostile hands. We must consider the possibility of malicious intent.”
Lord Almar shifts in his seat and clears his throat. The room stills, all eyes shifting to the old priest.
“Lord Almar, do you have something to share?” says the queen.
The old male smiles. “Mister Hugo?”
Hugo approaches the table, carrying that damn velvet pouch. He sets it onto the table gently enough to make no sound.
Lord Varik mutters under his breath, shrinking away from the pouch. “Barbaric. We already know she cannot be trusted. Why insist on bloodshed? We must dismiss her quietly.”
“Would you oust her on the basis of her waltz? This will produce solid proof.” Lord Almar’s gaze is smooth and cold. “If the Abyss has malicious intentions for our one and only heir, this is the only way to be sure of it.”
I stare into the soft folds of the velvet pouch and consider my choices. I could dismiss Aris quietly. A short conversation, and she’d be on her way back to the deep. We’d part on pleasant terms—a poor match of personality, we’d call it. No more wedding. No more Aris. No alliance.
No Enna. I drag a hand over my jaw. That won’t do.
“What of the alliance with the Abyss, if we dismiss their princess quietly?” I ask, buying more time for my decision.
Lord Ruven scowls. “Gone. Darksteel mines, influx of gold. All gone. We’d need another match to fortify our strength against the ensuing wrath of the Abyss. And your options are slim, Your Highness. We cannot risk it.”
I nod, considering his words. Around me, the council launches into argument, throwing their opinions at me, each one suggesting a way to secure our strength.
If I find the missing pendant, I could use it on Aris, test her intentions toward me with ancient, brutal magic to ease the council’s worries. And if she passes the test, the alliance with the Abyss will stand. Enna will remain here, caught in a royal love-triangle, and I’ll swim the current of my father before me, unhappy and angry at my fate, unable to love Enna with the open abandon she deserves. Unable to protect her.
Or Aris could fail the pendant’s test. I dismiss her publicly, out the Abyssal Kingdom for its subterfuge. There is no alliance, and Enna will…
She can stay here, if she wants to. Why can’t she?
“A match to fortify our strength,” I repeat to myself. If the Abyss retaliates, we’ll need a warrior queen, one who knows the enemy inside and out.
Would Enna side with us, if it came to war? Would she stay, if I asked her to?
I meet my mother’s watchful gaze across the table.
I cross my arms, firmly planting my feet. The council notices my movement, and their voices gradually settle down.
The pendant is missing. But the council doesn’t need to know that. I scoop up the empty pouch, tucking it into my pocket.
“I’ll use it,” I state.
Hugo’s fingers twitch. Lord Ruven’s frown deepens. Lord Varik scowls. Lady Myrrh sighs.
“Excellent,” says Lord Almar.
My mother simply raises her eyebrow, waiting for the catch.