Chapter 3
“Princess Kenna,” Kallen said, inclining his head. His voice was a smooth baritone, as perfectly composed as the rest of him. “I hope you are well this morning.”
His pale face was solemn, and his midnight-blue eyes seemed black in the reddish light of the hall.
His straight raven-dark hair hung loose to his shoulders, and he wore full Void black with no adornments, as usual.
His sword was strapped to his hip, but the opal brooch that had once marked his allegiance to King Osric was gone.
The King’s Vengeance had been part of the king’s undoing. He’d been a traitor—a rebel—all along.
“Lord Kallen.” I nodded in return, reminding myself I was no longer a servant obligated to curtsy to Fae nobility. “If you’re looking for information, your blackmail material has expired.”
That was usually why Kallen sought me out—to threaten me into sharing whatever I could about Drustan, Earth House, or any random information I’d happened to overhear.
His leverage had been the fact I’d been cheating in the trials, but everyone knew that now, and I’d slit the throat of the king who had tried to execute me for it.
“So it has.” His expression was unreadable. “And, no, I’ve come to escort you to the meeting.”
I felt a prickle of alarm. “What meeting?”
“Drustan and Hector would like you to join them in an hour to discuss who will be king.”
My stomach dropped. “Already?”
“War does not wait.” Kallen’s eyes drifted over me. “You may want to change.”
I should have already changed. This was not how I wanted him to first see me as the Princess of Blood, with bare feet, tangled hair, and a rumpled nightgown. I tucked my toes under the hem of the robe, feeling the flush of embarrassment.
A meeting with Drustan. Shards, I wasn’t ready for that yet. I pressed a hand to my belly, willing my nerves to settle.
“We don’t need to leave for another thirty minutes,” Kallen said, watching me closely. “If you need a few moments of privacy.”
I scoffed, not very convincingly. “Why would I need that?”
His expressions were always subtle, but I read the skepticism in this one. He knew why. Kallen always knew everything. He was a spider, spinning his webs in darkened corners and waiting for hapless insects like me to stumble into his trap.
My face felt hot. He’d known I would sleep with Drustan before I had. Are you fucking the Fire prince? he’d asked before Drustan and I had even kissed. You will be soon, I’ll wager.
And like a predictable little fool, I had.
This hurt, and I didn’t know what to do about any of it: Drustan, Lara, Anya, my new magic, my new position, the decisions I was expected to make.
Blood House needed to throw its support behind a ruler to break the stalemate between Fire and Void, but how could I choose a king when I didn’t know what made a good one?
When I didn’t know what either of them would do with power?
One moment at a time , I told myself. The future was too vast to deal with all at once, but I could survive in smaller chunks.
A second, a minute, an hour. One foot in front of another, each breath in sequence, and soon I would be partway through a journey that would have seemed impossible to start otherwise.
I straightened my shoulders and notched my chin up. “I’ll be fine.”
Kallen’s mouth turned up slightly. “I know you will.” He approached with slow, deliberate steps, as if testing whether I might flee. “The tree is thriving again,” he said, gesturing at the new crimson leaves.
“It is.” There was even a crow in the branches, preening its glossy black feathers. Birds were rare in Mistei—I’d seldom seen any outside of Earth House—and I wondered if the resurrection of the magic had drawn it here to roost.
“And the rest of the house?” he asked.
I eyed him warily. Something had changed between us over the past months. He’d blackmailed and threatened me, but we’d also danced, and last night he’d saved my life. But he was a collector of information, and his brother wanted to be king. “Forgive me if I don’t share any details.”
He stopped a few feet away. “Probably wise. You are well, though?”
“I suppose.”
“It must be quite the change.”
To become a powerful immortal after a lifetime as a poor, vulnerable human?
“An understatement.” There was something in his watchful air that made me want to confide in him—or at least tell someone how overwhelming this all was—but Kallen couldn’t be trusted.
Even if his ultimate loyalties had come clear last night, there was still so much I didn’t understand about his motivations.
He nodded. “You will have to learn quickly.”
Annoyance sparked. “I’m aware.”
“But you will,” he said, seemingly unaffected by my irritation. “It’s something you excel at.”
My breath hitched at the unexpected praise, delivered so matter-of-factly. “We have to adapt to our circumstances in order to change them.”
His sword hand flexed at his side. “A fact I know well.”
We were dancing around too many topics, and I wasn’t sure why he had come to retrieve me personally. Except…No, I did have an idea. “Are you going to ask me to support Hector?”
Kallen looked surprised at the abrupt question. It was rare to break through that cool composure, but sometimes I managed it. “Obviously. Though you are capable of making your own decisions.”
His equally blunt response startled me in return. The Fae talked around everything, preferring metaphor and insinuation to outright stating their intentions. “I don’t know anything about him. How do you expect me to throw my support behind someone who’s given no indication he’d be a good ruler?”
“Has Drustan given you a better indication that he’ll be a good ruler?” he asked, brows rising.
The question hit me like a slap. Kallen certainly knew I’d been sleeping with the Fire prince, but did he know I’d practically worshipped him?
That I’d thought him a true idealist and a champion for the greater good?
That I’d believed in him so fervently I’d risked not just my life but the lives of others in the name of Drustan’s supposed principles?
I’m not afraid to die for this , Drustan had told me, gray eyes burning with intent. No one who works with me closely is.
When the supposed idealist was the only one left standing, that said something. When that same idealist quickly moved to cement his grip on power, that said even more.
“No,” I said. “Which is why I’m not supporting him, either.” Then, because I didn’t feel like discussing Drustan anymore, I turned away. “I’m going to change.”
Kallen’s voice followed me. “I’ll be waiting.”
Neither Anya nor Lara were in the bedroom. I called their names, and a door across the hall opened to reveal Lara. “What?” she asked. Her eyes were red and puffy like she’d been crying, but there was a guardedness to her expression that told me she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Where’s Anya?”
Lara pointed towards the end of the hall. “She picked out a bedroom.”
They both had, apparently. Behind Lara, I saw at least a dozen dresses piled on the floor in a mass of shimmering red and silver fabric. One had been laid out with more care over a chairback: a navy blue gown trimmed with red ribbons.
Her wardrobe back at Earth House had been full of blue dresses.
Lara followed my gaze, then frowned and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her.
“Is Anya all right?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t been staring at the mess Lara had made of her new room. “Did she eat?”
Lara shrugged, picking at the folds of her robe. “She took the food, but she won’t talk to me.”
I hesitated over whether or not to say anything about Lara’s own emotional state, then took the wary look in her eyes into account. “Thank you. I’ll check on her.”
“Who was out there?” Lara asked.
“Lord Kallen.”
Revulsion washed over her face. “Why?”
“He invited me to a meeting with Hector and Drustan.”
“Princess Kenna,” she said slowly, as if the title were too heavy on her tongue. “I still can’t believe it.”
“I can’t, either.” Guilt gnawed at me, because what had I done to deserve this when the Shards had judged her so harshly? We’d committed the same crime, after all.
“Where is the meeting?” Lara asked.
“I don’t know. Kallen is bringing me there.”
“The King’s Vengeance? You’re going to end up gutted.”
“He’s not the King’s Vengeance anymore. And Drustan’s more likely to murder me at this point, since I refused to support him last night even after—”
My jaw snapped shut. Lara didn’t know about my history with Drustan, I realized with a surge of anxiety. I’d been keeping so many secrets from her.
She made a soft, pain-filled noise. “I want to rip his heart out for what he did to Selwyn.” Then she stormed back into her room, slamming the door behind her.
The guilt intensified. If Lara ever found out the role I’d played in recruiting Selwyn to Drustan’s cause, she’d probably want to rip out my heart, too.
A sense of déjà vu came over me as I approached the door Lara had pointed out. Anya had chosen the last bedroom before the servant stairs. If this had been Earth House, it would have been my old room as Lara’s handmaiden.
I knocked lightly. “Anya?”
There was no reply.
I turned the knob slowly and opened the door, peeking inside. This wasn’t the fine bedroom of a noblewoman; it was one of the adjoining servant’s chambers. There was a dusty wooden desk, a single chair, a wardrobe, and a narrow bed in the corner—just like my old room.
Anya was curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed, facing the wall.
I hurried towards her, worry rising. “Anya?”
She startled and turned to face me, tucking her knees tighter against her chest as if protecting her vulnerable belly. The skin beneath her eyes was smudged with exhaustion.
“Are you all right?” I asked, crouching beside her.
She made a soft noise and blinked heavy eyelids. “Sleeping.”
“On the floor?”
She nodded. “Safer.”