Forty-Six #2
“I’ll check with the magister. She might be at an early lesson.”
He nods, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I’ll ask the other guards if they’ve seen her.”
“Thank you, Sir Holden.” I turn on my heel and storm through the halls, ignoring the curious glances of passing guards. The corridors blur past as I make my way toward the eastern wing, to the narrow staircase that leads to the tower classrooms.
Ezra. If Celeste needed counsel—or comfort—that’s where she would have gone.
I take the steps two at a time, the rough stone scraping beneath my boots.
When I reach the top landing, the door to the classroom stands ajar.
I push it open but find no one.
The desks sit empty. The hearth has burned low, faint embers casting a weak glow against the stone floor. Shelves sag under the weight of ancient tomes, untouched.
No Ezra.
No Celeste.
No Nadya.
The ache in my chest turns jagged, sharp enough to steal my breath.
Where are you, Celeste?
I brace my hands against the doorframe, bowing my head, fighting the sudden roar in my ears. The fear I’ve tried so hard to keep at bay now rips free, uncoiling through me like a fucking storm.
She’s gone.
And I don’t know if I will ever get her back.
I lean against the cold, stone doorframe, staring into the empty classroom, as if by sheer will, I could summon her.
A shuffle of footfalls behind me jerks me upright, my hand instinctively flying to the hilt of my falchion. I whirl around—hope, stupid and reckless, roaring to life inside me.
But it’s not Celeste.
Ezra halts mid-step, lifting his hands in a calming gesture. “My apologies,” he says quietly, his sharp eyes missing nothing. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I curse under my breath. My heart pounds against my ribs, an erratic drumbeat I can’t seem to quiet. “I’m sorry, Magister Kadmiel. I’ve been looking everywhere for Celeste.” I force my jaw to unclench. “She’s not in her room. Not in the dining hall. Not here.”
“Perhaps she went for a ride. She’s very fond of her horse.”
The tightness in my gut loosens a bit. “The stables. Of course.”
“You could also ask the coach master if she took a carriage into town.”
Now that he says it, I feel even more the fool. There are a number of places she could have gone. For all I know, her uncle could have summoned her for something important, and she left for Delasurvia in the middle of the night.
But she normally has Sir Holden as an escort, if she were to leave. I can only hope she and Nadya went for a ride on horseback, just so Celeste could clear her head to give me a well-thought-out answer to whether or not she truly wants to spend the rest of her life with me.
I thank Ezra and head to the stables, trying my damnedest not to run in a panic. But when I get there and find Thora in her stall, my stomach drops, and my throat closes up. She didn’t go for a ride. Where the fuck is she?
I make my way to the coach master to inquire if she left via carriage, but the coach master tells me no carriage has left the premises. Not even one of the carriages from the visiting kingdoms.
Fuck!
Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones.
I rush back to Ezra, whom I find cleaning out vials at his desk. He peers up at me as I enter the room, and he must see the alarm on my face because he stands immediately.
“No one has seen her.” I swallow hard between heavy breaths. “Her horse is still in the stables, and the coach master said no carriages have left.”
His brow creases. “What do you think happened?”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Last night, I asked her to think about marrying me, to give me a truthful answer regarding what she wants. I told her to sleep on it and tell me in the morning.” I shake my head, unable to communicate the intrusive thoughts harrowing me.
But Ezra sees it on my face.
He steps closer, his voice low enough not to carry.
“Dante. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.
She didn’t run.” His certainty slices through some of the rising panic, but not enough to banish it completely.
“Maybe she needed more time. Maybe she took another horse to Delasurvia to clear her head, to speak with her uncle.”
I want to believe him. I need to.
But I know her. She would never leave Thora behind.
I rake a hand through my hair, turning to the window, where the morning light spills in. “If she needs time… I’ll give it to her. But I need to know she’s all right.”
And if she chose something else—someone else—at least I’ll know.
I clasp his shoulder briefly in thanks, then turn on my heel.
I spend the next moments gathering provisions for my ride. I hurry through the corridor, my riding cloak fastened at my neck, and I’m almost through the front doors when a voice stops me.
“Dante.”
I freeze.
It’s the king.
I turn slowly, every instinct telling me to keep moving, but there’s no ignoring him.
My father strides toward me, Farvis trailing two steps behind. The king’s cloak billows behind him, the polished hilt of his sword gleaming at his hip. His expression is as sharp as a blade.
“You’re in quite a hurry,” he observes, his voice cold and cutting.
“I have something I need to attend to,” I answer, careful to keep my tone even.
He narrows his eyes, stepping into my path. “You can’t leave now. We have guests. Guests who have traveled from afar to see the new prince.”
I stiffen. “Father, it’s important. I have to go.
He studies me for a moment, his thick brows plunging down over narrowed eyes. Then he scoffs, a humorless sound. “She left, didn’t she?”
My stomach twists, but I say nothing. Silence is answer enough.
The king’s face darkens, thunderclouds gathering in his expression. His voice is a low, dangerous growl. “I knew she would betray us. I’ve always found her a conniving bitch.”
“Father, no,” I say quickly, forcing myself to meet his gaze, “I don’t know that she has. Let me find her. Let me bring her back.”
“‘Back’?” He laughs bitterly. “You still think she wants to return? Foolish boy. She was agreeable when it came to marrying Torbin, but perhaps she couldn’t stomach being stuck with the spare. She’s spat in your face—and mine. She broke our agreement.”
No. That’s not what happened. But how can I convince him?
Farvis shifts slightly, but he doesn’t speak.
“If she’s broken the deal,” my father says, his voice rising, “then Delasurvia belongs to Hedera by right.”
“No,” I say, stepping forward before I can stop myself. “Please. Give me time. Give her a chance to explain. It doesn’t make sense. Her horse is here. She knows what would happen to Delasurvia if she left. She wouldn’t do that to her people.” She wouldn’t abandon me.
The king sneers. “You think you know her? You think a few kisses and doe-eyed glances mean you know the heart of a woman?” His lip curls. “They are all the same. Selfish. Deceitful. And weak.”
My fists clench at my sides. I want to strike him, but I hold myself back by the barest thread.
“Farvis,” Silas snaps, turning away from me. “Come. We will convene the council. It’s time to discuss how best to take Delasurvia before the vultures circle.”
“No,” I say again, more quietly. More desperately.
The king doesn’t even spare me a glance. “She betrayed us. She lied, as all women do. And now she will pay for her treachery.”
The words echo down the corridor long after he’s gone, a poisonous brand searing into my skull.
I stand there for a long, aching moment, the fire inside me threatening to consume everything.
She didn’t break the deal. She didn’t abandon her people. She didn’t leave me.
Something is very wrong.
And I need to find out what happened, to make sure she’s safe.
I stride back toward the stables, cutting through the castle corridors like a man possessed. My boots strike hard against the flagstones, and a few servants scatter from my path, their faces flickering with wary glances.
I barely care.
I need answers.
The stablehands barely have time to react before I’m saddling my horse, tightening the straps with fingers that shake from more than adrenaline. The cold bite of the morning air slices through my clothes, but I barely feel it.
Celeste is out there.
And I’m going to find her.
Or gods help me—I’ll burn the world down trying.