Chapter 35
Isca
Now that Emrys was back, the castle buzzed with stories about his time away. I might’ve dismissed the vicious rumors if I hadn’t watched him cleave a man in two mere feet from me.
With the timing of his retreating into himself and his disappearance, I couldn’t help worrying that our unfortunate encounter in the library had further pushed him into it.
The guards had seen me rush out of the room, yet the gossip never once mentioned me, which was a small mercy—or maybe Emrys had threatened them to stay silent.
That chance meeting still haunted me day and night—the heat of his body, the way his breath shuddered when I touched him. A reverence in his eyes that made my heart jump. I’d been as desperate as he was, reaching for warmth, for something human beneath the monster’s advances.
That was why I’d said yes when he’d asked to touch me in his room, still stinking of blood, sweat, and something worse—yet still somehow gentler than I’d ever seen him.
I’d wanted to feel his lips, his hands on me again. It was incredibly freeing to just…indulge myself, with no constraints, only thinking about my desires for once.
But desire wasn’t the same thing as trust, and whatever had passed between us both nights had left me with more questions than answers. And yet, I knew that if he wanted to touch me again, all it would take was being close enough for me to draw a yes from my lips.
With both princes back in the Tir, duty came crashing back—reports to and expectations from the Assembly I no longer intended to obey. The optimism I’d felt after Emrys’s gentler side surfaced was already waning.
Nisien lingered in my thoughts too, maddening in his own way. I’d begun to suspect that all his performances with me hadn’t been for his court—they’d been for Emrys. Nisien loved his brother too much to do it out of malice, so he must’ve been pushing him for some reason.
Whatever was happening between them, the brothers’ on-again-off-again coldness had deepened since Emrys’s return.
Hope that I could help them kept me searching for solutions that refused to come.
The only clue I found was that the runes Nisien had spoken of at our first dinner were a writing system employed by the Fae and their human allies, last used commonly more than a thousand years before.
At least that was a start—I’d keep digging there.
I’d also received letters from home. Tegil’s words smelled of hearth smoke and herbs; my mother’s neat script carried the rhythm of ordinary life. And at the bottom, my father’s line: We’re proud of you, Isca.
That single sentence undid me every time.
Maybe that was why I wrote two formal invitations to the twins to speak privately, away from the politics and eyes of the court the next morning.
The great hall was too public. My chambers, too intimate.
So, I chose the library. It was time to reclaim the space from Emrys’s pain, from mine, from the magic that had almost broken us apart.
Catrin had insisted on “dressing me for war.” The gown she chose looked like the feminine version of something one of the princes would wear. Black with silver thread detailing at the hems, the low neckline its only softening feature.
“Your new jewelry will clash with the trim.” Catrin tutted. “You truly brought no other adornments, my lady?”
“I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t wealthy,” I muttered.
She plucked a purple ribbon from another dress and wove it into my hair. “To match the lavender you’ve been wearing lately.”
She wouldn’t stop teasing me about the display.
“Stop fretting, Mage Isca, I get it. Emrys sometimes needs blunt reminders. He’ll eventually understand whatever you’re trying to tell him. What exactly was that again?”
I still hadn’t told her what had caused Emrys to pull away and disappear from the castle altogether. I finally gave in as she pinned my hair into a style I could never have achieved on my own.
“He was…a bit too aggressive in…” This was incredibly difficult to say aloud. “In his advances.”
Catrin immediately dropped the comb. She gasped, eyes wide. “Isca!”
“What?” I choked out, hoping I hadn’t said something that was going to come down on my head later.
“Prince Emrys does not make advances—ever. Not the romantic type, at least.”
Was that true? With how handsome he was, I’d pictured him engaging in affairs on more nights than not.
Especially since he was always locked in his room.
I’d thought he’d had some fancy lady waiting there at his beck and call.
I didn’t know how to react to this new information, so I asked another question.
“And Nisien, does he entertain romantic advances often?”
“He’ll…” Catrin busied herself with finding the comb where it had fallen. “Prince Nisien will entertain an exceptional lady…”
I raised one eyebrow in question, but she stubbornly ignored me.
Unhelpfully, all Catrin said was, “After what you told me… Good thing I chose the low-cut top. You are filling it out very nicely now.”
First it was her exhibition of my hair, now it was lower and lower cut dresses. I looked down. I had gained a bit of my former softness back since being in Darreth. Still, I argued, “I’m here as a diplomat, Catrin.”
Her eyebrows rose as she began to move the comb through my hair again. “Right, of course, Mage Isca. Of course. Doesn’t mean you can’t look your best while doing it.” She had the gall to wink at me in the mirror.
I narrowed my eyes in return and tried not to smile.
I reached the library early, nervous with anticipatory energy. The velvet curtains were pulled back to allow the tall windows to drink in the afternoon light, lighting this parchment-filled corner of the world into softness.
Emrys entered first, as quiet as a midwinter snowfall, wearing a black tunic and trousers.
His eyes swept the room once then fell to the floor, not reaching mine.
They held a haunted look—like a man who’d walked the fiery edges of hell and emerged still smoldering with the heat of his transgressions on his skin.
Even his broad shoulders were hunched like a prisoner awaiting sentencing—he didn’t like being back in the library.
Far more sensitive than he pretends to be.
He was back in the darkness. It was hard seeing him that way after our moment of intimacy on the night of his return.
His only acknowledgement was a brief nod in my direction as he collapsed his long body into the chair furthest from the hearth’s comforting glow.
Nisien followed moments later, ever the contrast. Wearing a summery shade of blue, he breezed in with a crooked smile, trailing the scent of the mead he carried in one hand.
Three goblets filled the other. “Are we negotiating tariffs or marriage proposals today?” he asked, full of mischief as he dropped into the seat beside mine.
Damn his sharp tongue.
I offered him a warm smile. He truly was like walking sunshine with the mind of a serpent. My lavender crown swayed gently as I reached for the mead.
Emrys’s eyes flicked to it then to my earrings, the necklace at my throat, and away.
We needed to move beyond his guilt if we were going to help this kingdom.
“I asked you here,” I began, pouring mead into each goblet with deliberate slowness, “because your kingdom cannot wait for you two to settle your differences in your own time. I’ve heard much, and felt the truth under the lies from your people’s mouths over the past few weeks.”
Nisien sobered slightly. Emrys buried his face in his hands.
“The northern lords speak of secession. Your nobles have begun placing bets on which brother will sit on the throne alone.” I finished filling Emrys’s goblet then Nisien’s.
“And in the halls of your own keep, soldiers whisper of a kingdom divided. The Assembly will not gamble its future on a kingdom that can’t decide if it’s at war with itself or the world. ”
That last part was pure bluster, but it sounded damn good.
Nisien leaned back, fingers steepled. “I knew I was rightfully terrified of you, Lady Isca. Help save us from ourselves?”
“No,” I admonished. “I’ve come to remind you that I’m not a part of your silent feud or here to be a source of entertainment for the castle. I am a diplomat from the Mage Assembly, here to secure peace. We need to make progress.”
I looked at Emrys then, careful but direct. “Peace cannot be brokered with men who cannot speak to each other without dirty looks or pummeling each other in the training yard.”
Emrys was shut off like normal, but I had sharpened my attention on reading him in other ways over the past few weeks.
Whenever he was fighting off another outburst, he would either clench his jaw or swallow then huff out a silent snarl while averting his face.
He was giving all the signs of it happening again.
“I need your permission to use my magic on you, Prince Emrys.” The situation demanded I do something before losing this opportunity. “I must meet certain expectations, and any further delays may have me recalled to Caervorn before I can finish my job here.”
Both men stilled.
Then Emrys threw back his entire goblet in one swallow. Given that Emrys wasn’t one for drink, his suffering must’ve been even greater than I’d guessed.
“Why not?” he announced a bit too loudly. “Can’t fall much lower, can I?”
I drew in a slow, deliberate breath. He clearly didn’t know how strong he was to stand against the thing I’d only glimpsed inside him, but now wasn’t the time to try to convince him of that.
I made no change to my posture or expression as waves slipped from me in lazy ripples headed straight for Emrys’s turbulent core. He needed to remember that he was separate from the curse, that there could be quietude untouched by its violence.
His wild, blue-fire eyes immediately snapped to mine for one fraught second. But then something in his gaze shifted, became more aware, more present. More human.
He exhaled, the first full breath I’d seen him take in days.