Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Bastian leaves our room, sealing us off from the chaos of the palace and its endless demands. I fidget with the edge of my sleeve, my thoughts forming and dissolving in quick succession. Sterling’s shoulders drop a fraction as he runs a hand through his dark hair.
We need to discuss who’s going to find this portal, but neither of us wants to start the conversation that will separate us. While I want to go, I can’t turn my back on all my duties. Duties that Sterling doesn’t technically face yet.
The silence between us stretches, not uncomfortable but growing thicker with each unbroken moment.
When I journeyed to the Lost City and Hidden Valley, he stayed behind. He dealt with councilors, war preparations, and securing the borders. But I went because Nyc reached out to me, told me where to go, what to do. That was my responsibility. Not his.
This time…
Sterling crosses to the window, his gait unhurried yet purposeful. The light glinting off his profile sharpens his already strong features. My heart stutters in my chest, as it always does when I allow myself to simply gaze at him.
Our eyes meet. “You should go.” We both laugh as we talk over each other.
“Well,” I move toward him, “that didn’t work out as planned.”
“No.” Sterling’s mouth quirks into his private half-smile that weakens my knees now more than ever. “But it does highlight our problem.”
I squeeze his fingers, feeling the callouses that mark him as a soldier rather than just a prince. “I should stay. I’m the actual coronated queen. The kingdom needs a ruler here, and that’s me. When you were officially in charge, you stayed back and let me go.”
His brow furrows. “The kingdom needs its strongest fire wielder and only dragoncaller to find this portal. That’s you.”
“I’ve read all about the Five-Fold Wars. Surely that will come in handy should we encounter any troubles here at home.” The words sound right, but something inside me twists in discomfort.
Since my first day at Flighthaven, I’ve always been the one rushing headlong into danger, leading the charge into adventure. The thought of remaining behind, of pacing these marble halls and waiting for reports while Sterling faces unknown dangers, chafes like an ill-fitting gown.
Cursed responsibilities. Mother always said they were a shackle willingly applied on behalf of those we love.
Sterling doesn’t miss my internal conflict. The gold flecks in his brown eyes flicker like hearth-fire as he searches my face. “You don’t want to stay.”
It’s not a question. He knows.
I sigh and turn away, drifting toward the small table where a pitcher of water sits. “What I want doesn’t matter. What matters is what’s best for Tirene.”
“And what’s best for Tirene is for its strongest leader to follow this vision from the gods.
” Sterling trails behind me, his reflection appearing in the mirror beside mine.
“The dragons like you, Lark. They respond to you in ways they never have to anyone else. Hells, with your dragonbond, you can read each other’s emotions.
That will make the journey much easier.”
“The dragons like you too.” I smile to hide the pang in my chest.
I’m just…afraid. Afraid of what might happen to him if he goes. Afraid of what might happen to me if I’m left alone to rule without him. Afraid of what I might mess up without him here to help me.
All the details I missed while setting judgments that first day in court as Tirene’s ruler still haunt me.
“It’s not the same.” Sterling wanders closer until I can feel the heat of him against my back. “And the gods…they’ve reached out to you before. They kept me asleep and unaware while they were showing you visions.”
At the time it had been so scary, so intense, it never crossed my mind it might be something someone would want to happen. Even though I did feel special—chosen by them—the prophecy of my death always intermingled with those visitations.
I turn to face him, my hands coming up to rest on his chest. “That doesn’t mean—”
“It means something.” His voice is firm now, with no hint of emotion. “You know it does.”
I let my forehead fall against his chest and inhale his familiar, delicious scent. His arms encircle me, pulling me closer, and I feel the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. “I don’t want to be apart from you. To not be the one covering your back.”
He strokes my hair, which is sweet, even if it musses the elegant half-up, half-down style Rhiann labored over this morning. “I know. But we’ve faced worse, haven’t we?”
A soft knock interrupts us.
We don’t spring apart. Not in our private chambers. But I do lift my head from Sterling’s chest as the door opens.
Agnar’s broad form fills the frame. He advances a step and falters, his emotions flitting across his face. Pain, loss, and a whisper of longing are quickly shuttered away behind his usual mask of calm competence.
When I catch that brief glimpse of raw emotion, my heart aches for him.
“Sorry.” He’s already retreating. “I can come back later.”
“No.” I pull away from Sterling. “Come in, Agnar. What is it?”
He hesitates, his blue eyes darting between us. “Just wanted to report that the packs are ready for tomorrow. Whenever you decide who’s going.”
This is so unlike the Agnar I know, who would normally jump at the opportunity to crack a crass remark in a situation like this.
Sterling hasn’t looked away from Agnar’s face. “What’s wrong, my friend?”
“Nothing.” The word comes too quickly, too defensively. He issues a hollow laugh and turns as if to leave.
Sterling steps away from me, his hand reaching out to clasp Agnar’s shoulder. “We’ve known each other for a long time. Don’t lie to me now.”
Agnar’s shoulders slump, and his throat works on a swallow. “It’s nothing. Really.”
“Sit.” Sterling gestures to the chairs by the hearth. It’s not an order, not quite, but there’s enough of the crown prince in his voice that Agnar complies by sinking into one of the cushioned seats.
I take the chair opposite him, while Sterling sits between us, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The three of us form a small triangle, intimate and closed off from the rest of the world.
I keep my voice soft and gentle. “Talk to us.”
Agnar shifts in obvious discomfort, his large hands fumbling with the edge of his tunic.
“It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have…it’s just…
” He heaves a deep breath. “You’re both so good together.
And don’t take this the wrong way, because no one is happier for you guys than I am, but sometimes I’m a little envious of what you two have.
Even with everything stacked against you, you beat the odds. ”
The wistfulness in his voice surprises me. My heart softens. “Cliché as this may sound, you’ll find someone when the time is right. You’re a wonderful man with an amazing heart. Plus, I’ve seen how women ogle you when you’re training.”
A flush creeps up Agnar’s neck and disappears into his hairline. “Think it’s the scars? They do lend me a sort of rugged charm, don’t they?” He tries to laugh again, but it’s even weaker than before.
Sterling leans back in his chair. “Miara is pretty. Why haven’t you ever gotten serious with her?”
“Oh, she’s pretty.” Agnar grimaces. “Also not the brightest woman in all the land.”
I chuckle despite myself. He’s not wrong. After the truth about eyril got out, she stopped drinking all teas and any other dark liquids. Even ones she prepared herself.
She’s not the only one who’s shown interest in Agnar though. “Elowyn likes you a lot. She’s always watching you.”
“Only when she’s drunk on dragon’s blood.” Agnar hides his face in his hands, groaning.
I shrug while thinking of the fortified liqueur distilled from the fruit of the same name. It’s potent enough that a few cups have even the most reserved nobles dancing on tables. The fruit itself is so sweet most people won’t eat it, but dragons and winemakers love it.
I pat Agnar’s arm. “That doesn’t mean her interest isn’t genuine. Dragon’s blood just gives her the courage to show it.”
“Exactly. Don’t knock a little liquid courage. Lark was half drunk the first time she—”
Knowing what Sterling’s about to say, I cut him off with a warning look. As much as Sterling loves to remind me of the night I snuck into his instructor’s quarters at Flighthaven following a drinking game with my friends and threw myself at him, I doubt that’s what Agnar needs to hear.
“But liquid courage isn’t real courage.” Agnar straightens, running a hand through his coppery hair. “And who wants a woman who has to rely on alcohol in order to have a relationship beyond that first kiss?”
Sterling nods in silent agreement. “What about Brynn? She’s smart and capable.”
“And devoted to her studies.” Agnar shakes his head. “She barely knows I exist, and what she does notice doesn’t impress her.”
I remember the fiery redhead who recently became a royal guard. “Serilda? She’s a skilled fighter.”
Agnar’s already frowning. “Pretty sure she’s got her eye on Helene.”
We continue like this, where Sterling and I name eligible women and Agnar finds reasons why each wouldn’t work. It would be annoying if his arguments weren’t so sound that I agreed with them. With every name, his shoulders tense even more, until finally he raises a hand to stop us.
“I don’t want pretty and party.” His eyes flick between us. “I’m ready for something more.”
“You want what we have.” I almost feel bad admitting that truth. “I know.”
Agnar peers down at his hands. “Someone who sees me. Not just the soldier, not just my sarcasm. But all of me. Is that too much to ask?”
Sterling leans forward to grip Agnar’s forearm. “It’s not too much. And you’ll find it. But rushing into it with the wrong person won’t get you there faster.”
“The right person is out there.” I start reflecting on all the women I’ve met since coming to Tirene. “And when you meet her, you’ll know.”