13. Chapter Twelve #3
Archer waved his father’s concerns away as a servant offered each of us a plate piled high with an assortment of foods that could be dinner or breakfast fare, from fresh fish and stewed vegetables to fried plantains, slivered coconut, and pomegranate seeds.
Perhaps the king knew Archer and I had slept the day away, or maybe he regularly demanded such variety for his meals.
Alongside coconut water, mugs of bitter coffee were poured, though I added cream and sugar to mine.
“I’ve been seeing her for a while—she lives on the outskirts of the Upper District. ”
I had to catch myself from stiffening in my seat. He can lie, like his father.
“And yet, she hadn’t been approved.” King Wystan set down his fork and studied me like I was the abhorrent one. “You’re the crown prince, Archer. You don’t engage yourself without approval and thought of who the future queen will be. We need to strengthen Emberglade.”
My fingers tightened on my mug, but I kept sipping my coffee, relishing its heat and the fact that it gave me something to do with my hands, something else to look at. Not that the king was truly paying me any attention. He was focused on his son, speaking as if I weren’t dining with them.
“I’ve brought her to you for approval.” Archer leaned back in his seat as he munched on an orange slice, looking for all the world as if none of this exchange was concerning. How would his plan go if King Wystan refused to accept me as Archer’s betrothed?
“So you dressed her up to show off her figure. What are her connections? What magic does she possess? How will she serve Emberglade politically?” He sneered.
I sat straighter, tired of being talked about like I was absent. Before I could convince myself it was too forward, I cut in. “Please, you may ask me what you wish, Your Majesty.”
Let me do the talking, Feathers. Archer’s voice in my head made me start. You can’t lie, and that makes you having to answer questions too risky.
I jerked my head toward him, eyes narrowed, but he didn’t look at me, keeping his smile firmly in place. Was his ability to speak into my mind another aspect of his magic he was just revealing? Or did it have something to do with our blood bond?
My stomach churned. Did this mean he could read my thoughts as well?
“That’s not necessary, darling,” Archer said aloud, wrapping an arm around me.
I swallowed, feeling like I was trapped in a vise.
I preferred when he taunted me by calling me Feathers.
“You shouldn’t feel like you have to be subjected to an interrogation.
” He glared at his father. “After all, Father, I’ve brought her to stay at the castle so you can get to know her before the wedding.
She is a powerful healer and has already volunteered to help us protect our people. ”
King Wystan’s gaze flicked between us, settling on Archer’s arm wrapped around me. “Ah, she’s going to heal the revenants back from death?” he scoffed.
Archer didn’t rise to his bait, instead leaning back and smirking as if he wasn’t at all troubled by his father’s disdain for his choice in a bride. “Maybe. She is quite talented.”
The king sneered, and I tried my best to sit up straight and appear unintimidated.
It was terrifying, dining with my enemies, trying to impress a male who would swiftly have me executed if he knew what I truly was.
I feared any moment King Wystan would notice the pounding of my pulse or my uneven breaths.
What would you think now, Mama, if you could see me?
An ache spread through my chest. My entire family would be worrying soon enough when time continued to pass and I did not return.
What if they sent someone to search for me and endangered someone else?
My hand shook as I lifted my mug to my lips again, trying to pretend like I wanted to be here.
“I think you should call off the engagement and consider the political ramifications of marrying a nobody,” the king went on.
“What do titles mean,” the prince said, his grin vanishing and his tone dipping dangerously low, “if half our kingdom is about to be eradicated? If you’ve decided that the rest of our people must fend for themselves?
Soon, most of Emberglade will be the useless nobility left drinking and humping away their days.
My falling in love with a female of our people—not a stuffy courtier or a foreigner—will help morale in these dark days. ”
“I hope that is true,” King Wystan growled, leaning forward until his elbows rested on the table, matching his son’s intense energy. “Or I’ll find you a new bride.”
Archer only smirked, his carefree pretense returning. I suspected that he did it to anger his father.
“If you haven’t already noticed, Isoria, someone is working against Emberglade, trying to weaken us,” King Wystan said, those hard orange eyes turned toward the stars as he scowled. “The dead are crawling out of their graves, full of underworld appetites and powers, devouring souls and flesh.”
Chills skated across my skin as I thought again of those revenants tearing through the temple graveyard and their unnatural magic. Who had caused that? And Archer and the king were saying that bodies were rising all over the kingdom?
It was said that Ashwood, a kingdom across the ocean, possessed the magical ability to restore fae to the world of the living if they’d been unjustly killed before their rightful time.
But their souls were magically restored to bodies identical to what they’d lost and they returned to living much as they had before.
They didn’t wield underworld magic or attack the living they’d once left behind.
“We’ve taken to burning the dead, and Rainsong has not yet fallen victim to any of these attacks.
We have taken in refugees, however, and some of them arrive wounded.
I suppose, if you want to prove your worth to the people—to me—you can start by amazing us with your healing powers. ” King Wystan’s smile was cold.
And with that, we were dismissed with a careless wave from his presence.