16. Chapter 16 #2
Isca gave him one small, satisfied nod. Then she looked at me and tilted her head toward the door. “Let’s get away from the masculine blustering so I can explain.”
Isca waited patiently as I grabbed my shawl and discreetly tugged my bodice closed with trembling fingers.
The small delay was just enough for my breath to begin steadying.
The cabin still hummed with leftover magic.
I stepped over the remnants of my door and followed a queen into the chill evening air.
Late afternoon sunlight painted the treetops in fiery hues of orange, yellow, and red. Breathtaking, as always. But I couldn’t appreciate it as I normally would’ve, because I’d never see my little clearing the same again.
At least forty soldiers crowded the narrow space. About ten wore crimson and gold—Darreth’s royal colors, unmistakable even in the fading light. The remaining thirty sported deep forest green trimmed with gold of Larethia.
I’d figured out that he was part of the royal convoy traveling toward the mountain pass, but this…
Every man was mounted or standing beside a horse, steel glinting over every inch of flesh and peeking from scabbards. Movement in the trees caught my eye. More men. Archers on the nearest ridge watching me openly, weapons raised. A veritable army.
At the head of them all stood a broad man wearing armor nearly as fine as Rowan’s.
He stared at me, eyes wide, as though I were a specter risen from the Otherworld.
Nothing about his posture screamed aggression or disapproval, only…
confusion. Next to him, a covered cart sat near the front of the column, canvas pulled taut, wheels sunk slightly in the damp earth.
My pulse stuttered.
“What…what is this?” I asked, unable to tear my gaze from the soldiers.
Isca moved toward the log where I’d met so many patients, silk skirts swishing softly against the grass.
“We accompanied Nisien on his journey to Tir Gelida,” she said, gentle and composed in a way that felt almost impossible given the number of blades surrounding us.
“We sent scouts looking for Owain on the way. He’s been missing since his caravan was attacked. ”
Hearing his real name spoken so openly—so plainly—made my stomach twist all over again.
She folded her hands above her small, rounded belly as though to calm herself—or me—and sat directly on the log. I winced internally at the thought of the sodden moss soaking through fabric that cost its weight in gold. Still, I joined her.
Isca hesitated. The pause stretched just long enough for me to understand that she was weighing honesty against kindness. “You reacted every time I said his name,” she said. “He gave you a false one.”
“Yes. Rowan.”
She blew out a breath. “Knowing Owain,” she murmured, “he did it for a good reason.”
It didn’t soothe the pit in my stomach. Nothing she said right now was going to. “How do you know him? Who is he? Why are a king and queen here? Why would—”
Isca slowly raised one hand, halting me.
I was doing a poor job of hiding how flustered I was.
“So he didn’t tell you that part either…” Isca’s bright green eyes softened with something like an apology. “He is the Crown Prince of Larethia.”
Understanding crashed into me like a stampeding horse. I had recognized his name… The whole kingdom knew his name.
My knees would’ve buckled had I been standing. The clearing tilted, the soldiers, horses, and mountains all blurring, and I was absurdly grateful for a sodden, mossy log.
“Some mercenaries were after him earlier today.” My throat tightened at the flashes of violence I’d witnessed only hours before. I didn’t know why I was telling her this; I just had to speak, to relieve some of the pressure by talking.
But she already knew. I could see it in her face.
“I see,” Isca said softly. Calm comprehension, laced with steady concern, practically emanated from her.
I swallowed hard. “I hope this isn’t too prying a question, Your Majesty, but what is your magic? I can feel it…testing me.”
“Empathy,” she said. “I can sense emotions—not thoughts, so the sanctity of your mind is safe. And…apologies for the prodding. Sometimes I can’t help it.”
There goes any hope of pretending I’m not half out of my mind right now.
That explained the calmness. The feeling that lying to her would be not just futile but somehow rude. I’d never encountered such a power before, but it explained, with sudden and perfect clarity, how she managed that beast of a husband.
“So you knew I wasn’t a crazy person from my emotions?” I asked.
“Something like that.” Her grin, so real and sparkling with an undercurrent of playfulness, solidified my initial good feeling about her.
Isca was quiet for a moment. I had the uncomfortable sense she could feel exactly how tangled up I was. “You’re angry.”
“I don’t know what I am,” I admitted. Which was true. The anger was there, yes, but underneath it was something more complicated than I could put a name to yet.
“I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t be. You had every right to know who you were sheltering. But can I tell you something about Owain?” she asked. “Not as a queen, just as a friend.”
I said nothing.
She took it as permission. “He hides himself.” Her gentle voice seemed to tiptoe around my emotions.
“His brother has never made it easy to be the one standing just behind the throne.” Something flickered behind her eyes, older than her years and a little tired.
“Owain learned very young that his name opened doors for other people’s agendas.
” She glanced at me sidelong. “That’s not an excuse. I want to be clear about that.”
“But it’s a reason,” I said slowly.
She held my gaze. “You don’t owe him your forgiveness because he’s a crown prince. You don’t owe him anything. But I think you already know he isn’t careless with people… Otherwise, you wouldn’t be this upset that he was careless with you.”
I pressed my lips together and said nothing. I looked away, toward the soldiers, the horses, the glinting steel—anywhere but her knowing eyes. Isca let the silence sit without filling it, which I appreciated more than I could say.
She stood after a moment, smoothing her skirts. “I’ll let Owain tell you the rest,” she said. “We all have important decisions to make before nightfall.”
None of which I felt remotely prepared for.