25. Chapter 25
Lunette
The scent of bacon drifted through the room as my breakfast cooked, but my focus was on the hearth, where the fire flared and died in erratic, surging pulses.
It was reacting to me. My magic had been unraveling at the edges for more than a week now, like a hem coming loose—slowly at first then faster and faster.
I’d reinforced the wards three times this week already, only to wake each morning and find the protection thinning once more.
I watched the window as the villagers headed out to rob the dead.
They left me to my silence, which was a mercy I desperately needed.
I was more of a threat to them now than when I’d been directly threatening them.
If they riled me up like they usually did, I wouldn’t just be a nuisance; I’d become a murderer in truth.
I was just dropping the eggs I’d cooked in the bacon fat between thick slices of bread when I heard the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats. I tossed Muffin a scrap and watched as he scrambled up into the rafters to enjoy his treat away from whatever trouble was coming our way.
I didn’t have that luxury.
Judging by the icy wind whipping down from the pass these last few days, a harsh winter was on its way.
I wasn’t going to waste this meal for the inconvenience of helping one of my horrible neighbors.
Each bite was a defiance against their scorn, against the bone-deep fatigue that no amount of sleep had been touching lately.
Nothing strengthens the will to live quite like spite.
As I ate, the snuffing and metallic clanking grew closer until I was sure there were multiple horses and multiple riders. Had Selmont finally formed a mob to take me down? I grinned, a dark amusement flickering within me at the grim thought.
The pounding on my door was violent enough to shake the frame.
My pulse raced wildly as fear’s icy grip tightened around me. Something told me that whatever waited beyond the latch wouldn’t just break the door, it would break me. After wiping my sweaty palms on my apron, I opened the door to see a soldier in forest green and gold.
His gauntleted right hand was still raised to knock. Under his left, he carried a cage of wood and metal. A soft blanket lined its bottom.
My eyes narrowed first on it then on him.
This wasn’t the same man I’d seen talking to Owain the day he left.
He was just as massively built but dressed more like a common soldier…
if a well-paid one, judging by the state of his armor.
But this visitor was a mage. The air around him hummed with a buzz of magic that felt like fire to my senses, setting my teeth on edge.
Evoker then.
He looked a bit startled at my furious expression. But really, what did he expect when showing up at a person’s house so early in the morning carrying a veska cage? Me to smile and welcome him in for morning pastries?
“Lady Lunette,” he said in a basso voice.
I bristled at the title. At the fact that he knew my name. At the presumption of what that cage meant. Only one person would think of Muffin and only one person had the power to send a battlemage to my front door.
“Yes, and you are?” I asked, voice sharp with rising anger.
“Ser Richart. Your king requires you in the Tir.”
My king? Not my prince?
Something small and stupid in my chest lurched before my pride could catch it. A ridiculous part of me had hoped this was Owain wanting me back.
He went on. “You have half an hour to pack a trunk and secure your belongings.”
I appreciated efficiency, but not when applied to abducting me.
When I said nothing, he shifted uncomfortably. “I am not at liberty to discuss this further, Lady. Your services are required. That is all you need to kno—”
Ser Richart was roughly pushed out of the way by another pair of gauntleted hands.
None other than the golden-haired prince of Darreth stood there looking like he’d happened upon us by accident. Rain slicked his hair and beaded on his armor. He offered an easy, familiar smile, so different from the sharp, predatory ones of men who reveled in the power they carried.
My mouth hung open. So, this drama spanned kingdoms now? Wonderful. I hadn’t even finished my breakfast yet.
Nisien’s bright blue eyes took me in from head to toe before he said the last thing I expected, “Hello, gorgeous. Sorry about that arsehole.”
I stood frozen, my mind scrambling for a response. He wasn’t being flirtatious. He was trying to soften the blow of the command to take me, and I, ridiculously, found myself wanting to believe him.
I looked past him at the sea of Larethian soldiers crowding my doorway. Surely, this wasn’t his doing.
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the familiar scent of pine and damp earth—of home.
I let the simple truth of bark and soil anchor me, a reality that felt a world away from the heavy weight of crowns and commands.
The fear was still there, tightening my chest, but I forced it down. Fear wasn’t useful. Panic even less so.
My only recourse was humor, so I ventured, “Seems you were right about seeing me again, Prince Nisien.”
“I apologize for the theatrics in doing so,” Nisien replied, tone smooth and unhurried, “and my subordinate’s lack of delicacy.”
Behind him, the evoker waited, broad shoulders squared, the veska cage tucked under one arm like a shield he expected to use.
“Well, I lack the ability to say ‘no,’ it seems,” I said quietly.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Nisien said simply.
The casual certainty of it made the already hollow and broken place inside me collapse in on itself. My choices—my life—hadn’t belonged to me in years, but now it was official, royally decreed, by the one person who’d ever made me feel like I was worth something.
Silence stretched between us, filled only by the restless stamping of horses in the clearing and the susurration of the wind rustling the leaves.
I thought of my half-eaten breakfast sitting on the table.
Of the winter pressing closer with every passing day.
Of wards that would fail without me within the week and the children who would be put at risk.
“I already refused to go to the Tir,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Now you’re removing me from my home without notice?”
Nisien winced faintly. “I didn’t decide that part.”
“But you’re participating.”
“Yes,” he said readily. “Because refusing to take part wouldn’t stop it. The stability of a kingdom may rest on your shoulders.”
“You need to find someone else.” Best to get the ugly truth out of the way.
He raised one eyebrow, saying nothing.
“My magic is…having problems right now. It’s not as strong as it was and I can’t seem to get it to do exactly what I want.”
He rubbed the scruff of his beard with one gloved hand. “When did it begin?”
I could’ve lied, but something about Nisien made dishonesty feel wrong. “It’s been more than a week.”
The faint smile that blossomed on his face made the hair rise along my arms.
“Magic is rarely as obedient as people wish it to be.” His gaze flicked toward the hearth, where the flames surged with the heat rising to my cheeks.
“I cannot promise I can save him,” I said, forcing my voice steady.
“They are only asking that you try.” His voice softened. “No one will blame you for failing to perform a miracle.”
I met his gaze, searching for any hint of mockery or cruelty that would allow me to dismiss him as just another entitled noble with polished manners. Except I found none. Only unvarnished honesty.
“You’re upset,” he continued, not accusing. “Reasonably so.”
I folded my hands on my apron, fingers already stiff with cold. I didn’t know if this prince was the sort of man who would count my fear against me if I showed it, but I refused to balk now. “What happens if I refuse?”
To his credit, Nisien didn’t dodge the question. “You delay the inevitable.” He nodded toward the line of mages behind him.
I swore I heard him mumble something under his breath about “Owain losing his bloody mind,” but I couldn’t be certain.
I swallowed. Nisien wasn’t threatening me. He was laying out the terrain. Hard to accept, but something I grudgingly respected. “And if I go?”
“Then you ride with me until your escort is out of the borderlands,” he said. “Conversation. No restraints. These men learn they can trust you.”
“Only until I’m out of the borderlands?” It was a hard truth to swallow, but I knew the only reason I thought I might feel safe with Nisien was because he was Owain’s friend.
A softer smile reappeared on his face. “I aim for Gelida’s capital after that.”
To woo their princess.
Behind him, Richart held up the cage. Nisien glanced at him and made an unprincely sound of frustration. “Owain said you might want the ‘little demon’—his words, not mine—to come with you.”
It was my turn to make an unladylike sound of ire directed straight at the evoker.
Richart bristled. “Your Highness, we must hurry—”
“I did say subordinate, not associate earlier,” Nisien said pleasantly, the cut of his words so clean it took Richart a long moment to realize he’d been insulted.
To my surprise, Richart didn’t look offended; he looked ashamed.
So there’s hope for him yet.
Nisien’s gaze snapped back to me, with a sudden sharpness in his eyes that made me pay attention. “Lady Lunette. Your king, Owain’s brother, is dying. You might be the only person who can save him.”
I hated that my chest tightened before my ego could rally a defense. Hated that my compassion answered before anger could. Nisien just had to be charming then pull on my heartstrings and pride.
Hated even more that my desire to see Owain outweighed my fear and anger combined. Even if this was for the king, this situation bore the marks of Owain’s direct involvement.
But at least he considered that you’d want Muffin with you. That thought hurt.
“I need time to pack,” I said. With so little time, I was suddenly glad I’d given the mercenaries’ horses away for a pittance.