Chapter Twelve
Ada
A day earlier
When Ada received the letter from her brother in Filon, she was galvanized into immediate action. She couldn’t believe that word hadn’t reached her about the attack in Nexa! Var had fled halfway across the United Realms after someone attacked the castle, and she’d had no idea.
He wanted her with him, and Ada was ready to leave without even packing a trunk. So she’d be a bit grubby when she arrived; she could deal with that then.
King Stronex suggested caution.
“You don’t know what the situation is. An attack on the High Court is very serious indeed. You’re protected here.”
Ada crossed her arms and glared at him, pain prickling down her spine. “My family has just been attacked, and Var needs me. I’m going!”
To her surprise, Thurnil stepped in and offered to escort her. “We’ll take guards, Father, and I’ll protect Ada with my life.”
He looked serious, and Ada thought he meant it. It was weird to feel grateful to him when they’d spent most of the four years of their marriage ignoring one another and trying with more (Ada) or less (Thurnil) success to act as though they wished they weren’t bonded.
The truth of the matter was that she’d never really needed Thurnil before, something that she knew he resented.
She’d wanted to make the marriage work, but she hadn’t needed him the way that he’d seemed to want.
At least until he was king, her rank and her magic were higher than his, and he’d never seemed to forgive her for it—despite the fact that he’d known that going into the marriage.
When Var had suggested the match, Ada had readily agreed.
She’d seen the advantages, and while she hadn’t known Thurnil well, he’d always been personable in their interactions.
Lotar was close to Alossa, meaning frequent visits would be possible, and it had seemed like a wise choice in so many ways.
It gave her brother a strong connection between realms. Strong connections meant the peace was maintained, and that benefited every single person in the United Realms. Plus, it meant she was settled so that Var didn’t have to worry about her.
(No matter how many times she insisted she was an adult able to take care of herself, she was aware she’d always be his baby sister.
Just watching how he’d tried to manage Tor had convinced her that there was a lot of value in this connection.)
And Ada had looked at Var and Fernila, and she’d wanted that. Yes, Var was still stressed by being king. But that hadn’t obscured the happiness in his bonding. Ada had thought a similar process could have similar results.
Neither marriage had started out as a love match, but even if she wasn’t as lucky as Var and Fernila, she’d been sure there would at least be mutual respect and friendship.
If only she’d known. If only they’d thought to Tendril before their bonding ceremony.
But it hadn’t occurred to her there might be a problem, and it didn’t seem to have occurred to Thurnil, either, nor anyone else.
So it was only in the moment of their actual bonding that they’d realized they repelled one another.
They’d both chosen to keep silent, stunned and on display and in the middle of an important political union…
and they’d spent the last four years living with the consequences of that fleeting decision.
(But even if they’d said anything, the bond had formed.
Could Var have picked it apart right then, or would their bonding have been their funeral?
None of the choices had been good ones.)
On the surface, she and Thurnil mostly made it work.
As far as she knew, he’d never confessed to anyone about the repulsion, just like she hadn’t.
She was pretty sure Tor was the only one who’d guessed, and she’d refused to confirm it.
Guesses could be wrong. Silence let her maintain her charade and remember all the good things about her life rather than dwelling on the bad.
Because she and Thurnil hadn’t slept in the same bed in years, and meaningful conversations were just as infrequent. She didn’t have a great understanding of how his mind worked.
But she did need him now, and she would be forever grateful that he’d risen to the occasion. She could forgive a lot for that, even if it had been years since she’d abandoned the idea that she might ever love her husband.
King Stronex still looked concerned, but he finally agreed—on the condition that they take a dozen guards on top of the ones sent by her brother and travel by carriage so that Ada wouldn’t be recognized.
“I wasn’t asking for permission,” she told him.
A ghost of a smile softened his features for a moment, though it didn’t erase the look of worry.
“I’m well aware. I want you to be safe. Indulge me, please.”
Ada’s stomach flipped. “Very well.”
He offered her a slight smile and a curt nod, then left her to the children while he went off with Thurnil to plan.
Saying goodbye to Hena and Par was the worst.
“But you said the next time you went, you would take us!” Hena exclaimed.
She was only five, and already tears were welling in her big brown eyes and trailing down her soft brown skin, which just made Ada want to cry, too. She sniffed and pulled out a handkerchief instead, blotting at the little girl’s face.
Par, at eleven, was slightly more stoic, but he’d perfected the puppy-dog eyes that were so incredibly beseeching.
“I know, my darlings,” she told them. “But it’s not safe. I’m not even going to Alossa. Varex is in Filon right now with King Nostex.”
Par made a face and then leaned in to confide in a whisper, “Tor says King Nostex talks a lot.”
Ada barely managed to suppress a laugh. Oh, Tor! He wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t the sort of thing you actually said out loud.
After a short struggle, Ada managed to come up with, “Some people are naturally very chatty and have lots they want to share with other people.”
Hena sniffed and looked hopefully at Ada. “I like to talk to people!”
Smiling gently, Ada agreed, “I know you do, sweetheart.” Actually, now she wanted to see which one of them could out-talk the other.
She mentally shook herself. This was definitely not the time.
“Right now, though, you’re going to have to talk to people here in Scala.
And when I get back, I promise we’ll talk more about going to visit Alossa, all right? ”
“Uncle Tor’s going to take us,” Par reminded her. “You don’t think he’s forgotten, do you?”
It had been months, and Ada suspected that Tor had, indeed, forgotten his promise.
Oh, not maliciously, but because of his ability to get swept up into every new thing.
She hadn’t heard from him yet, and she could only imagine what he was getting into in Tond—if he hadn’t been through all the other realms in the meantime and just forgotten to update her.
“I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten,” Ada told the children, because she would definitely remind him. “And once I find out how everything is in Filon, we’ll all sit down and talk about it, all right?”
Even if Ada needed to find Tor and drag him back here herself.
They eventually acquiesced, but they weren’t happy, and Ada hated it when they were unhappy.
But she couldn’t possibly jeopardize their safety.
“We could go with you,” Stronex offered just once, out of hearing of his children, dark-eyed gaze intent on hers.
She shook her head. “I want you to stay here with the children, where they’re definitely safe. I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to them, and we don’t know what the threat is yet.”
He considered her for a long moment, like he was going to override her and come anyway, but then he inclined his head, and that was that.
In the morning, they were ready to go. Hena, Par, and Ada all cried, hugged a lot, and promised that they’d love one another forever and see one another soon.
Then King Stronex scooped up his children, one in each arm, despite the fact that Par was almost too big for it.
They clung to him, and he looked big and strong and…
definitely not anything that she was thinking about.
She turned to Solil. He was only a few years younger than Thurnil and couldn’t be more different than his brother.
She’d never met anyone who was as easygoing as Sol.
He was tall and thin where his brother was more solid.
Ada assumed they’d wound up with their mother’s coloring—though Ada had never met her, since she’d died during the war.
They were both lighter-skinned than their father or their half siblings, but not as pale as Ada.
“Be safe,” he told her, his brown eyes earnest. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.”
She hugged him. “Thank you. I will.”
Thurnil clapped Sol on the back, patted Hena and Par on the shoulders, and nodded at his father.
For a moment, Ada couldn’t bring herself to pull away. She wanted to stay or demand after all that yes, they should all travel together.
But that was a needless risk, and it was more important that her little siblings-in-law stayed safe than that Ada didn’t feel terrible leaving them.
Thurnil actually patted her on the arm.
“We’d better go. It will only get worse if we drag this out.”
Firming her resolve, Ada wrenched herself away and climbed into the carriage.
Thurnil had elected to ride, stating that he wanted to be aware of their surroundings like the guards.
To keep the peace, Ada had declined to mention that it would make more sense for her to be aware of their surroundings, since she was the only one present who could shield them.
But the whole point of this carriage was protection, and Ada tried to suppress some of her worry by thinking how outraged Tor would be when he heard that she’d been forced to travel this way.