23. Lilias
Lilias
ETHIRIA
I’d forgotten just how small the castle of Ethiria is.
I’ve only been here once, as a child, and everything seemed much bigger and grander then. Or perhaps it’s because I’ve seen Vsenrog that Ethiria now looks small and worn.
Two guards ride out to meet us as we round the last corner on our approach to the castle of Ethiria.
Unlike Vsenrog and Marion, Ethiria’s castle sits apart from the city that supports it, perching on a hill above the wide, glassy river and the city that hugs its banks.
If that river didn’t end in a series of rough falls before dropping into the ocean, Ethiria could have been a powerful port.
Instead, this kingdom is a gentle backwater.
It would be a nice enough place to spend the rest of my life, I used to think. But now, watching the cold stone of the palace loom over the small, quiet town, I’m not so sure.
The guards hail us. Elrick rides forward, introducing himself and saying what an honor it is to return to their beautiful country.
The guards look unimpressed. I watch their horses, wondering if I can identify them.
Ethiria’s stable master sent me an annual list of all the horses under his care.
I think these two are Oats and Crescent, but I can’t be certain.
“This is my wife, Princess Anura,” Elrick says, tilting his head at the woman who used to wash dishes in the Marion kitchens. “And my sister, Princess Lilias,” Elrick adds, sweeping his hand toward me.
I incline my head politely.
“With her husband,” Elrick continues. His tone remains the same, but his lips twist down into the slightest suggestion of a frown. “Prince Zarek of Vsenrog.”
Zarek lowers his head, a polite bow from horseback. I watch the guards, wondering if they’ve heard Malrik’s wild story that I left my husband and tried to flee to Ethiria. That story gave Vsenrog all the justification they needed to murder my father and erase my kingdom.
If they have, their expressions give nothing away.
Elrick introduces his men-at-arms, then formally requests an audience with the king of Ethiria. And then he falls silent, and I hear nothing but the low, lonely whisper of wind from the mountains that took us three days to cross.
Finally, one of the guards makes a sound like he’s trying to clear his throat.
“King’s, uh, not well,” he says. “Prince Laurance’ll receive you.”
It’s not exactly a warm welcome. I wasn’t expecting fanfare and sparkling wine, I suppose.
Still, my mother was the king of Ethiria’s third cousin, and Elrick was just here on a diplomatic mission.
Whatever reception I was expecting, I assumed it would be warmer than this.
I glance at Elrick; he’s still smiling like this is exactly the response he wanted.
“I thank you kindly,” Elrick says. “We look forward to a reception with Prince Laurance.”
The man I was supposed to marry. I try not to shiver as the guards turn, leading us toward the castle gates.
The servants who meet us at the gates are just as silent and stone-faced as the guards.
We dismount in the courtyard, and I watch a stable boy lead our horses away with a pang in my chest. I wish I could see the stables.
I’ve read so many notes from their former stable master that I can almost picture each of the stalls.
But we walk past the closed doors of the stables and enter the castle instead.
A silent woman leads us past several massive, closed doors, up two flights of stairs, and into a chilly reception hall.
There are washbasins with towels, several platters of cheese and bread, comfortable-looking chairs, and windows that open to the sea, where late afternoon light sparkles off distant waves.
And no Prince Laurance. I sigh as I wash the dust from my face, then settle into a chair. Zarek paces by the window, examining it like he’s planning an escape route.
“How long do you think he’s going to keep us waiting?” Gerard asks in a low voice.
My hands twist in my lap. Important guests would be greeted immediately, probably at the castle gates.
Even if Prince Laurance wasn’t available, the highest-ranking member of his staff would have come rushing out to greet us, apologizing with every breath for the delay.
Instead, we got an empty room and some crackers on a silver tray.
Gods above. They must still be upset about the broken betrothal.
Zarek turns on his heel and frowns at Elrick. “How did the negotiations go?” Zarek asks, like he’s reading my mind. “The last time you were here, I mean.”
Elrick makes a face, then shakes his head. “Not great,” he admits. “The king was very upset about the broken betrothal between Lilias and his son. We ended up promising him fifteen percent of the Dragon Mine’s profits for the first fifteen years of operation.”
Zarek whistles under his breath. Gerard makes a choking sound.
“Let’s hope he hasn’t heard the mine’s a sham,” Gerard mutters.
“Did the king seem ill?” Zarek asks.
“Yes,” Elrick replies, with a frown. “He seemed weak, at least, and he had a nasty cough. But he came to greet me at the castle gates.”
The look on Zarek’s face suggests that’s not promising news.
“And the prince?” Zarek continues.
“I barely spoke to him,” Elrick responds. “I only saw him at meals. I don’t really know what to expect from Prince Laurance.”
“If he makes us wait past sunset,” Zarek tells Elrick, under his breath, “we should leave.”
Gerard snorts like that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Out of all of my brother’s men-at-arms, Gerard seems to hate Zarek the most, and I have no idea why that bothers me. Zarek is being ridiculous. So why do I suddenly want to slap Gerard?
Elrick shakes his head. I could tell he was trying not to limp as the servant led us through the halls of Ethiria’s castle. He’s still not fully healed, and this trip was hard on him.
“Leave Ethiria,” Elrick replies in a whisper, “and go where? We don’t even have our horses right now.”
“We could go out through the window,” Zarek says.
Elrick, Gerard, and Anura all stare at Zarek like he’s lost his mind.
And the door swings open with a bang.
I met Prince Laurance once, when we were both children.
It was in the feast hall, surrounded by our families and attendants and probably all the servants in the palace.
He was slightly older than me, tall and pale.
I remember his stiff bow and the way he looked at me like he wasn’t sure if I was going to bite. Or if he should bite me first.
I don’t exactly recognize the man who walks in the door wearing a crown and a very elegant cape, but there’s something familiar about his expression.
Prince Laurance still looks at me like he’s not sure if I’m something he should crush under the heel of his boot.
“Welcome,” Laurance declares, spreading his arms wide, “to my kingdom.”