Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
TATE
The sheer mass of people around me has me on edge. There is too much noise, too much movement. It’s too easy to miss something.
Thankfully, not many are brave enough to approach me, but the ones who are ask questions they have no business knowing the answer to and keep distracting me, which makes me even more anxious.
Yes, we aren’t in Telos, but what if whoever attacked Ara tries again? It would be easy to get close in a crowd like this. Especially since too many are getting too close to her.
I get it, they are curious about her and why she is here, but if it wouldn’t make it worse, I’d be glued to her side, making sure they step the fuck back and give her room to breathe.
My eyes return to the spot where Ara stood moments ago, but she isn't there. A chill runs through my body.
My eyes sweep the crowd again and again, but she’s gone.My throat constricts. Panic rises.
“We were so concerned when you vanished into thin air. And that tragedy.” The elderly woman in front of me sighs.
“Of course, we never believed the rumors—” She seems to wear everything her jewelry box has to offer and now presses her hand on the tangle of necklaces while she pauses, hoping for me to fill in the silence.
My brain catalogs away all the details, but I don’t even acknowledge her prying, my eyes still scanning the room. She huffs and turns away.
I dive into the crowd, and it parts to let me through. Cold sweat dampens my skin, and when a man bumps into me, I’m just short of kicking him out of my way.
She has to be here somewhere. I scan my surroundings. She would have never reached one of the doors at the other end of the ballroom without me noticing. I search the floor, afraid to find a crumpled form. The noise seems to swell around me, and I do my best to calm my breath.
All of it, it’s … just too damn much.
And then there she is, stepping back through the balcony door on my brother's arm. Her eyes find me, grounding me. She’s safe. My heartbeat slows, and breathing becomes easier again.
No one is attacking, at least not physically.
Another court member steps toward me and declares his outrage on my behalf. He assures me he never believed a word he heard, and with the number of people who assured me of that tonight, I guess there can’t possibly be any rumors.
They seem to forget that I grew up here.
I take another deep breath, and I’m back in control.
Ara’s and my gaze meet again. She’s dancing with her brother now. She smiles, and warmth spreads through me, replacing the cold dread.
What do I care what people think as long as she still looks at me like that?
My hope to talk to her, and the need for people to remember seeing me here has kept me longer than I intended.
The sea of people between us is still endless, and when another person heads my way, I've had enough.
I turn and leave, minutes later stepping out into the night and making my way through the gardens.
There's a rustle of wings before Daeva lands next to me.
“A wonder you didn't kill all of them,” she tells me. “I wouldn't have had the restraint.” I laugh softly and stroke her beak.
“I guess it's good it was me in there and not you, then. But I guess you can put it down to years of training.”
“How dare they speak to you like that?”
“Oh, I bet word has gone around that I'm stripped of my title,” I say dryly. “And I'm sure my father's displeasure about my leaving and Frederick's distaste at me showing up again play a role as well.”
“We should leave,” she tells me.
“We'll leave soon enough,” I promise her. “But there are things I need to do first, remember? And tonight is perfect for that.”
I make my way to one of the less frequented entrances of the palace, and I'm on my way to my father's study when the rustle of skirts alerts me before another person turns the corner. Deliah stops short when she sees me.
“Alec.” She curtsies. “I mean, it's nice to see you, Your Highness.”
“Centurion,” I correct her. “What are you doing here?”
“I wasn't in the mood for partying,” she tells me. I raise my eyebrow because that doesn't explain why she's in this part of the palace instead of the guest wing.
“I’m just taking a night stroll and didn't feel like going out into the dark,” she says. “Walking calms me.”
“Then I don't want to keep you,” I tell her. And she curtseys again before walking away. I wait for a moment, turning the once familiar ring on my finger. It feels heavy and foreign now. When everything stays quiet, I continue.
Wearing the ring is a precaution. I’m sure the news that I’m back has traveled through the palace like wildfire, but I have been gone for well over three years now, and I’m not sure that all the guards would recognize me on sight. The royal crest, on the other hand, they’ll recognize for sure.
My stride is confident and purposeful as I pass the guards, and just as I hoped, no one stops me on the way to my father’s study. Unlocking the door with my gift, I slip in and close it softly behind me, before taking in the room.
Nothing has changed.
Not that I expected it to. My father is not privy to quick changes, a frequent source of argument in the past.
The dark room is filled with memories awakened by the mixed scent of parchment, paper, and my father’s aftershave.
The bulky desk dominating the room is illuminated by the lamps lighting the perimeter of the palace, their warm glow entering through the window behind the desk.
A big map adorns the wall next to the door, and shelves full of books fill the space in between.
I step up to the desk and my eyes flit over the papers lying on it and stop on a half-opened scroll, when the words “flight games” catch my attention.
I step closer, unrolling it and using my dagger to hold one side down while I scan the information.
It’s organizational stuff about housing, food, and celebrations.
“That is not what you came here for,” Daeva chides me.
“I worked so long toward those trials. Excuse me if I’m curious.”
“Then be curious a bit faster or after you did the actual work,” she grumbles, and I smile.
“No one is going to come here tonight. My brother is busy dancing, drinking, and charming people, and my father is probably sleeping by now.”
“It’s your head you’re risking,” she tells me, but her worry belies her dismissive tone. I follow her advice and start looking for the information I came here for.
It takes me a while to locate what I’m looking for. Either my father changed his system or it’s my brother’s doing.
I pause when footsteps pass the door, accompanied by a hushed conversation. The words are too low to understand, but the voices and steps fade, so I continue.
After scanning rows of names, I find the one I’m looking for right next to the prison he’s held in and the date of his execution. My father is nothing if not structured and thorough.
I copy the information onto a paper with his letterhead, then fold it and tuck it into my pocket. If that doesn’t prove the information is real, nothing will.
I’ve just placed the records back where they belong when footsteps approach again. This time, they stop.
I duck behind the desk and curse wordlessly when the door opens. My dagger is still lying on the desk.
“Empty.” My brother’s voice sounds disappointed.
“And I can’t smell a thing over your perfume,” he complains.
The other voice is a woman, but the reply is too quiet to make out.
My brother groans and closes the door. Despite the hurried steps fading quickly, I pick up my dagger and wait a while before making my way to the door.
When everything is silent on the other side, I slip out and head to the guest wing.
Through Daeva, I know that I missed my chance to talk to Ara after the ball and that she is already back in her room. Daeva also told me Solaris is resting on the balcony, keeping an eye on Ara. Smart bird.
“Daeva, can you tell Solaris that I’ll only leave a letter? I don’t want him to wake her.”
“Done,” she tells me, and I’m relieved to find Ara’s door locked. Smart girl. But with my gift, it’s as easy as turning the key on the other side to get in. I step into the room and come to a stop.
She sleeps peacefully, curled up on one side of the bed, the cover clutched to her chest. Mists, I want nothing more than to hold her, to feel her snuggle into me all sleepy and warm. A strand of hair moves gently with her breath, and my fingers twitch with the need to push it aside.
I stay where I am, though, and place the letter next to her with my gift. If I get too close, I’ll climb in behind her, and someone seeing me coming out of her room in the morning is the last thing she needs. The news would spread within minutes.
I slip out the door silently, too awake to go to bed. I walk the corridors instead.
As if they have a mind of their own, my feet carry me to the room where I’d spent so many hours, bored out of my mind, observing my father handle meetings and audiences.
The years spent away turn the throne room familiar and foreign at the same time. It seems smaller somehow, and I notice details I never did before, like the intricate decorations rimming the arched ceiling or how my steps echo in this room that I have so rarely seen empty.
The carving on the armrests of the two silver-plated thrones is smoother, worn down by age and the touch of my family. Cold white marble dominates the room, fitting my father’s personality perfectly.
A dark blue carpet displaying a pattern of my family’s crest stretches from the main entrance to the steps leading up to the thrones. The crowned phoenix spitting flames is also depicted on the banner behind the thrones and countless other surfaces throughout the room.
How different my life would have turned out if I had never accompanied the trading party to the Ice Coast, or Kystis, as they call their realm.
“How can I ask her to give up a crown for me?” I ask Daeva.
“What nonsense question is that? You could ask her to give her life for you, and she would probably do it,” Daeva answers.
The thought is terrifying and—knowing Ara—unfortunately, not completely out of the blue either. And people close to me tend to get hurt.
“Maybe staying away would be the best for her.”
“That is rukhshit, and we both know it,” Daeva grumbles.
“Tell her how you feel and let all four of us fly back together. The trials start soon, and Solaris doesn’t like it here any more than I do.
” Her unease trickles through our bond. “And don’t lie to both of us by pretending you could do it … walk away, I mean.”
She’s right. I have two goals at the moment, and neither of them involves letting her go.
Win the trials and eliminate the threat . Keep her safe. Maybe not easy, but doable.
Tomorrow morning, I will catch her after breakfast and take her somewhere we can talk. I have quite a bit of groveling to do, but at least our interaction so far gives me hope that she will listen.
I turn around, ready to leave the room and my past behind me, when my brother steps through the door. Maybe sleeplessness runs in the family.