Chapter 3
Outside is no warmer than the fengsel, but we’re all passed some water and some sort of dried green thing, which tastes odious but at least stifles our hunger.
As we march towards the river, a crowd stares at me from the roadside.
The gathering is mostly Issen women and children, with only a few men.
At certain points, the crowd is three or four deep, causing my nerves to wrench tighter still.
Do these people want the lost princess to have returned, or not?
Every few steps there’s a shout, a call, but it’s too far away and my thoughts are too busy to decipher the words. Busy with the threat of certain death – once again – and with the idea of being ‘royalty’. I scoff.
If – and that’s a huge if – I am somehow the lost Issen princess, then I am an Issen princess who knows nothing of politics or ruling, and worse still, a princess in love with, and loved by, the future King of Morathka – their sworn enemy.
Our love doesn’t feel like something even the most empathetic of them would accept.
They would reject it. Reject us. Much like Korvane did.
I shake my head. I need to focus. Death might be coming swiftly, but there is one piece of essential knowledge I’ve already gained since my arrival.
Of all the faces that scowl or smile at me, only the men bear the lace markings on their skin – which is a relief for my sister Kay, but for our younger brother William…
I need to know whether all the men do, because if that’s the case, then he’s doomed in Morathka. But … if royal blood runs through my veins, then William might have another chance.
The fact that hope claws at me, even now, shows what a bitch she is.
Whatever this Veil is, the outcomes are already clear: either I’m a princess, or I’ll be killed. If it were my death alone, I could cope with that, but it’s the promise of what would follow that wrecks me – my friends murdered, likely at Ranveeg’s hands.
‘No more Morathkian murderers!’ The words bellow out from down the street, and I swivel around to see a cluster of men and women huddled together, staring at us with pure vitriol. ‘Kill them. Kill them!’
A chant rises in the distance, causing my pulse to ricochet, but as it begins to gain in volume, Magnus sweeps his hand out. That section of the street is plunged into darkness, the chants replaced with shrieks. A split second later, the darkness is gone, the men and women scattering.
‘I apologise for their hostility,’ Magnus says, his eyes remaining forward, although I catch a definite smirk on Ranveeg’s lips.
The city passes in a blur of shouts and sneers. Is this to be my death march? My last steps filled with hate? My nerves judder and I keep my eyes downcast, just taking step after step, coming to terms with the fact that they may lead to my doom.
At last, the river comes into view.
The king turns to his general.
‘You can stay here, Greta,’ he says to Ranveeg. ‘I will take Rose across to the Veil, and you will get your answer soon enough.’
There’s a rigidity to her body, as if her bones and muscles are made of ice, yet for once she doesn’t protest.
A woman is cutting through the crowd, pushing and shoving as she goes.
‘Mother!’ she shouts.
She’s dressed in white fighting leathers, her face free from the lacy markings, and from her stature – the straightness of her nose and her sharp cheekbones – there’s no denying whose daughter she is.
‘Mother,’ she calls again. Ranveeg stiffens.
‘I believe you are being summoned, General,’ Magnus says, and though I might be wrong, there appears to be a slight glimmer of tears in the approaching woman’s eyes.
With her cheeks sucked in so sharply they are like knife blades against her skin, Ranveeg turns to face the young woman.
‘You will address me as “General”,’ she growls.
‘Sorry, General,’ the young woman corrects, adding a slight nod of deference. ‘This is them? The group who claims to have brought back the lost princess?’ The words spill out as though she can’t stop them.
‘You should not be here, Brida.’ Ranveeg’s jaw is locked as she speaks. ‘And the guards should not be gossiping.’
‘But it’s them, right? They’re the ones who are claiming—’
‘We’re not claiming anything,’ I cut in, stepping forward.
Their conversation interrupted, the young woman and her mother both glare at me, but I glare back with equal force.
‘It is your people who have said from the start of this that I am a princess. Not me. I don’t enjoy being accused of things I haven’t done, and I have not claimed to be anything other than somebody looking for help. ’
In my periphery, I see the slightest hint of a smile on the king’s lips, but the moment is so swift, it could’ve been my imagination.
‘This is where we must leave your friends, Rose,’ Magnus murmurs. ‘Toren here will see that they are well looked after.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty,’ Toren replies.
‘It is probably wise to leave nothing unsaid,’ Ranveeg sneers pointedly to me, gesturing with a nod to Kyor and the others.
‘Do not worry, Princess,’ Toren whispers, his icy-white eyes somehow warm with belief I wish I could feel. ‘The Veil will accept you. I’m certain.’
I offer him a swift, wan smile before crossing to Caz and the others, but rather than stopping, I walk through the group, jerking my head for them to follow.
We stand as far from the Issen as possible, but it’s a sham of privacy.
If anyone has a power remotely similar to Loch’s, they’d have no difficulty hearing every word we say, but it’s all we have.
‘This is wrong.’ Kyor speaks first, his tone bristling with anger. ‘I’m not letting you go alone. I can’t.’
‘If I don’t go alone, they’ll kill us. All of us,’ I tell him, pushing the fear that’s rising from my stomach further down. I take in the perfect cut of his cheek and the glint in his blue eyes, wondering briefly if this will be the last time I can do so.
‘Let them try,’ he growls and lifts his hand, only for a crease to form between his brows as not even the static rises. Lifting his head, he scans behind us. ‘Godsdamn them. There’s definitely a siphon here,’ he hisses.
A crowd of Issen has gathered on the edge of the city. As I glance in their direction, a voice calls out, ‘We’re here for you, Princess!’
While I appreciate the sentiment, it only serves to underline that we truly have no privacy here. Trying to ignore the gathering, not to mention Ranveeg and the king, I turn back to my friends.
‘I’m sorry I dragged you all into this.’
Ruben snorts. ‘We all knew exactly what we were potentially facing here, Rosey.’
‘And they’re telling the truth,’ Caz says. ‘All hope isn’t lost. Toren’s body language tells me he truly believes you’re the lost princess.’
‘Ranveeg does too,’ Benny says. ‘As much as she protests. But that’s not why she wants you to go through the Veil.’
‘No, she just wants to use it to kill me.’ I fold my arms.
Benny shrugs nonchalantly. ‘Yeah, she definitely wants that.’
Ruben elbows him hard in the ribs.
‘What?’
‘Lie to her!’ Ruben hisses at him.
Ignoring Benny’s protests, Ruben locks his gaze on mine. His magic might be blocked, but it doesn’t stop the warmth in those brown eyes of his, or the manner in which it transfers to me when his lips curl into a smile.
‘Rosey, you’ve got this. I’d bet everything I earned in the Retterheld that you’ll do this. You’ll be accepted by whatever the hell this Veil is. Princess Rose… It has a nice ring to it.’ He winks, trying to bolster my spirits.
The title, and the prospect of the mysterious Veil, is enough to make me feel nauseous, but what other options do I have? Die and leave my friends to battle thousands of Issen alone?
I want to laugh at the irony. Not once in my life have I ever desired to be royalty. The only reason I wanted to be back at court in Wrohelm was because it was Kay’s right – Kay’s future – and the way out of poverty.
The idea of ruling, of leadership in any capacity, is dizzying and disorienting, but I’ll deal with that when and if it comes to it.
‘Rose, we can get you out of here,’ Kyor says fiercely, taking my hand. ‘Fen can take you, and Elska can find that siphon while Benny and I can cause a distraction.’
‘I am a master of distraction,’ Benny replies immodestly. ‘And I do so love to have all eyes on me.’
His tone is warm, teasing, but I know he’d die for me. If I said yes, he’d do his best to fend them off while I tried to run away.
But I couldn’t go on if they did that. Couldn’t live with myself. So it’s not even a consideration, no matter how scared I am. No matter how much I fancy that I can hear the tap tap tap of Mortidem’s cane as the God of Death closes in on me.
After all, I am many things, but a coward has never been one of them.
‘Thank you, but I have to do this,’ I whisper, locking my eyes on Kyor.
There doesn’t seem to be any point keeping our relationship hidden from the Issen – not if these might be my last moments with him – so I place my hand against his chin, slowly brushing my thumb along his jawline.
His eyes close as I push myself up onto tiptoes and place my lips against his.
A hundred memories surge through my mind, from sparring in the battle yard to him showing up drunk and bleeding in Llin’s dorm room.
Kissing him down by the kitchen where he tasted of wine and vanilla, my heart beating so hard I thought it was going to crack a rib, and the way I thought I’d lost him when Stide’s spear impaled him in the shoulder.
As his hand moves to the back of my neck, I know I could spend a lifetime here, lost in the memories of us. But it would be a shortened life. For all of us.
Biting back the tears that want to fall, I break away.
‘I’ll see you again,’ I promise, only to change my mind. ‘I’ll definitely do my best at least.’
‘Ask the king if you can take Fen with you,’ Kyor pleads, his expression helpless and eyes stormy. ‘He’s part of you. Whatever this Veil is, maybe he can help you.’
‘I’ll ask,’ I agree. As long as you’re all right with that?
As if I was going to let you go without me, Fen retorts.
With a faint smile on my lips, I twist around and my gaze hits Ruben. A new frisson of pain tears through my chest. ‘Ruben, if anything happens to me … you need to look after Kay.’ Déjà vu strikes me. This isn’t the first time I’ve asked this of him.
‘Kay and…’ I stop. I may not have given my blood for the vow, but I don’t let William’s name form on my tongue. Not that I need to. Ruben is already nodding with understanding.
‘You don’t even need to ask,’ Ruben says fiercely, just as he did the first time.
‘I’ve been very lucky to have a friend like you,’ I choke out.
He smiles. ‘Friend-zoned again. I think, perhaps, it’s where I should always have been.’
Swallowing back the lump that is blocking my airway, I hug Ruben and offer Kyor one more longing glance. Then, before fear can get the best of me, I turn and walk towards the man who I am now praying is my grandfather, our shared blood the only thing that can save me from this mysterious Veil.
I try to ignore the other pairs of eyes watching me, blocking out the soldiers and the gathering crowd, which seems to have doubled since we arrived.
My eyes are still locked on the king’s back when my heel hits the ground and my foot shoots out from underneath me. The entire moment is so swift, and causes so violent a jolt, that I barely have time to gasp before my balance is gone and the back of my skull cracks against the frozen ground.
Pain bursts through my head as the world flashes white. What the fuck?
‘Rose!’ Kyor’s panicked shout crashes over the ringing in my ears and I can only imagine how the others are having to hold him back.
Still lying on my back, I suck in a breath and instantly regret it as nausea twists violently through me.
‘I’m okay!’ I call to Kyor, even as I push myself to sitting. The world spins again but I try to hide it. Not just from him, but from everyone watching.
As I blink myself back into the moment, I see a hand extended in front of me. Magnus’s.
Wordlessly, I take it, and the king pulls me to standing.
‘Are you well?’ he asks.
Hot embarrassment floods my cheeks and burns through my veins.
‘I’m fine. I must have slipped.’ But even as I say the word, unease coils through me.
My previous steps had crunched on fresh snow, and I’d been looking where I was going.
Even walking down the ridge, on the steep slope from the pyrrhic, my footing had remained stable despite my concerns.
And yet I slip here? I hadn’t seen any sign of ice among the snow, but maybe that’s because it hadn’t been there before my foot was.
As unease roils within me, I try to quash it. I’m being paranoid. The ground is treacherous, that’s all. Why would anyone try to slip me up when there’s a good chance that I’m walking towards my death anyway?
‘Careful,’ Ranveeg calls over mockingly. ‘The ice here is less forgiving than in Morathka.’ The people around her snicker, laughing that a supposed princess of Issen can’t take even a few steps without falling arse over tits. But others respond differently, their snarls almost wolf-like in sound.
‘You can do this, Princess!’ someone yells.
Shoving the humiliation down, I ignore Ranveeg’s taunt, more determined than ever to prove her wrong.
‘I’m fine,’ I say to Magnus, drawing in a sharp breath. ‘Take me to the Veil.’