Chapter 7
Iwonder what pomp and ceremony will greet us.
Will I have to do something to cement my position as princess?
Spill some blood and swear an oath to Magnus?
Perhaps there will be nothing more than a ball?
The balls in Wrohelm were always accompanied by a banquet.
Tables upon tables laden with more food than a person could eat in a lifetime.
Sweet pastries, dried fruits, cheeses, meats, breads – anything you could desire was there, ready for you to grab by the fistful.
And I hated it. Hated witnessing the greed and entitlement while knowing those in the slums were starving.
Even now, the idea of such excess makes me shudder.
Still, piles and piles of food are the image that the word ‘banquet’ conjures in my mind, and despite the lack of aromas in the air, that’s what I’m expecting here.
As I step through the door, I realise I have misjudged the situation.
While the room is probably large enough for a couple of hundred people, it is divided in two by a long table, which only seats around thirty.
Wine glasses and plates are set, but there is no sign of food, and only a handful of guests have already taken their seats.
The others are standing quietly, watching us like we are an exhibition.
Kyor shifts slightly closer to me.
‘I have my magic back,’ he whispers to me. ‘The siphon must have been called off. So if anyone decides they don’t want to pay the right level of deference to my princess…’
I nod in acknowledgement, and my eyes can’t help but slide over to Ranveeg.
She stands a little way from the table and is deep in conversation with an Issen man with tanned skin that accentuates his circular patterns of white lace to the point that they are almost luminous.
He is striking, with his hair cropped short and his shoulders almost as broad and muscle-bound as Kyor’s.
But it’s the narrowness of his icy-white irises that grips me the most, tension simmering within them.
From the way both his and Ranveeg’s eyes flicker towards me, I’m in no doubt of the topic of their conversation, and they are not the only ones.
In fact, I can’t see a single face that’s not looking in our group’s direction.
Just like down by the river, far too many of the men show signs of war on their skin – from scars to missing limbs.
One even has a fern-like pattern that could well have come from a strike by Kyor’s magic, though if that’s the case, to have survived it is something of a miracle.
It makes me move closer to my lover and grip his hand, though a banquet welcoming me as their princess is probably a less-than-ideal place to inform them of who I have chosen to share my bed – and potentially my life – with.
‘Rose.’ Magnus strides across the room to meet me. He certainly looks more like royalty now that he has changed his attire. Younger, too. His grey hair is slicked back, and his long beard is almost the same colour as the patterns on his skin. ‘I hope your rooms are adequate.’
‘Perfect, thank you.’
We fall silent, and the awkwardness that arises is palpable – at least to me.
Magnus half-clears his throat. ‘Well then, come, take a seat. I’m sure you have plenty of questions for us. And we for you.’
He gestures to a chair at the centre of the table and my nerves kick up another notch. He expects me to sit in the middle of everyone. Far away from the door. Far away from Fen.
But I can’t risk offending him. William is relying on me. Besides, maybe that’s just where the royalty sits. And I am royalty, even if the thought is dizzying.
‘Thank you,’ I respond as Kyor slips closer to me, making it clear we will not be separated.
One by one the chairs fill around us. Kyor is on my left side, while Benny makes a quick dash to sit on my right, with Ruben beside him. Loch is sandwiched between Caz and Thessa at the end of the table on the opposite side.
Magnus takes the seat across from me and is flanked by Ranveeg on one side.
As people take their seats, I scan the faces.
Along with Ranveeg and Brida, Toren is also present, along with another face I recognise from the pyrrhic.
The gathering is made up of a variety of ages and an almost even number of men and women.
Once again, it is only the men who have the lacy markings on their faces, and none have the black markings that I have once again concealed with the white gloves Magnus gave me.
Do not despair, Fen’s thoughts murmur in my mind. There is much to be learned here. There is yet hope.
He’s right, and I let myself be comforted by his soft words. Thanks, Big Guy.
There is a beat of silence before he sighs, but he doesn’t complain further at the moniker he despises.
You’re a good wolf, I say to him, heart full.
I’m not, he complains. I’m vicious and violent!
That too.
‘We will wait until everyone is here before we bring out the food,’ Magnus says, gesturing to the last couple of empty seats while looking directly at me. ‘But perhaps some wine and civilised discussion in the meantime?’
‘That would be lovely, thank you.’
I expect a servant to appear, but instead Magnus himself lifts the bottle and pours my glass.
‘So, Princess Rose.’ Brida is the next to address me directly. ‘Your arrival here has caused quite a stir. We are all desperate to know more. Why have you decided to turn up now? And without your mother. The actual lost princess.’
‘My mother is dead,’ I say drily, trying to ignore her barbs.
Magnus stiffens, and I curse my thoughtlessness. Yes, I told him so before, but that knowledge is new and raw, and not something I should have spat out flippantly.
I shoot Magnus an apologetic glance and continue to answer Brida’s question. ‘My Issen magic has recently come through, and I am having difficulty controlling it.’
‘How recently?’ Brida sneers. ‘Magic should come through in childhood. Most children have powers by the time they are three or four.’
‘Well, my circumstances are not those of most people,’ I reply, hoping the clench in my jaw isn’t obvious to anyone but Benny.
‘Do you have siblings?’ Brida continues to pry. ‘Brothers and sisters still back in Wrohelm?’
Kay’s face swims in my mind, her piercing green eyes and her perfectly even, stunning features, and then, just as quickly, William’s face rises and instantly dissolves beneath an imagined web of white lace.
My pulse tightens. This is why I came. Even more than to control my powers and save myself from certain persecution and death, I need to find a way to save my brother.
But trusting them with William’s existence is not something I can do. I do not consider it for even a heartbeat.
Yes, the Veil may have proven we are kin, but no matter what I feel for my siblings, I’m not buying into that blood is thicker than water line just yet.
I have friends on the other side of the river for whom I would lay down my life long before I chose this king, who is a stranger to me.
And I’m sure he has people of his own he feels the same about.
‘I have a sister. A younger sister,’ I tell them instead. ‘Acacia. I call her Kay. She is at Korvane’s court. Married and expecting her first child.’
Magnus’s lips curve just a little. ‘A special time indeed. And her magic?’ he asks. ‘Does she struggle as you do?’
I shake my head. ‘No. Her magic hasn’t come in yet at all. Not her Morathkian powers or Issen.’ Or her Torailian, I think to myself. Because that’s another magic that flows in my veins. It’s what allows me to connect with Fen in such a manner.
Hesitation fills me as I weigh up how much to admit to. It’s all very well wanting to protect my siblings, but if I keep everything about myself guarded, how can I get the answers I need?
‘Our magic was stripped from us,’ I say at last. ‘From my parents. From Kay and me. We were only children. Kay’s magic hadn’t even surfaced yet.’
‘Stripped?’ the king questions in surprise, his forehead wrinkling.
‘Yes. My mother was accused of something she hadn’t done. The king took his vengeance.’
‘Goodness me,’ Brida says, syrup-sweet, ‘what a shameful past you have.’
Magnus’s jaw locks for a fraction of a second before his normal impassiveness returns. Ignoring Brida’s spite, he asks, ‘What was she accused of?’
‘Killing the queen during childbirth,’ I say. ‘The one who accused her … he was only a child at the time. He knows that what he did was wrong.’ I have to fight not to turn my body even a little towards Kyor. ‘It’s a complicated situation.’
The last thing I want is for my grandfather to have more reasons to hate Kyor, given that he’s also a general in their greatest enemy’s army and one who has likely ended the lives of more of their people than any other single person.
‘Even uncomplicated situations are rarely as simple as they seem at first,’ Magnus replies.
‘Right. Can I ask … why did my mother leave Isthyr?’
Magnus takes a sip of his drink before setting the cup down. ‘A conversation for another time,’ he says evasively. He looks pointedly at Kyor and changes the subject. ‘You have a knight of Wrohelm in your party. A warrior. Let me guess, a fire wielder?’
‘Not exactly,’ Kyor replies. ‘But if flames are what you want, I can normally oblige, especially if it’s what Rose needs.’
The threat is anything but subtle. Kyor’s voice may be calm and pleasant, but if anything happens to me, he will rain hellfire on them … assuming they don’t block his magic the way they did in the fengsel. If they do that… My stomach churns as the taste of bile stings the back of my throat.
With a look of understanding, Magnus’s attention shifts briefly to Caz, only to move sharply on to Thessa, at which point his lips part slightly.
‘You travel with a Sanning? Yet only one? It is highly unusual for them not to travel with at least one other of their kind.’
Thessa stiffens.
‘There were two,’ Caz replies carefully as she takes Thessa’s hand. ‘We owe our lives to the other.’