Chapter 7 #3
‘Thank you for sharing your sustenance with us,’ Caz says smoothly. ‘We are very grateful for your hospitality.’ She gamely takes a spoonful of the green mess and takes a slurp. Her face remains entirely too blank afterwards.
It clearly tastes like shit.
Regardless, I have known desperate hunger, and I know plenty who’d be beyond grateful for even this.
‘Well then,’ Magnus says, gesturing to the bowls set before us. ‘Please. Do not wait on ceremony.’
The Issen immediately tuck into their plates. Caz does the same, albeit more tentatively than she did with her first bite, while Thessa and Loch waste no time in starting their meals.
My eyes shift between Benny and Ruben. As I watch, Ruben whispers something in Benny’s ear, causing the future duke to blush in a manner I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
As intrigued as I am as to what the comment could have been, I’m not ready for it when Loch opens his mouth at the end of the table.
‘He said Benny’s had worse things than that in his mouth,’ Loch announces loudly, surprising me so much that I snicker while watching both Ruben’s and Benny’s complexions reach near luminosity.
Looking around the table, I notice Ranveeg glowering, and Uzra and Stefan are both struggling to stifle grins.
At least Uzra has a sense of humour, which hopefully means he won’t take offence when I begin asking my prying questions about his skincare regime.
‘So, Princess, how are you feeling about completing the rest of the Veil?’ Stefan asks. There’s now a definite warmth in those white eyes of his, and his friendly manner clearly has a twofold purpose: to try to put me at ease while also learning more about me.
‘Oh, I don’t intend on completing the next part,’ I reply. ‘Now that it has proven my heritage, I only wish to learn about my powers.’
‘You do not intend on completing the Veil?’ Brida’s voice is laden with disbelief and shock, and she’s not the only one who looks at me aghast.
‘But, Princess, now that you are here, you are the rightful heir to the throne,’ Toren says. ‘You must complete the Veil if you d—’
‘Rose has had a long journey here,’ Magnus speaks over him, ‘with very little time to recover after hours locked in the fengsel.’ Here he levels a fierce glare at Ranveeg. ‘Rose and I will discuss such matters once she is fed and rested.’
‘As long as she is not persuaded to do something she is not comfortable with,’ Ranveeg suggests.
‘It wouldn’t be right to pressure the princess.
’ Her suddenly saccharine tone is enough to make my lips part in surprise.
After all, she was the one who insisted I go through the Veil in the first place, where I could have easily burned to death.
But before I can question her intent, Kyor speaks. ‘You have dire wolves in the city. I didn’t realise they travelled this far north.’
‘They go with their bonded, as I’m sure you know,’ Magnus replies.
Kyor’s forehead creases in a frown. ‘The Issen bond with dire wolves too?’
In all the battles he’s had with them, it appears he’s never encountered one fighting on the other side.
‘Not exactly,’ Uzra responds with some reticence.
Magnus nods towards him. ‘Uzra, perhaps you’d like to explain.’
‘Certainly, Magnus.’ He looks towards Kyor. ‘I am not Issen. I am Morathkian. I am, or rather was, a knight of Morathka, and my wolf is here with me.’
‘You’re Morathkian?’ I repeat, my own stomach sinking. That’s why he doesn’t have markings on his face. Though … I look at the patterns on his hands, so like mine. Does that mean he’s also gone through the Veil? I thought that was an Issen rite alone.
Before I can think further on it, my attention is snagged by Kyor, whose frame is suddenly rigid with tension, his gaze fixed on the mountainous man.
‘Uzra. As in Uzra Ruskin?’ he asks, and the man nods. Kyor’s jaw drops.
‘Uzra who?’ Ruben asks.
Kyor recovers himself with visible effort. ‘He was one of the most celebrated commanders in our recent history. He died protecting Korvane from the Issen when the king was just a prince.’
‘That sounds just about the way he’d spin it.’ Uzra’s cheeks draw in. ‘It’s all lies, of course – apart from my magnificence on the field. I did protect Korvane, right up until the moment when we were here in Isthyr and I learned exactly what type of king he would become.’
‘I’m sorry…’ My spoon drops onto my plate with a clang. ‘You’re saying that Korvane knows about this place? That he came here?’
I turn to Kyor, my stomach clenching. Tension rises between us like an electric current, sharp enough to spark.
His eyes meet mine as he vehemently shakes his head. ‘No. He’s lying. This can’t be right. I’ve never heard of an Issen city. Never. If my father had known about Isthyr, he would have told me.’
‘Your father?’
I don’t know who repeated the word, but it’s loud enough for a gasp to rattle across the table as Ranveeg and several others launch to their feet, swords of ice coming instantly to their hands. My stomach plummets so fast it’s giddying. So much for keeping who Kyor is a secret.
‘Korvane’s son,’ the general spits, eyes flashing with fury as her voice cuts through the room. ‘He’s come to finish what his father began.’