Chapter 21
Tension wraps around the room like a sharp thread that could snap and sever everything with just a slight tug.
There’s a throbbing at the base of my skull, and an ache spreading between my ribs.
I know I’m the person who has to speak, who has to break this Gods-awful moment, but I don’t know what to say.
‘He’s not his father.’ Benny’s voice cuts through the silence. ‘He can be an arrogant arsehole, that’s for sure. Brutal and ruthless too. But not like Korvane. Not immoral, not duplicitous. If he were, I wouldn’t still be here. Not after what I did to him.’
Magnus’s eyebrows flick up. ‘What did you do to him?’
Benny stiffens. ‘I helped fund a rebellion against Korvane. Helped arrange and facilitate an attack on the throne room. The king was unaffected, but a Morathkian commander named Zelle was killed.’ Benny pauses.
‘Zelle was the kind of man who, if he’d come with Korvane all those years ago, would have made the same decision as Uzra.
I’m sure of it. And he and Kyor were like family.
When Kyor learned that I was at least partially responsible for Zelle’s death, he was close – very close – to using his powers on me.
Striking me with his lightning and ending me then and there. ’
Ruben reaches out and squeezes Benny’s arm, as though he needs to reassure himself that Benny still stands, and Benny offers him a soft smile as the two of them lock eyes.
A beat later, Benny clears his throat, and Ruben lets his hand drop. ‘So you can see why it’s a big deal that he and I have travelled together for Rose. He’s not his father, but his bond with his father is complicated. More complicated than most, I would say, right?’
He glances at me, and I offer a small nod of agreement.
‘Thank you for telling me that,’ Magnus says evenly, letting out a slow exhale.
‘I know it must have been hard to speak of, and I appreciate your candour. I agree with your assessment. I would not have told him such truths if I believed it was a younger version of Korvane sitting at my table. I was wrong then, and I feared I could be again, but your words set my mind at ease that I am being guided by Oel in this.’
The king looks down at his plate of burdock root, which is surely stone cold by now, before steepling his hands and looking at me.
‘I will tell you the difference I see between your prince and the king who came here at a similar age – the difference I saw from the moment he walked into my kingdom. He walks beside you, not in front of you. He leads when it is his turn, when he is asked, and when he feels it will be best, not because he deems it his birthright. It was only right that he learned the truth of what happened here, and I hope he will come to terms with it.’
‘Me too,’ I say softly.
‘In the meantime,’ Magnus continues, ‘you all are very welcome in my kingdom for as long as you wish to remain.’
‘Thank you,’ Caz and the others respond. But I can’t.
How long? That’s all I can think. How long can I remain here?
Pressing my throbbing hands against my temples, I close my eyes and draw in a sharp breath, trying not to let the enormity of uncertainty consume me.
If I do, by some miracle, pass the last stage of the Veil tomorrow, the right thing would be to leave straight away.
William needs me in Wrohelm, and Kay too.
Her nerves must be frayed with worry. Besides, I long to be there for her baby’s first kicks, for hiccups, and of course the birth – all of those moments she has dreamed of for so long.
Yet I am Issen royalty and so are they. Perhaps our place is here, but then what of the Great War Oel spoke of? What side am I to fall on? How am I supposed to know? To make sure I’m choosing right?
‘The Rose, you are making it cold.’ Thessa’s voice causes my eyes to snap open, and I start at the sight in front of me.
Every piece of food, every piece of cutlery and furniture, is covered in a thin veneer of ice.
It’s my magic – or rather, my magic strengthened by Oel – and I didn’t even feel it happening.
My mind whirring, I turn to the king, aghast. With a flick of his wrist, he effortlessly dispels the ice.
‘I’m sorry, Magnus. I don’t wish to seem rude, but if you’ll excuse me, I should go and check on Kyor.’
‘Of course.’
There’s no chaperone sitting outside the door. I assume that’s because we were in the room with Magnus, and if there had been one, they’d likely have gone with Kyor.
As I head down the hallway, I consider whether I should head out on my own or find a chaperone. Kyor isn’t a man who sits in solitude when he needs time to think, so the chance of him still being in the palace is slim to none.
I knew where he’d go in the High Hold, and even on our journey here I could usually find him, but now?
In the warren of ice and houses he could have gone anywhere with enough room to swing a sword.
I need someone who knows the city to help me find him, so rather than heading to the door, I head deeper into the palace, practising my three breaths as I go.
The good news is that it doesn’t take long to find someone.
The bad news is that the someone is Brida.
‘Have you seen the prince?’ I ask her. ‘He left the dining hall a couple of minutes ago.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she scoffs with a roll of her eyes. ‘I didn’t realise I had to monitor where each one of you goes.’
I grit my teeth, aware of the throbbing that pulls the blood down towards my hands, my magic begging to be used. Maybe she riles me so much because she reminds me of Zara. Rude, abrasive, a bully.
I try to focus my attention on the length of my inhale, like Stefan taught me, but my magic is pulsing in every pressure point, the icy coldness creeping in.
I try to concentrate on my breath, on the feeling of air as it runs down my throat, on leaves on a fucking river, but my focus won’t still.
It keeps returning to that pulsing and the energy desperate to be released.
But losing control here wouldn’t just be dangerous.
It could be deadly. I want to practise my three breaths, use them to push the magic down, but I also don’t want to show Brida how childlike my grasp on my magic is.
‘It was a question. That’s all,’ I reply as nicely as I can. ‘You could have just said no.’
‘Whatever,’ she mutters.
Knowing that even an accidental murder of Ranveeg’s daughter wouldn’t help Magnus’s cause, I start to walk past her. But then she speaks again.
‘The old man won’t be in power for much longer,’ she spits. ‘And when he goes, you’ll have no one to hide behind.’
‘Excuse me?’ I spin around. ‘I don’t hide behind anyone.’
‘Apart from that prince of yours?’
‘It would be wise to keep Kyor out of this,’ I reply, once again preparing to turn away.
‘You’re running out of time, Princess. You, your prince, and every other fat-bellied Morathkian hoarding silk and jewels in their fire-lit palaces.’
Her eyes lock on mine, but rather than biting back, it’s a different reaction that leaves my body. A laugh. A pure, untethered laugh.
‘That’s really what you believe it’s like in Morathka?
You truly believe that every person is going to bed full and happy?
’ My laugh is even louder and more acrid now, though my smile quickly drops as I shift towards her.
‘You hate riverweed? Try simply not eating for so long that the gnawing in your stomach grows so painful that you can barely stand. Not that you want to anyway, because you’re constantly dizzy and your vision’s blurring.
Have you felt that? Have you struggled to remember your own sister’s name – your dead mother’s name, even – because your starved body doesn’t have the energy for that?
Have you drunk water that’s so dirty you know it will make you vomit, but you have to drink it anyway because there’s nothing else?
No, I don’t believe you have. Because you’re living here, completely deluded as to what the world’s like beyond the pyrrhic and too busy hiding behind Mummy’s egotistical drive for power to even bother finding out the truth. ’
‘Fuck you.’ In a heartbeat, there is a dagger in her hand made of pure ice. The tip tapers with effortless smoothness, while the edge is so sharp that it could slice through a single drop of water. That’s not all there is to it, though. The design of the hilt is intricate. Delicate and precise.
It would be impressive if I wasn’t certain she wanted to drive it between my ribs.
‘Our people deserve a leader who will fight for more, not be content to hide away from the real riches of the world.’
‘The real riches?’ I shake my head in frustration, although what I really want to do is pound some common sense into hers. ‘Did you just miss everything I just said? Magnus wants peace. That’s what we should all be fighting for.’
‘Yet it looks like you’re not ready to fight at all. What’s the problem? Only like to get your hands dirty for an audience, Princess?’
As she glances at my empty hand, her lip curls up in a snarl, and in a flash, a second blade appears in her left hand. Okay, so she dual-wields. Unexpected, but then, so is fighting in a palace that doesn’t even have guards.
We’re standing beneath the chandelier, which has a definite tremor to the drops, and I’m not sure why, but I have a horrible feeling that I’m the cause.
In fact, it’s not just the chandelier that’s quaking.
There are cracks appearing in the walls beside me.
Slow-moving, but no crack is good in a building this size.
Fuck. What she’s trying to draw me into suddenly dawns on me.
This is what she wants. For me to fight her in here. In Magnus’s home. Ideally, she wants me to lose control and cause irreparable damage to the palace. Maybe injure some Issen while I’m at it.