CHAPTER 12
Prince Charlog eyed me from his throne as I knelt before him. “The king is moving. His men-at-arms are mobilizing across the land.”
“Your father, in his barren court, is fearful of the favor you carry,” I said.
“Jealous bastard. I need a plan,” he hissed and looked to me.
“Yes, my prince.”
He held out a hand covered in rings for me to kiss.
Nobles fighting nobles, kings against princes, kin slaughtering kin. All trivialities. Something from the deepest magic of the realms was brewing, and it would rock this world greater than any petty war, regardless of which king sat on the throne.
—Recounting from the private diary of Jerris, Dragonbound
SERAE
Late Summer, Maymon 1036
In two days’ time, I stood at the edge of the bridge, waving through tears as Gerta rode away on horseback.
Guilt lay heavy on my shoulders. I had failed to do more for her.
She looked completely at home in her Rihtish clothes, surrounded by dark leaves and rich soil—unlike me.
What a twisted fate that Gerta, who thrived in the Riht, was sent home while I was forced to remain here.
As my own small act of defiance, I kept my incomplete journal for myself.
Instead, she carried my fattest letter yet, filled with sketches about Rihtish ships and details about the port city copied from its pages, plus a plea to open negotiations with Dane for her return.
As long as I held the journal, there was a small chance he might relent.
I just had to convince him the information inside was worth it.
A risky move, considering it was equally likely he might consider me a lost cause and abandon me here, forever.
I stood frozen on the wrong side of the moat with Callagh at my side.
My last tether to the girl I used to be trotted steadily out of existence.
Now, I was truly alone in an enemy camp, expected to somehow get by.
At least there was no suitor yet to fend off.
Dane had stopped mentioning Eldreth’s return date, and I’d stopped asking.
It was a blessing from the Creator that I didn’t have to feign interest in getting to know him, whoever he was.
The more time I spent in the Riht, the less sense I could make of being here.
I had so many burning questions, none of which Callagh—or anyone, for that matter—could answer.
My biggest one: Why was I here? The idea of needing an alliance was laughable now that I knew the wealth and reach of these people from my lessons with Dane.
Perhaps equally important—how would I spend my life if I were to stay here?
What if Father never came to collect me?
What if I really did have to marry a stranger and become dana to these people?
What was the point of all that I was learning? Of anything? Of me?
“Enough, Small One.”
The voice was right. It was no good traveling down that line of thinking.
Nothing about me fit in here, especially now that I was the lone Inraen in an ocean of Riht.
What cruel irony, to have a fresh start in a new world and still be unhappy with myself.
At home, I was the tall, buxom girl in a sea of petites.
In the Riht, I was the weakling in a sea of muscles.
My one constant—I was still the only redhead.
Well, except for Wep. His rusty, copper locks stood out as dramatically as my own, yet somehow, his otherness fit.
It was with this mixed-up headspace that I went to my lessons. I entered the training room overwhelmed and ready to burst into tears. Lispen looked me up and down, then she kicked Lex, who was mid-gulp from his waterskin and promptly spewed it everywhere.
“Disgusting,” she muttered, wiping the side of her face.
Teke approached and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m here for you,” they said with a smile.
“Fall in,” Raif announced.
I fell into stance along with the others and began warming up my muscles, following Raif’s lead, focusing hard on his short brown braids to avoid catching anyone’s eye.
Halfway through, Wep entered from the outer door to observe before taking the lead.
He spared one glance in my direction. Apparently, one was all it took.
He froze mid-step, and I knew his gaze was on me—assessing, dissecting.
He was at my side in a moment. “Come,” he said, voice low.
I scowled.
With a barked order at the rest to continue, he led the way out of the training area and up the stairs toward the Relaxation Room—assuming I’d follow him.
“Sit.”
Receiving orders like a dog was low on my list of ways I liked being treated. Wep moved to the corner of the room and dropped onto one of the floor cushions, staring at me. Like he expected my obedience.
Seriously? Wep was not the talk-about-your-feelings type, as proven by our last encounter in this room. This was downright bizarre.
He huffed and had the gall to look exasperated.
“Fine.” I selected a pillow of my own, but I scowled so spectacularly that even the great weaponmaster flinched. I took no small amount of satisfaction in it.
His lips thinned. He sucked in a breath as if to speak but then let it out. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and the movement caught my eye.
It might have been the dim light addling my senses, but I had to admit, he had a perfect jawline.
A tiny, crazed part of me was forced to admire it against my will.
It was purely physical. I hadn’t been touched intimately in several weeks, not even by myself, and it was building up.
My body was starting to feel desperate for release, making my imagination run wild.
Images of my last night with Tam flooded my mind, but I pushed them away.
Thinking about Tam made me feel weak around the edges, like I might finally crack and let the despair over my situation in.
I shoved it out and forced my eyes back to Wep and his stupidly chiseled jaw.
I still wanted to throttle the man, but a girl could look.
And, looking I was.
I drank him in shamelessly, which was a big fucking problem, seeing as I was in Drakh to both entice and use my mystery betrothed while somehow keeping him at bay.
I couldn’t risk my tentative safety over some convenient sex.
Still, I wondered what it would feel like to trace that immaculate jawline with my tongue. Not that he would let me.
Wep cleared his throat and shifted on his cushion.
Creator above, what had my stupid face just given away? “What?” I snapped, injecting defiance into my voice. It fell embarrassingly flat.
“You’re upset,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“Your perception is a wonder.”
Wep smirked. I had expected him to frown. “You’re no good for lessons today.”
I sighed. Were we really doing this?
“Unless I’m misreading your obvious bad mood?”
Yep, we were. I had a hundred sarcastic comments waiting on my tongue. Instead, I asked, “Who are you?”
Wep’s eyes narrowed. “Surely you know by now that—”
“The Wep I know,” I interrupted, “is a tireless taskmaster. Surely, the best medicine for any ailment is drills and dowsae. Even an ailment of the heart.”
Ah, there it was—that frown I’d come to rely on. “I didn’t think you two were intimate.”
The image of my tearful goodbye with Gerta hit me in a new light. “Martyrs, no!” I laughed, unable to stop myself. Wep’s face hardened. Shit. I gripped his forearm. “No, I’m sorry, it’s just—Gerta’s been my maid since childhood.”
Wep nodded. The muscles in his forearm twitched, and I withdrew my hand.
“Plus, she’s so old!”
“She’s not even forty. That’s hardly so old.” He leaned back, stretching out one leg and just barely grazing my knee. My body tingled in response.
“She’s fourteen years my senior. Fourteen years!”
“I’ve seen couples in your lands with more years between them than that.”
“Bleh.”
A corner of Wep’s mouth quirked up. Martyrs, it was a good look on him.
He raised his arm to scratch his neck, and his wrist peeked out of his shirt sleeve.
The memory of him sleeveless with those tattoos curling around his biceps wormed its way to the forefront of my mind.
I shook my head. I needed to redirect this line of thinking.
“How old are you?” I blurted out. Not the question I meant to ask.
“Twenty-six this autumn.”
“And how do you feel about twelve-year-olds?”
Wep scoffed. “I think four years apart is a better fit for me.”
The grin slipped from my face. I pursed my lips and gave in to silence. This was a place I absolutely could not go. His brain had clearly abandoned him as well. Wait, did that mean there was attraction on his end, too?
“Relax, it was a joke.”
I ignored this comment and went for safe ground. “She was my only friend here.” The words hit me harder than I expected when spoken aloud. I turned my head to the nearest tapestry, not sure what I might be revealing on my face.
“You’re not the only one who gets lonely.”
What the actual fuck?
I jumped to my feet. “No, you don’t get to do that.”
Wep held my gaze. When he spoke, it was a low rumble. “Come again?”
Rage from I didn’t know where rose in me like wildfire.
He couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to be trapped, juggling two unwanted sides of the same ill-fated coin.
I had no interest in this nonsense betrothal to a missing prince and no interest in this theoretical betrothal to my oldest friend.
Above all, I had no interest in betraying these people, a few of whom showed me only kindness.
And there it was, my truth laid bare. Pulsing blood was ringing in my ears. Whether here or in Inra, I was barred from making my own choices. I was trapped by the will of men, and I needed to break free.