CHAPTER 31 #2
They made it to my side, threw their arm around me, and proclaimed, “You are a genius.”
A flicker of warmth bloomed in my chest as I gripped them tight, the corners of my lips quirking up. They claimed the open chair beside me, and though I’d finished my meal, I hung around as Lispen and Raif joined us, then Ivank and Helene, and finally Lex, trailing in looking distinctly haggard.
“They’re not twins,” he said to me without preamble.
“They’re close cousins, raised like siblings, and while they won’t share a bed for obvious reasons, they have no qualms with taking turns.
” His body jerked away from Lispen, but she and Raif had their heads together whispering back and forth.
Both of their faces were hard with mouths pulled into matching frowns.
“Hey,” Lex called out. “What’s going on?”
“Stay out of it,” Raif shot back, but Lispen got up and moved to the other side of the table away from him.
Lex shrugged at me—a gesture that I returned. I’d seen the two fighting multiple times lately, and I was every bit as perplexed as he was.
Teke nudged me and leaned in. “Wep is picking the formal leader of our ranng soon,” they whispered. “Seems to be creating some tension there.”
“Lispen would be brilliant,” I whispered back.
“That’s the problem. The presumed leader is Raif since his family far outranks hers. The assumption is that the role goes to him. I don’t think he’s happy about having it contested. Of course, Wep could always bypass them both and give it to you.”
“That would be stupid.”
“Agreed.”
I elbowed them in the ribs.
“Hey!” They laughed.
“I’d be a brilliant leader if I didn’t suck at absolutely everything. Don’t say it.”
Teke snorted so loudly that the entire table turned to us.
A server came up from behind us, pulling the attention away from my reddening face. Laden with a tray of tea mugs, he passed one around to all. “Marr Henkel gives his thanks, Lady Serae,” he announced with a dip of his head.
Bringing the mug to my nose, I recognized the aroma of today’s brew, which I’d mixed by hand early this morning.
A small voice spoke up as everyone else took their first sip. “My uncle would love this.” Helene’s words sent my already brimming heart straight to the moon as choruses of “Hear, hear!” rang all around.
“PLEASE,” I panted, begging every dragon I knew—which admittedly weren’t many. “It can’t be gone.”
Three days had passed, and on a whim, I decided to tidy my overflowing desk before training, only to find the little journal missing.
Clothes flew around the room. Shirts and skirts soared through the air as I ripped them from drawers and hangers.
Dresses toppled, and even socks were subject to my wrath.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
I slammed my fist against the desk, and something in my wrist snapped. Pain blossomed, but I didn’t have time for that. I needed a plan, and fast.
I pulled out my new, beautiful journal and clutched it to my chest, which was cinching with fear.
My long-abandoned little journal of secrets and betrayal was missing from its place in the back of my wardrobe.
It wasn’t on my desk or in the drawer of my bedside table.
I’d checked all my pockets, between sheets, under furniture, and even in my private bath.
My heart threatened to explode as I came to grips with the reality that it was gone.
Gripping my new journal, I turned over the possibilities.
Had someone found it and taken it to use against me?
Would they hand it in to Eldreth or worse, Dane?
Were there Inraen spies in our midst who had found and taken it?
Would my father go to such lengths to get it from me?
Had my negligence put us all in danger? I looked around, trying to think of a way out, a way to absolve myself, or a way to fix this that wouldn’t involve revealing the whole truth.
“Any ideas?” I asked Vaya’la.
She was silent—asleep. She’d been sleeping more lately as I used more of her power.
After the morning with my ranng, I felt more settled than ever.
I was ready to work through things with Eldreth.
I was ready to take my place among the Riht.
I’d only searched for my old journal to cast it into the fire.
Something in me needed to burn away the last part of that person I would no longer be. But it was missing.
I was so wound up that I opened my window and poured out every flower and plant I could think of from my hands to the ground below.
It was a desperate bid to let loose even a little bit of tension.
It didn’t even matter that I was wearing my boots and a floor up from ground level. My power, like my body, craved release.
Sprakt flew in while I leaned out the window, clipping me with his wings. I had no idea how long my window had been shut.
“Sorry, bud,” I said.
In answer, he glided toward a chair on the opposite end of the room and shat on the floor.
“Pest.”
He chittered happily.
A bit of white in the corner beneath him caught my eye.
The latest letter from Merria. I scooped it up and read.
My eyes had barely hit the page when I scoffed.
Her engagement to that brute, Naton of Ingleton, had gone ahead, and she was brimming with glee at the extra attention.
A ball in her honor, fine gowns, and gushing over the title of duchess she’d one day hold.
She promised to tell me everything when I returned home—Great Dragon forbid that ever happen.
I was ready to cast it aside when her postscript caught my eye: Your maid Gretta has gone missing, and Father has engaged the General of the Peace in the search.
I read the letter three times. Each time, my eyes snagged on the name “Gretta.” Only Merria could live twenty years with someone and never learn their name.
My irritation quickly bled into fear. Dread clawed at my throat, and tears sprang to my eyes.
Perhaps I was reading too much into it. Surely, my father was not so cruel a man as to bring her harm.
But if that was the case, then why did this feel like a consequence?
I had chosen not to answer the request for more information about the Riht, and now Gerta had gone missing.
I had a terrible feeling something worse was yet to come.
Pulling out a quill, parchment, and ink, I spent a long time drafting a response.
Halfway through, I crumpled the draft, dashed it into the fire, and started over.
I did the same with the next draft. And the next.
After hours, my fireplace was full of excess ash, and my fingers were covered in ink.
I couldn’t do it. There was nothing I could say to appease my father without betraying the Riht.
A knock sounded at the door. I’d nearly forgotten about training. I set the quill aside. Fire and ash, I needed help, but how would I ever explain this to Dane—or Eldreth?
“Come in,” I called, folding Merria’s letter and shoving it in my pocket.
The door opened and closed softly.
“Don’t worry, I was just about to—” I cut off as I glanced up. Callagh stood with her hands behind her back, a stunted smile on her face. Her lifelight pulsed ultramarine. Guilt?
“Are you ready for the market?”
“The market?”
“Lanh Migram’s expecting us.”
My eyes flew to the window. Shit. The sun was well past its zenith. Training had resumed today, and I’d missed it, along with the midday meal. Between my missing journal and Merria’s letter, I’d lost more than half the day.
I hurried through scrubbing ink off my hands and arms and flung a cloak over my shoulders.
At Lanh Migram’s, I selected a batch of winter clothing to dye.
Anxiety over the journal and letter scratched at the back of my mind.
I had to remind myself to focus as I looked through the fine tunics, dresses, and skirts and planned designs.
By the time I got back to my rooms after the evening meal, where Eldreth was conspicuously absent, I stared at the cold, empty space that mirrored my cold, empty life.
I missed him. I needed his help navigating Gerta and whatever else I feared might come from my father, but more than that, I just needed him.
Did it really matter so much that Dane had forced us together?
That these feelings, if he still had any for me, were a result of careful planning by his father and ill-conceived plotting by mine? I just didn’t know anymore.
I sat in a chair at my table and undid the plait down my back, leaving my hair loose. I had two choices. I could get ready for bed, or I could do something that would force a choice, determining yet another course of my life forever. I already knew there was only one path for me.
So, I moved.
I made sure the window stayed cracked for Sprakt, who must have been out hunting, and left the bareness of those rooms behind.
I crossed to the familiar stairway of the Training Hall.
The smaller rooms were vacant, but a steady light glowed from the large double doors at the bottom.
His training room. There was no time to question myself.
I flung the door open, knowing my brashness was displayed as openly as the patterns on my sleeve, knowing I was abandoning my stubbornness, knowing this was the step I had to take for any chance at salvaging this thing between us.
But the room was empty.
It had never occurred to me that I might find him anywhere besides his training room.
I fought back a spike of shame. I had no idea where else he might spend his time.
His purpose was singular, and I had made it that way.
I hadn’t wanted to know more about him, only to find myself pulled more toward the man who I thought wasn’t mine.