"And you believe her?"
"I do. I saw the man for a brief moment, and I thought his wings were black. Her words just confirmed it." He frowned, wiping his palm over his face and into his hair, the heavy weight of that truth starting to sink in. "Did you—did you see this coming?" he asked, allowing all the shock and doubt and hurt he'd been hiding to leak into his tone now that the three of them were alone. "Today, while I was in the city, I swore I felt a change in the air, a shift. I thought they were starting to trust me again, to believe in me, but now… I don't know."
"I did not see this coming," Helen said as she leaned her hip against his desk and crossed her arms. "And that's what worries me more."
"Do you think he was working alone?" Xander asked.
"I don't know."
"Do you think he'll attack again?"
"I don't know."
"We need to call the guards back to the castle immediately," his mother cut in, voice flustered with fear for her son—a feeling he appreciated, but also couldn't accept. "We need to double their shifts. We need people shielding Lysander day and night. I don't want a single window unwatched."
"We can't do that, Mother."
"Last time I checked, I was still the Queen of the House of Whispers, and I say we can."
He and Helen shared a look.
"We can't pull the guards from the city," he tried to reason. "There's still too much work to be done, with the wounded, with the destruction. The people need help."
"You’re their prince, and someone is trying to kill you. I'm sure the people will understand."
"And what will they say?" he asked, remembering her warning. Frightened gossip has the power to bring a kingdom to its knees. The statement had never been truer. "That we're more concerned for ourselves than for them? That we're greedy? That we don't care? Our reign is fragile enough as is with everything that's happened. Until we have Lyana back, we can't risk bringing more contempt upon us."
"What would you have me do? Dangle my only son—my heir—as bait?"
"Of course not, I just…" He sighed. "There's got to be another answer."
"I might have an idea." Helen's tone was soft, but the statement rang loud against the silence. An ominous pulse slipped down his spine.
"What?"
"You're not going to like it."
"When has that ever stopped you before?"
Helen pursed her lips while his mother frowned. She'd never appreciated their relaxed relationship, but the last thing he needed in an advisor was another person tripping over to please him.
"Fine." His captain of the guard stood, unfolding her arms as she met his gaze unflinchingly. "You could leave."
Xander recoiled. "Leave?"
"It would solve both our problems. The guards would be free to continue rebuilding the city, and you would be safely away where no disgruntled ravens could harm you. It's not so strange for a newly mated royal to explore the other isles. Now that the trials and the mating ceremony are over, at least according to all the other houses, you're finally allowed to travel freely between the kingdoms."
"And what message would that send?" his mother drawled, clearly unconvinced. "That we're ready to abandon the people further?"
"I don't think so." Helen shrugged. "No one needs to know what happened here today, no one except for the guards. We can say he's working on a trade agreement, that he's presenting offerings to the other gods in our favor, that he's looking for our lost princess. Whatever we believe will work best. If the people are clothed and fed, they'll be happy. And in the meantime, our prince will be safe."
The scrolls sprawled across his desk sent him back to another time not so long ago when he'd stood in this very room with Lyana, saying much the same thing—that he longed to see the famous libraries in the House of Wisdom, to study their maps and ancient texts. At the time, he'd promised to take her with him, the mere idea bringing a dazzling spark to her eyes, so infectious, so spirited, so…
A dull ache pinched his chest and he pushed the memory aside with a quick shake of his head. His problems were much bigger now than a few mismarked charts, but maybe the solution wasn't so different.
"I could go to the House of Wisdom," Xander murmured.
"Lysander, you aren’t seriously considering this—"
"Why not, Mother? Helen's right. It's the perfect solution. And besides…" The shelves surrounding him on all sides showed him leather spines as familiar as the lines etched into his palm, not a single cover unopened, nor a single word unread. "There's nothing here that will help us. The owls have ancient tomes, some from a time before the isles were lifted into the sky. There might be information we can use to get Lyana back." He lowered his voice. "Information on how to fight magic."
She sank back in her chair, a frown on her lips, but he recognized the calculating gleam in her eyes—it was the same one he sometimes caught in his own reflection, violet streaks of awareness coming together to form a plan.
"What would we tell the advisors? The nobles? The city?"
He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth until inspiration struck. "Tell the advisors and the nobles I go for diplomatic reasons, to make amends with the House of Wisdom now that my mating ceremony is complete. When Lyana chose me, the owls were snubbed, so you thought it prudent I visit the royal family to smooth things over and ensure none of our relations have been affected. And tell the people I— Tell them—"
"The truth?" Helen offered.
"Yes." Xander snapped his gaze to hers, feeling invigorated by this new plan, by the sense of purpose he'd been lacking these past few days. "At least, a version of it. Tell them I go in search of a means to bring our princess back. Give them a reason to celebrate my departure rather than denounce it."
Give them the same feeling surging through me now, he thought, a foreign sense of optimism bubbling in his chest. Hope.
They spent the rest of the night hammering out the details before parting ways with an agreement to meet with the rest of the advisors in the morning. He considered sneaking off to Cassi's room to inform her of the plan, but with Helen ushering him back to his room, he thought better of it. She scanned the halls until they reached his door, then went in first to scout for intruders.
"I'm stationing someone on the balcony overnight."
He sighed internally but nodded.
"And by your door."
Again, he understood.
"Xander." The informal use of his name surprised him. Insecurity hovered in the shadows of her brown eyes. "I hope you don't think— I hope you—" She broke off and swallowed, then straightened her shoulders, the captain he recognized. "My oath is still as strong as the day I took it. I'm your sword and shield. I always will be."
"I know, Helen." He reached out and placed his palm on her shoulder to squeeze it softly, confident in her loyalty. She nodded, clearly out of her element. He decided to take it easy on her rather than tease her for the unusual display of affection and offered a warm, "Good night."