She quirked her head until her neck ached. Her brother did not often discuss the war with her, nor the treaty that’d been signed to end it.
Sol reached for Draven, and the direwolf pressed himself beneath her palm. “You aren’t making any sense, Silas. You tried to talk who out of what?”
Silas breathed deeply through his nose, more distraught than Sol remembered ever seeing him. “Father means to send you to the Kingdom of Dyn.” He took his sister’s hand and squeezed it. His fingers were warm. “He means to sell you to the King’s eldest son, Prince Thane. You’re to be the bridge between our territories.”
Sol tried to pull away, but Silas did not let her.
“Your marriage was arranged when they first negotiated the treaty ten years ago. They’ve been waiting for your eighteenth birthday so that you’d be old enough to bare his children.” Silas’ blue eyes flashed with the rage of an oncoming storm. “You’ll be eighteen this spring, but Father wishes to send you away now so that you might get to know your betrothed.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Two. Magic thrummed inside her veins, the sea beginning to churn beyond her bedroom window. “You can’t mean that,” Sol whispered, but she met her brother’s gaze and saw the truth that guttered there. “Thane Grayclaw is a sadist. Father would never—"
But he would.
There was nothing that King Avedis would not do to ensure Sonamire’s survival, including sacrifice his only daughter to the enemies north of their border.
Forged in the center of the snow-capped Niaden Mountains, the Kingdom of Dyn was not known for its hospitality, not unlike Sonamire. They had not shown any during the war, nor in the years following the Treaty of Kinds. They would not show it to Sol now.
But her father would not spare her from a fate worse than death if it meant keeping the peace between their territories.
“How long have you known?” Sol demanded.
“Since this morning, when Father informed me that I was to escort you to Dyn myself. I’ve begged him all day to reconsider, but he insists that he’s a man of his word. Your hand in marriage was promised to Thane a decade ago.”
Sol shook her head with such fervor that the strip of leather binding her hair slid free. Her braid unraveled, and tendrils of red curls bounced in front of her eyes. “You don’t accept this,” she breathed. Her entire body trembled, from her fingers all the way down to her toes. “You won’t let him send me away. You fought in that war—you nearly died! You know what they’re like in Dyn, what Thane will do to me if I don’t surpass his expectations. Didn’t you fight him on the battlefield?”
“I fought Caidem’s youngest son,” Silas corrected. “But you will not go to Dyn. You will not marry that tyrant.” He spoke with such conviction that Sol was inclined to believe him. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Father has planned our departure for the morning, but you are leaving this castle tonight. You will not be here when Father comes to retrieve you.” Silas motioned to the new, heavy-looking traveling bag he’d tossed onto Sol’s bed. “Pack only what’s necessary.”
“Where are you taking me?”
Sol’s heart beat like the leathery wings of a dragon, like the creatures who had once roamed the skies before her ancestors had permanently grounded them. She felt the brush of those mighty, useless wings fluttering deep inside her chest, in her veins, stirring the Magic that raged there.
“Quint will escort you to Valestorm.”
“Valestorm?” Sol sputtered. “You told me never to go there, that it’s no place for royalty.”
“I know.” Silas nudged her towards the bed. “But right now, this castle is no place for you, and neither is Dyn. I’ll take our chances with the port.”
The merchant port cradled near the base of Mount Vale would grind her bones to dust. Scatter little bits of her adrift in the wind lest she truly become one with the sea. The Rosebone’s were not welcome there, and Sol had heard stories of the enemy ships that docked in the soiled harbor, the severed heads of palace guards hanging like tokens from the bowsprits. Her father may be the King of this Empire, but he did not rule over Valestorm, nor the waters that lapped at its shores.
“What business will I have in Valestorm? Why does Quint have to take me?”
Sol reached for the bag and opened it with trembling fingers.
“None.” Silas crossed the room in three long, graceful strides. He flung open the armoire in the corner of Sol’s bedroom. “You’re going to find a ship, a Captain who seems decent enough not to trade you for treasure, and you’re going to pay them to take you west. To Nedros.” He rifled through his sister’s clothing and tossed warmer garments onto the bed. “I’ll give you the gold.”
She sank onto the edge of her mattress. “I can’t,” Sol whimpered, watching as Silas flung a pair of wool gloves onto her bed. Her heart stalled inside her chest; he was truly sending her away. “I can’t go to Valestorm, Silas. I can’t barter with some—some pirate to take me across the sea.” She tugged on the ends of her hair. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
Silas snapped his fingers, and Draven padded across the room, pressing himself against Sol’s knees and laying his head on her thigh. He whined at her, a quiet plea for her to pet him. Sol absently scratched behind his ear.
“You won’t need to barter. With the amount of gold I’ll give you, there’s not a pirate on the Irican continent who would dare turn you away. Besides,” Silas knelt in front of her and smiled reassuringly. “You’ll take Draven with you. He’ll keep you safe.”
The Princess looked at her companion; his silver eyes met her gaze in that calm, eerie way they always did when Sol was frightened.
“Start packing. I sent for Quint an hour ago. He’ll be here soon.” He returned to the armoire. “On the ship, you’ll keep to yourself. Stay invisible, and stay below deck if you can. Do not use your Magic.” Silas looked pointedly out the window, where the Emerald still crashed into the mountain. “Do not let them know what you are. Any sensible Captain will throw you overboard if they think you’re a threat to their crew.”
“I can’t do this,” Sol repeated. Nausea churned her stomach until she was certain she would vomit. “I’m better off in Dyn.”
Silas spun around. “No, you’re not. Thane is a monster, Sol. He kills men for sport, makes his warriors race through vineyards while shooting poisoned arrows at their backs. He laughs.” Silas swept a hand through his hair. “You have to leave here, Sol. If there were any other way to keep you safe, I would do it. But there’s not.”
A knock echoed through her chambers, reverberating off the stone walls like drums beating in a temple. The sound clanged through her, made her teeth rattle.
Silas cursed. “He’ll wait.”
The Prince of Sonamire pulled his sister into his arms. Sol buried her face into the warmth of his cloak, her fingers grasping at the fabric as if Silas would wither into ash. “When will I see you again?” She blinked away the tears hanging from the ends of her lashes. “I will see you again, won’t I?”