Nearly an hour later, my arms are laden with books, and he leads me to an elegant chaise beneath a pergola draped in lavender blooms. “I assume this will do?”
I sigh dramatically as I set my stack on a small, round table. “I suppose.” The bold flowers cascading down are vibrant shades of fuchsia and sapphire, enormous, and like nothing I’ve ever seen before anywhere, let alone inside a library. I gingerly reach for a tendril to measure it in my palm, and the petals suddenly snap closed over my finger. I jump back in alarm.
A deep cackle sounds nearby.
“That’s one of her favorite games,” Elisaf says as we watch Annika stroll past, her arm hooked in a young, attractive man’s. A lantern flame glints off the man’s cuff.
He’s a tributary.
She winks and continues. I guess not all of them have the same qualms as Zander.
“Is there anything else you might need, Your Highness?”
I sink into the seat. “No, this is perfect. Eli.”
He pulls his own book from beneath his arm and settles into a nearby chair, a playful smile curling his lips.
Princess Isla of Cirilea was known for her difficulties harnessing her elemental affinity. As a gift to his betrothed, Caster Ailill forged a ring using a token from Aoife, designed with the sentient ability to amplify the wielder’s affinity based on need. While wearing the ring, Queen Isla could manipulate water with a thought, making her use of her affinity effortless and effective.
Known to be a devout student of Mordain’s scribes during his tenure in Nyos, Ailill forged the ring in the likeness of the one that graces the hand of Aoife, Fate of Water, as seen in the visions from the seers. While never confirmed, scholars believe the undetermined white stone has ties to the ancient nymph.
I smooth my thumb over the odd, dull white stone. The ring matches the one in the illustration. Is that how it came to life the night I searched for Annika in the water? Did its sentient abilities answer my desperate plea for help with the drowning woman at the bottom of the river?
Sometimes the urge calls to me to slide off the ring and see what happens. Now that Wendeline has told me what Sofie did, that urge is stronger. But while I’m wearing Ailill’s cuffs, I guess there is no point.
“Filling that devious mind of yours with information?”
I startle at the sound of Atticus’s voice. My heart hammers in my chest as he strolls up the path to the pergola. He’s cleaned up and changed since I last saw him, lying in the dirt in the sparring court.
Princess Romeria slept with this man.
Was she genuinely attracted to him, or was she simply stirring up trouble?
He is striking, and they spent weeks traveling from the rift to Cirilea before she ever laid eyes on Zander, so I guess it’s not the most unbelievable thing to happen, and yet she was heading here to marry his brother, the king. Though, I suppose the plan wasn’t for a lengthy marriage. It was only supposed to last hours, if that.
But for the two of them to share whatever they did during that journey, for him to then learn she was planning on killing him …
Atticus must hate me.
And I can’t let on that I know any of this.
I take a calming breath as I shut my book. “How’s your arm?”
Atticus pats the spot with his palm. “It got a little tender loving care from the priestess.”
“Wendeline spends her days patching us up.”
“Nothing compared to the merth bolt through it six weeks ago. Remember that day?”
“Some parts are a little foggy.”
He smirks, but then looks to Elisaf and jerks his head. A sign for the guard to leave us.
Elisaf slides from his seat and vanishes down the path.
Atticus watches him go and then takes his place, leaning back, his powerful thighs splayed, his arm slung over the back of the chair.
He’s far from unappealing physically, but now that I know what kind of brother he is to Zander, any attraction I could have had to him has fizzled.
I plaster on my best aloof expression. “Is there something I can help you with?”
He cocks his head. “You really don’t remember me.”
“And what should I remember?”
He picks up one of the books I haven’t gotten to yet—a cloth-bound text on Kettling’s history—and leafs through it. “My men and I spent weeks escorting you from the rift down to Cirilea.”
I know I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help myself. “And did you and I spend any time together?”
“Beyond the obligatory? No.” Blue eyes flip to me. If I didn’t know our secret, I probably wouldn’t read anything in them behind the usual mixture of curiosity and wariness. But now that I know what transpired between us, in those scant moments, I see the hints of longing and hurt. Maybe even a touch of guilt.
Princess Romeria fooled him as readily as she fooled everyone else. She could have used him unwittingly to learn of all the things Zander has accused this accomplice of. Did she make him promises?
His focus returns to the book. “I imagine that worked well for you, given you were ferrying these vials of poison. Wouldn’t want us to catch on.”
This impromptu visit must be about the murders in Hawkrest.
“I just keep playing over and over in my mind how you would smile and wave, and the whole time, you and your brother had these grand plans to murder us all when we’re most vulnerable.”
“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing else I can say.
He tosses the book back to the table and does a perfunctory scan around us, I assume to make sure there are no eavesdroppers besides Elisaf. He’s intelligent enough to know my guard will hear the entire conversation, now or later. “My brother is making enemies.”
“Isn’t that what kings do?”
“Not this many, this fast.” He picks at a loose thread on the rose fabric on his chair. “This idealistic dream of his to end the tributary system and give mortals a place in the court and land for villages … it will never happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would require overwhelming support from Islorian’s immortals, and he doesn’t have it. And he underestimates his adversaries’ conviction.”
“I guess it’s a good thing he has such a competent brother leading his army, then.”
“Yes. Full of soldiers who need their tributaries as much as men like Adley and Stoll. How far do you think they’ll follow before they turn and start fighting for the other side? How far would you, if someone told you that you were risking your life in battle for people who wish you to starve?”
“There can be a new system. One of free will and compensation. There are humans who will offer it still, who enjoy offering it. We saw it at the Knoll.”
His pristinely white, perfect teeth flash with his mocking laughter. “I see you’ve been bitten by the same bug.” His intense gaze lands on me. “This idea that our king has been entranced by the Ybarisan princess who wants to end Islor’s immortals is gaining momentum among the people. Whether it is true or not won’t matter soon, but I’m beginning to fear that it is, and it is steering all his decisions. It would explain what stayed his blade that night, why he guards you like a precious jewel.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And why he has placed a murderess next to him on the throne.”