“That is quite the choice of attire.” His eyes flicker downward at my dress. “Were you planning on traveling to the mountains of Skatrana today?” There’s a teasing lilt to his tone that is a reprieve to talk of execution.
“Is it cold there?”
“Bitterly so, I’ve heard.”
“Then, yes. Please. Take me there. Actually, I was on my way to my room to set fire to this thing when the guards called for me, so thank you for ruining my plans.”
His chuckle is dark. “I will gladly burn it for you.”
“With me still in it?” I throw back. How does his affinity to Malachi’s element work? Could he do that? Set fire to someone’s clothes with a thought?
“Don’t be silly. You’d remove it for me first.” His eyes flash to mine, his words painting an intimate image that makes me blush. “They’re watching our every move,” he whispers in my ear, his thumb stroking across knuckle in a slow drag, followed by another. “You need to relax.”
“I’m trying. It’s just … a lot.” And this is all part of the performance. He’s intentionally flirting with me, saying things to make my cheeks redden and stir my blood, because that’s how people who are enamored with each other might act. That’s how Princess Romeria and Zander acted, by all accounts—foolishly in love. I shouldn’t be shocked by it, and yet my pulse is racing.
Zander is dangerously good at this game.
I take a calming breath as I glance around. I focus on Atticus, exchanging words with Boaz. “Your brother looks so much like Annika.”
“Not surprised. He was born a few minutes before her.”
My eyebrows jump with surprise. “They’re twins?”
“Yes, though Annika tries to forget. The first of their kind to be blessed by the nymphaeum.”
“Do they not get along?”
“Some days more than others.”
Atticus’s gaze flips to us where it lingers a moment. “And what does your brother think of this plan of yours?” Obviously, Atticus is in Zander’s trusted inner circle. He has as much reason to hate Princess Romeria as his siblings do, and if that display in the war room is any indication, he does hate me.
“Careful.” Zander leans in close to my ear again. “Some in the court are proficient at reading lips, after so many years of scheming for power and wealth. I wouldn’t want them to read yours.” His mouth accidentally grazes my skin, and gooseflesh skitters along the nape of my neck in response. Thankfully, he shifts away a touch. “He does not agree with it.”
I stall, suddenly wary of my words. “Why not?”
“He thinks it a waste of time, and that we should deal with our problems with our army. But he is young and still thinks every battle can be won by the stronger force.”
“Ybaris didn’t need an army to do what they did.”
“Exactly. Just a few well-placed and especially convincing enemies, though we were fortunate that he had the sense to camp a battalion outside the gate. It made seizing the Ybarisans and Lord Muirn’s men easier.” He pauses. “Atticus believes I should marry Saoirse, Lord Adley’s daughter. That solidifying a union of Cirilea and Kettling would be enough to quell any uprisings.”
Kettling. “On the southeast side.” I remember seeing that name on the map.
“Yes. A large port city, and an important one. They are second only to Cirilea. They do significant trade with Kier, and they have a substantial population. Before our fathers arranged our union, it was expected I would marry Saoirse. Even I assumed I would, though I wasn’t in any rush. Lord Adley, of course, believes his daughter is the most suitable choice to be the next queen of Islor and is not pleased that a Ybarisan sits up here, especially when we will not be getting any humans or casters out of this arrangement as King Barris promised.”
“Maybe he’s right.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be in such a hurry to become inconsequential to me.” Again, his lips skate across my ear, and I no longer think it is accidental. He’s trying to get a reaction from me. That, or he’s testing me. He pulls away to meet my eyes before shifting his focus to his subjects.
That he casually threatened me again makes my anger flare.
Zander can play this game, but so can I.
Steeling my nerve, I lean in close, pressing myself against his arm and taking a second to inhale the sweet woodsy scent of him. “And yet it seems like I’m becoming more important to you by the minute,” I whisper. “Ferreting out traitors, keeping Neilina’s army away, and avoiding an unsavory marriage?” The truth is, the more I learn about the politics and tension of Islor, the more I sense I am a multipurpose tool.
His chest rises with a deep inhale. “It is true that the situation with Kettling is another reason why this current arrangement between us is beneficial.”
I smile with satisfaction as I pull away and scan the unfamiliar faces below us. There are so many. Is the person who Zander is so certain conspired with Princess Romeria in this room right now? Are they watching me, wondering how I convinced Zander that I was innocent?
Hawkish black eyes grab my attention. It’s the tall, thin woman with the black hair. She’s standing next to a man with matching dark hair and pale skin. Her lips move with quick—likely unfriendly—words. I wish I could read them. When she realizes she has my interest, she lifts her chin and offers a haughty look that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a challenge.
“Saoirse wouldn’t happen to be in the front row, would she?”
Zander’s mouth curls at the corners. “However did you guess?”
“She is definitely unhappy to see me alive.” And is no happier to see me up here, by the sour look on her face. That explains the weak effort of curtsying that day along the path. This Saoirse has already placed herself above both Annika and Princess Romeria.
“I imagine not. A Ybarisan has stolen her throne, one who, according to many whispers, doesn’t have the sense to rule in Islor.”
“I’ve heard. I was too busy pretending to fall over myself for the future king.”
His lips twist as if he’s bitten into something curdled. I’ve struck a nerve. Zander was falling over himself for Princess Romeria, too, and it wasn’t an act. “Saoirse will be looking for any reason to find you unfit to be Islor’s queen, so she and her father can turn the court in favor of a union with Kettling.”
“I take it they don’t support your views on mortal freedom?”
He falters, his eyes flittering to Elisaf. “No, they do not.”
“And can they do that? Dictate who you marry?” It’s odd to be whispering of conspiracy and treason with an audience, and yet Zander doesn’t seem the least bit wary of doing so. He is the king, though. He does what he wants.
“No. And they will certainly earn my ire for trying, but given the pressure from Neilina in the north and growing strife within Islor, they might see it worthy of the gamble. I need Kettling’s force behind me, not against me. They know that, and they will use it to their advantage. There is no mistaking that Lord Adley wishes to rule Islor. It would be easier to do so with his daughter as queen, but I wouldn’t put it past them to attempt to remove me altogether.”