“You said three days. I keep my promises.” Nosficio flashed his fangs, nostrils flaring. “You smell like lavender and summer storms.”

“What does Queen Nieve say?”

“Don’t you think I should give her response directly to the prince?” Nosficio asked. He removed a letter from within his cloak. Marai spotted the blob of red wax with the royal seal of Grelta: a giant bear wearing a crown.

“You want to enter the castle?” Marai asked. “Not a chance. Give me the letter, and I’ll bring it to Ruenen.”

Nosficio returned the letter to his cloak. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” The vampire stepped closer, his hair swishing in the breeze, reminding Marai of the ropes binding the bridges of Cleaving Tides. “You had me run to the damned freezing North and back, risking life and limb to get your prince’s request to Nieve. I’m fully invested now. And you’re going to need me.”

Marai scowled. “What are you going to do? Glide through the front door?”

“Where’s the prince’s chamber? I’ll meet you there.”

Marai hesitated. Revealing the location of Ruenen’s room to a vampire he’d previously staked was a poor decision. However, Nosficio wasn’t going to give her the letter voluntarily. She could fight him for it, but he was right . . . they were going to need him again.

She quickly gave him directions to her room within the castle. Nosficio promised to meet her there, then disappeared in a dramatic swirl of his cloak.

Marai found Ruenen in the private dining room, eating alone at the table. He sagged in his chair, hand over his eyes. At the sound of her purposefully loud footsteps, he brightened.

“Thank Lirr you’re here,” he said, pushing out the chair next to him with his foot. “Are you hungry? There’s enough here to feed an army.” He gestured to the four platters of food surrounding him.

“No,” she lied. She’d eaten only a little at the cottage, but the letter couldn’t wait. She’d swipe something from the kitchen before returning. “Our friend has returned with a response.”

Ruenen’s eyes opened wide. “And?”

“He’s meeting us in my room.”

Ruenen snatched the hunk of bread from his plate and stood. “Let’s go, then.” In the corridor, Ruenen gave Marai a shifty, nervous glance. “Was last night . . . okay?”

Marai avoided meeting his gaze. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You were gone before I awoke, and I haven’t seen you all day.”

“You know I rise early, and I was helping my family fix up the cottage. I wouldn’t have let you stay if I was uncomfortable with it.”

This seemed to ease some of Ruenen’s concerns. Marai’s stomach gave a loud growl then, and Ruenen handed her the bread from his dinner without a second thought.

“So . . . why the dress?”

Irritation bubbled under Marai’s skin as she bit into the bread. “Why is everyone so caught up on this horrid dress?”

Ruenen laughed. “Because it’s such a departure from your usual attire.” He leaned towards her. “It looks good.”

Marai’s cheeks burned as she scowled. They reached her room and she pushed open the door, more forcefully than intended. Nosficio leaned against the fireplace mantel with one arm, a silhouette of seductive promises. He’d taken off his cloak, revealing perfectly tailored velvet and brocade silk clothes in gray and black. The window on the far side of the room was open, curtains fluttering. He must’ve climbed through it somehow . . .

“Ah, Prince, felicitations on your mighty ascension,” Nosficio said with a flourishing wave, but didn’t bow.

Ruenen crossed his arms. “What does Queen Nieve say?”

“No ‘have a seat’ or ‘can I get you anything?’” Nosficio said, voice lilting with play. “That was a long trip and I’m exhausted. Any youthful servants nearby? I could use a snack.”

“Please, have a seat,” Ruenen replied, jaw tight.

Nosficio sat grandly in an armchair and crossed his legs. Marai and Ruenen sat together on the couch.

Nosficio produced the letter from inside his vest. “The she-demon nearly cut off my head when I appeared before her.” But Marai heard the affection tainting all his words. Nosficio admired that about the queen. “Once she calmed down, however, Nieve was very interested in you, dear prince. She read your letter several times, in fact. She asked me a lot of questions. Then she had several long, tedious meetings with the king and their advisors. And then she wrote you this.”

He finally handed Ruenen the letter. Marai tensed as Ruenen’s deft fingers broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. She leaned closer to Ruenen to read the elegant swirls of Nieve’s writing.

His Royal Highness Prince Ruenen,

I never thought I would write those words again to a Nevandian royal. I remember your parents fondly. They were the only two Astyean leaders I could stand. My husband, King Maes, and I were pleasantly surprised to learn of your sudden appearance, let alone existence. You have quite the story, so I’m told. Something about King Rayghast and shadow creatures? I would love to hear all of this from your own lips one day. 

In regards to your letter, you have intrigued me with your request for a meeting. This is not typically the first task of a newly seated king. I would imagine you’d have more pressing matters to attend to, what with Tacorn and Rayghast at your doorstep. Perhaps this meeting has something to do with forging an alliance against him. I cannot fathom any other reason you would write to me at such a pressing time. If that is indeed your intention, King Maes and I would consider hearing your plans, but we’d like to speak with you directly, Your Highness. In person.

Well wishes on your successful reign,

Queen Nieve of Grelta

*Postscript: Sending a notorious vampire in your stead was not the wisest way to make friends.

Chapter 15

Rayghast

His spies in Nevandia all returned to Dul Tanen with the same news: Prince Ruenen had declared himself.

Rayghast couldn’t believe his own failure. He’d had twenty-two years to dispose of that whelp, and he’d failed. His soldiers, his commanders, his mercenaries, all failed. Now, Nevandia would rally behind the prince. Perhaps other kingdoms sympathetic to the boy’s cause would ally themselves with Nevandia. He had a good sob story. Foolish leaders like Nieve might feel compelled to give support.

Rayghast wouldn’t let that happen.

“At least we now know where the boy is,” Commander Shaff said. “Nevandia’s army is still weak. Their soldiers are the sons of farmers and miners with limited training. I don’t believe it will take much to penetrate the walls of Kellesar.”

“How do you intend to scale those enormous walls, Commander?” Dobbs asked through narrowed eyes. “It’s a fortified keep, as much as ours here in Dul Tanen. And Kellesar, like an island, is surrounded by the Nydian on all sides.”

“I suggest a siege. With Varana’s numbers, we can surround the city, pummel them with our trebuchets, and starve them out,” Shaff said with a wave of his hand, as if his idea was so plain and obvious that everyone at the table should have thought of it already.

“That will take months,” Rayghast said, drilling his fingers on the armrest of his throne. “There are far too many opportunities for the prince to escape during the siege. If we take the city, if the boy lives, Nevandia will survive in him. He could take refuge in another kingdom. He could rally another army. No, Commander, it must be one brutal, swift attack that ends it all.”

Shaff frowned; his face was permanently set that way behind bushy eyebrows, but Rayghast supposed the man frowned deeper.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” said Shaff. “I shall meet with my other commanders to discuss the complete strategy. Once Varana arrives, we should be able to set this plan into action.”

“If Varana arrives,” grumbled Wattling to his neighbor. “Suli has been most difficult of late.”

“The queen’s latest letter did the trick, at least,” said Councilman Verdenian, who was ambassador to Varana. “The Emperor finally replied, and agreed to send his troops.”

“He’d better not recant,” Dobbs said.