“Ah, there you are,” Holfast said. “We were hoping you didn’t get caught in the rain.”
Ruenen hastily adjusted his tunic, turning on his princely swagger. “Briefly. We decided to wait in here until it stopped.” He forced his voice to be level, but Marai heard its breathlessness.
Keshel observed Ruenen then Marai. He knew. The bastard could sense it. Or maybe it was so plainly written on their faces.
“Your Highness, it’s time to prepare for your visit to Grelta. Councilman Goso has discussion points he needs to go over with you,” said Holfast.
Ruenen walked stiffly to his side. Goso chirped advice as he led Ruenen back towards the castle, followed by the retinue of soldiers. Only Keshel remained, staring blankly at Marai.
“Be careful.”
“Of what?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Your heart.”
“My heart is none of your business.” Marai stalked outside past him into the spritzing rain.
“I don’t wish to see you so broken ever again.”
Marai bristled. She wouldn’t break. Not like she had after leaving Slate, or Cleaving Tides, and certainly not by Ruenen’s hands. This time, she was in control. This time, she was safe. Marai focused on her feet, on each step, grounding her to the wet stone beneath her slippers, as she walked into the castle hall.
Guards were stationed outside the doors. Marai was about to enter when she heard the sound of light feet behind her.
Aresti appeared at her side. “I’m coming today, remember?”
“I remember.” Although, Marai was hesitant to bring Aresti with her. Splitting up the fae any further would weaken them. Marai knew she could handle herself if things went wrong in Grelta, but she couldn’t guarantee Aresti’s safety. And back here in Nevandia, if anyone rebelled against the new fae agreements in Ruenen’s absence, the fae would be vastly outnumbered.
“When do we leave?” Aresti asked, craning her neck upwards to stare at the hall ceiling.
As if in response, the chamber doors open. Avilyard marched out. He spotted Marai and Aresti against the wall.
His deep voice echoed off the marble and granite as he said, “The Witan is ready.”
Chapter 18
Ruenen
Ruenen wiped sweaty hands on his refined outfit of velvets and silks, as Marai and Aresti followed Avilyard back into the room. Mayestral had dressed Ruenen in gold and forest green to represent Nevandia abroad, as per Holfast’s request.
Goso and a younger man, his assistant, who reminded Ruenen of a mosquito, stood with Avilyard and eight King’s Guards clumped to the side of the chamber.
“What is she doing here?” asked Vorae, gesturing to Aresti.
“Aresti wants to help protect His Highness,” Marai said quickly before Aresti could retort. “She’s a trained fighter. I should think you’d be relieved to have more protection for His Highness.”
Vorae grumbled something to Fenir, but said nothing more.
Ruenen approached Aresti and smiled. “I’m glad to have your help.”
He expected her usual dismissive shrug, but instead she nodded respectfully, perhaps under the impression that this was some kind of “audition” for her, though Ruenen couldn’t imagine what for.
“We should be on our way,” Goso said, waving the King’s Guard over towards Ruenen.
Marai met Ruenen’s gaze. His smile turned cat-like. “After you, Lady Marai.”
She shot him a sneer, one Ruenen knew the entire Witan saw, as she raised her hands. Multi-colored magic rushed down her arms and out through gloved fingers. The Witan and guards backed away, tripping over their own feet at the sight of magic. The portal shimmered and crackled into place, revealing glittering snow on the other side. A chill nipped Ruenen’s cheeks.
“This will drop us off a short walk from Lirrstrass and the Glacial Palace.”
Marai had told Ruenen over breakfast that she didn’t want them to simply appear out of thin air in the middle of the unsuspecting capital city of Grelta. That would likely not go well with first impressions.
“I’ll check the area,” Aresti said, and without waiting for a response, stepped into the portal. Councilmen gasped. Goso’s assistant quivered, holding tightly to his briefcase. After a moment, Aresti’s face appeared on the other side. “All clear.”
Avilyard sent four guards in first, followed closely by Goso and his nervous assistant. Ruenen turned around, meeting Holfast’s stern eyes. Every wrinkle was visible in the warning the Steward gave him.
“I’ll keep him safe,” Marai said, noticing Holfast’s serious expression.
Ruenen stepped into the portal, feeling the threads of Marai’s magic swirl around him, caressing his skin as the Glacial Palace came into view.
Frigid air ripped through him, biting at his nose and exposed fingers. A layer of snow coated the ground, crunching beneath Ruenen’s feet. His breath puffed out in whorls.
Right. Back in the North. Ruenen was begrudgingly grateful that Holfast had forced him to wear the white fur cloak. Already, Ruenen missed the temperate spring weather in the Middle Kingdoms. Grelta was still in the throes of winter; they wouldn’t see spring here for several more weeks.
Ruenen had seen the fanciful Glacial Palace before. Something from a storybook, the castle sat before a background of the snow-capped White Ridge Mountains and glistening forests of pine. He’d come to Lirrstrass several times during his travels, before he’d hired Marai. Before they’d begun this insane journey together. Before he’d kissed her in the shed a few hours ago . . .
Don’t think about that. Ruenen forced his eyes to focus ahead on the road, and not to Marai at his side. They hadn’t returned to Grelta as the Lady Butcher and Ard the Bard.
“Come, Your Highness, we must be quick,” Goso said, marching onwards, followed by his assistant.
