“Good of you to finally join us,” Silex said snidely from Rayghast’s side. “We half-believed you wouldn’t show, or that we’d need to start the battle without you.”
Silex had joined Rayghast, Commander Shaff, and members of the council as they rode in and out of Dul Tanen to the war camp on the moor all day.
“Queen Rhia was quite convincing in her letter to the Emperor,” Chul replied, giving Silex an unsavory grimace, hinting at the threat the letter had contained. With both of his daughters trapped within Dul Tanen, Emperor Suli had no choice but to send his men.
A second Varanese commander craned his neck, searching the courtyard in the waning light. Servants were already lighting the torches for the evening. “We were hoping to see Her Grace and Her Highness while we’re in the city. Are Queen Rhia and Princess Eriu available?”
“I’m afraid both are indisposed,” Rayghast stated. Chul and his Varanese commanders exchanged dubious glances. “Between the battle and wedding preparations, they’ve worn themselves out.”
Silex sniggered. “Women are so fragile. How tiring could it be to plan a wedding?”
In two days, Eriu was to wed Silex. Rayghast hadn’t allowed Rhia to see her sister since he’d locked her away. The only times Rhia spoke to another soul was when a servant showed up at her door with a tray of food twice a day. Even then, Rayghast made sure the servant never stayed long enough for true conversation, and the door was always guarded by two of his men.
“We should like to see the young princess, at least,” Commander Chul pressed. “Express wishes from the Emperor and Empress.”
Relenting, Rayghast gestured to a servant who exited into the castle.
“Would you be interested in some, uh, dinner before you head over to the camp?” asked Cronhold. “You pressed your army hard to make the journey so, uh, quickly.”
The commander’s dark eyes slid to Rayghast. “We did not have much of a choice.”
“While we wait for the princess, we can enjoy a brief dinner, and then we’ll ride with you to the moor,” Shaff said.
The five Varanese men reluctantly agreed, and followed the council and Shaff inside to the dim, stone dining room, lit by a massive chandelier and roaring fire. For half an hour, Rayghast suffered forced, pleasant conversation with the uptight Varanese commanders, exuberant Cronhold, and unimpressed Silex while they dined.
Princess Eriu still hadn’t come down.
Is the brat refusing? Rayghast impatiently drilled his fingers on the armrests of his chair.
A servant entered the room and tiptoed to Rayghast’s side. He whispered in a low bow, hovering at Rayghast’s ear, “Your Grace, we’re searching the castle, but Princess Eriu is missing.”
Rayghast stood, without making his excuses to the table, and dragged the servant into the hallway by the arm.
“Don’t tell me she’s missing,” Rayhast growled to the trembling man. “I don’t want to hear about more failures. The girl has been locked in her room for days. How could you buffoons lose one stupid child?”
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, we’re not sure, we’re continuing to look, but another servant is also missing. One who regularly tends Queen Rhia.”
“Find her, or it will be your head.” Rayghast shoved the man away and returned to the dining room. The Varanese commanders watched his agitated, heavy gait. Even Shaff recognized that the expression on Rayghast’s face was one to be concerned about. “The princess won’t come down. She’s experiencing wedding jitters, and has upset her stomach. She’s a dramatic child, as I’m sure you know.”
Rayghast doubted a single soul in the room believed his terse lie. Commander Chul appeared ready to argue, but Shaff and Silex were already ushering him and his men from the dining room; servants swept in to clear their plates and goblets.
“You’ll be wanting to see the men. Shall we travel to the camp?” asked Shaff, overly loud and enthusiastic.
Rayghast waited until his commander and the Varanese disappeared into the city, then he turned on his heel and bounded up the dark, chilly staircase.
His guards hastened to unlock Rhia’s door. With a roar, Rayghast kicked it open.
She’d been sitting at her desk, writing by candlelight, fingers splotched with ink. The Queen of Tacorn rose slowly to her feet, eyes wild, face resolute.
She already knew why he was there.
Rayghast’s eyes narrowed on her as he prowled further into the room. “Where is she?”
“I wasn’t expecting a visit from you, Husband,” Rhia said, dipping her eyes down, voice cold as murder. “You haven’t visited my bed for several days. I assumed you were distracted with your war.”
“Where is your sister?” Red, searing anger crept up Rayghast’s neck.
Rhia didn’t even flinch at the animal rage in his voice. “I haven’t left this room, Your Grace. I haven’t seen Eriu in two days.”
Rayghast pulled Rhia forward by her wrist so their faces were inches apart. The fabric of her nightgown’s sleeve was the only thing between his blackened hand and her skin. One touch, and his magic would consume her.
“You did something,” he growled in her face. “You arranged an escape for her.”
“Why would I do such a thing? I’ve been an obedient wife, as you demanded. I’ve told no one of your . . . abnormality. I’ve kept your secret.”
Rayghast stared at her defiant, beautiful face. Gone was the mask of demure compliance; her eyes now two flints of fury. Finally, an honest reaction.
Magic awakened inside him, stretching out like a cat.
Rayghast let go of the queen’s wrist and continued to examine her with his dark gaze. “My father, the late King Hershen, believed I was an atrocity, as well. A prince of royal blood displaying magic? Unacceptable. He thought my powers were a weakness. He thought he could remove them.” Rayghast lifted his hand and stared at the blackened flesh. “How wrong he was.”
Rage rushed through him as he remembered the pain and torture he received from King Hershen’s hand. How the magic had only grown and festered within him; his father’s hatred a rich, fertile soil.
“My father experienced the magic firsthand. One strike too many. One insult piled on top of the other. I could no longer allow him to treat me as if I was nothing more than a worthless Nevandian convict. The magic made quick work of him.”
Rayghast remembered the moment, burned forever into his brain: black smoke had crawled up Hershen’s nose and squeezed his heart to a pulp. Hershen, once so powerful, a villain in Rayghast’s childhood, crumbled to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut. The healers had blamed it on a heart attack. No one was any the wiser to Rayghast’s regicide, a treasonous act alone, but with magic . . . if the rest of Tacorn knew the truth, they’d rise up and refuse to fight in the upcoming battle.
Rhia gaped at him, horrified, backing away against the wall.
