“Did you serve me out of pity, then?” Vesper baited without turning. “Now that I’m free of the golden plague, am I no longer your king? Must I add anointing a new first knight to this day’s list of encroaching ceremonies?”
Cyprian knelt until his nose almost touched the obsidian floor. “I beg your forgiveness, Majesty. My loyalty and respect are yours to my last breath. I will see it done.”
Vesper nodded and Cyprian left the room, closing the door behind him. The lantern’s popping flame accentuated the muffled breathing and suppressed criticisms from the three who still remained. Vesper intensified his study of the window, beyond the abandoned courtyard where the land surrendered to vines and flowers—a tender light source competing with the moonlit puddles. A handful of royal scouts had ventured out earlier, following the trail of creeping plants to the edge of the Grim. They hypothesized, by its trajectory, that it led to the Rigamort. It may have even managed to melt a tunnel through the avalanched snow plugging the entrance. Due to the unpredictable behavior and delicate state of the brumal stags, the scouts felt ill-equipped to investigate in depth without their king’s accompaniment. They returned with nothing more than that scant report.
A flurry of white flakes careened against the black sky, blotting out the stars—Dyadia’s prediction of a blizzard proving true. Vesper cursed the timing. They would have to hurry before everything was swallowed up again. He scrubbed his whiskered face, grateful to feel the human features, the soft, giving flesh and bristled scruff, yet at the same time missing his wings and four legs . . . missing the ability to cover large areas in the blink of an eye.
“We’ll ride to the Rigamort. Surely there will be a clue, if nothing else.” He spun on his heel to make for the door, but the queen stood behind him.
Eyes lifted to meet his gaze, she hemmed him between her and the window. “We? You plan to gallivant about the badlands when you should be preparing for the ceremonies? Send your trackers out, fine. But your duty is here, comforting Lady Lyra and smoothing the regent’s ruffled feathers. It is time you learn your place as king.”
His eyebrows lowered. “It is time you learn my place as king.” There was a hardened edge to the rebuke—a gruffness that brooked no argument. “I covet and respect your advice, but from this day forward, it will be delivered as such: advice. Whether in public or alone. You are not my commander, nor even my right hand. You’ll always be my lady mother, but you will address me as a man to be honored, not a boy to be coddled.”
Her face paled, draining the bluish softness to white. The plaits of her silvery hair, woven into her glistening crown, reflected the firelight as she placed a hand on his chest. “The coronation and wedding ceremonies, they’re to take place within the hour. Please reconsider.”
Her humble plea might have softened him at one time, but not now that he’d found himself again. “If I leave while the snow’s still melted, I can make the trip there and back in half the time. Five . . . six hours, at most. Many of the cadaver brambles have been exposed and found dead by our scouts, much like the thorns, so there’s another hurdle lifted.” He placed his hand over hers. “This must be done before the night tide.”
“What will the people think?” pressed the queen. “Or the regent and the princess? How will it look, you leaving in search of another girl?”
“No one is to be told why I’m making the trek. If questioned, you will answer only this: I am the reigning heir of Nerezeth who just awoke from a death sleep. If I wish to postpone the ceremonies for a few hours to gather my thoughts and assess how our altered terrain is affecting my people, none should—” He stopped and shook his head. “None will question me.”
“Heed your words, Your Highness,” Dyadia pleaded, her black-and-white stripes becoming fully visible. Vesper focused on her third eye’s empty socket. “The quietus thrall may have left you hazy—inclined to delusions. If that is the case, you’re endangering this hard-won peace upon nothing more than a dream.”
“I did not dream her touch upon my skin, nor her voice in my head,” Vesper answered. “No more than I dreamed for these past five years that my prideful and implacable half ran and flew beside her in the Ashen Ravine.” He aimed an accusatory frown to the sorceress. “But you let me believe it was a dream. You withheld important details. Convinced me Eldoria’s princess was my missing piece. When all along, I had to complete myself. It took a girl saving me again and again, putting herself at risk each time, a girl who loved me unconditionally—to lead me to that truth. And now, I intend to find her and thank her properly.”
Dyadia maintained an unreadable expression but exchanged glances with the queen.
“What are you saying?” Queen Nova asked of her son, her fingers curling under his, wrinkling the open lapel of his shirt. “That you’re in love with a simple urchin?”
Yes. Vesper kept the answer to himself. There was no question how he felt about Stain when they ran together in the ravine, and it was the only explanation for the emotions careening through his body and mind in this moment. But he didn’t have the luxury of romance or love . . . not with the prophecy hanging over him and two kingdoms.
“Don’t ever call her an urchin,” he answered, struggling to keep his frustration and anxiety in check. “And she’s anything but simple.”
“You have an obligation to fulfill,” the queen refuted. “Not to some girl who happened to befriend you in your temporary vessel when you were trapped in the Ashen Ravine. You are fated to marry Eldoria’s princess.”
His lady mother’s acknowledgment of the magical split held no surprise for him. She was there in the cavern, watching his exiled half take form, which made it sting all the more that neither she nor the sorceress had ever told him.
“Temporary vessel? Ashen Ravine?” Selena furrowed her eyebrows. “What are you all talking about?”
Queen Nova shushed her daughter. “Vesper, please, think of our people. They are the reason we chose to omit certain . . . details.”
“I am thinking of our people. As if I’ve been able to think of anything else over the past five years! My blood can no longer aid them, so I must bring the sun back. I understand that, and will do what it takes. Even if it means marrying someone I don’t love. I’m simply trying to ensure that the one who truly cured me is safe.”
Selena stepped into their circle, still wearing her bewildered expression. She looped an arm through Vesper’s in a show of support. “I want to know what details you’ve been keeping from Vesper. From all of us.”
Queen Nova dipped her head, feigning interest in a row of pearly crickets still clinging to her hem.
Vesper snarled. Part of him understood; he was indignant the day his lord father slipped away . . . indignant and unbending. He had done something irreversible and shortsighted. “I realize you and Dyadia were desperate to save me all those years ago. However, to sway who I loved, what I believed—all for a foretelling? No wonder my faith in this prophecy wavers more with each passing hour.”
“Can you forgive us, my son?” Queen Nova asked, having the decency to look ashamed.
Vesper grimaced. “What choice do I have? You’re my lady mother, and I love you.” He shifted his gaze to Dyadia. “And I need your conjuring and portents.” A splash of acid churned in his stomach. “But oh, to be that stallion again, to crash every piece of furniture in this room; to gallop down flights of stairs, and leave everyone who dares stand in my way in a wake of flame and fury, without a thought as to consequences.” He ground his teeth, seeing the shame on Queen Nova’s face creep across Dyadia’s own. “You both expect me to behave as a gentleman king, after having tasted the power and freedom held within the heart of a beast.” He felt Selena’s eyes on him. Her fingers trembled where they held his bicep. “I fear that’s impossible, because I rather liked being the beast. But, there’s hope for you yet, should I find her. She has a way of reasoning with me, defusing my rage with honesty . . . a talent you both seem to lack.”
A sudden, yipping howl rang out—familiar, yet completely foreign to his kingdom. Vesper glimpsed through the window. Beneath the haze of moonlight and beyond the castle wall, a splotch of red fur settled on its haunches and looked upward. Vesper leaned closer, forehead pressed against the cold glass. As if it had been waiting for him to look down, the svelte creature yipped again, hopped up on four legs, and shook out a long, fluffy tail. Leaving prints on the whitening ground, it sauntered toward the badlands along the flower path.
Vesper’s heartbeat thumped wildly against his sternum. The ancient scrolls had told of winter wolves chasing out all the smaller wild dogs before the earth closed. Although this might appear to be an ordinary fox, it was a miracle, for wherever there was Luce, Stain would be close at hand.