“You said his intentions weren’t harmful here, and it’s not like he can do much damage while on that airship.”
She snorts.
“We’ll be there to stop him.”
“I said they didn’t appear to be harmful here. And that speaks nothing as to once he’s in Bron, nor does it mean I’m agreeing to this.” She rubs her arm. Then sighs. “Look, I have to alert my own guards and send word to my queen mum. I also have to find out what time we’re leaving because, oh hulls, I need my wardrobe packed!” Her face takes on a look of panic as she glances down at her evening party dress. She turns to me. “Will you be okay until I return?”
I nod. Yes.
Maybe.
Her gaze falls to my bandaged hands before lifting to narrow in on my eyes. After a moment, my internal mess of emotion sealed beneath the numb suddenly shifts and I look away. Blast her.
She tips her head once. Because abruptly we both know that probably nothing about me is okay. Because in the course of one daft night, I’ve lost both my ability and the only man who ever made me feel safe enough to love.
I peek around the bend at the two Bron soldiers pacing in front of Eogan’s door. Do they know it’s not their king inhabiting his body? I grit my teeth—Let’s just do this—and turn back and shrug because, even though I’m thinking it, my words won’t work.
She sighs. And plants a kiss on my cheek. “Right. I’ll hurry. Forty minutes. And my guards will be here sooner. I’m still not saying I’ll comply with your request. I’m just speaking with my men. If Draewulf moves before then, yell for King Sedric please.”
Her soft footsteps clip down the hall in the direction of Eogan’s room. I hear her voice offer a “Good evening, handsomes” to the guards before her steps fade down the corridor. I lean against the wall to ignore everything except figuring out how to get aboard that ship.
CHAPTER 5
A QUARTER HOUR LATER THE SOUND OF HEAVY footsteps draws my attention to the hallway on my right where three of Rasha’s guards are striding toward me. I tighten the grip on my knives tucked between the folds of my dress and stay planted against the inverted corner that simultaneously allows me to face the approaching guards and the corridor where the group of soldiers are still hovering around Eogan’s shut door. The surly glares the Bron unit has been shooting my way make it clear my presence is considered not only an insult but a threat.
“Her Highness will be along shortly,” the middle Cashlin says quietly when they near me. Reaching into the folds of his red doublet, he pulls out parchment and an ink quill with a tiny pot attached at the tip. “From her.”
My hands are steady as I set down my blades and scribble awkwardly with my right hand, since my gimpy one can no longer write, on the parchment as fast as possible.
When finished, I sign my name at the bottom and hand the ink back.
The three of them settle in place a few feet away, heightening the offense and interest of the Bron and Faelen soldiers. They eye us and almost in unison slip their hands to their sword hilts.
“Perhaps the little Elemental is looking for a duel,” one of the Bron guards says, prompting the others to snicker.
“As long as it’s to the death,” another replies.
A Faelen soldier steps between them and my line of sight. “I’ll caution you both to watch your words.” He waits a moment, then resumes his previous position, and the look the first Bron guard sends me says it’s only the Faelen and Cashlin men’s presence that is keeping him from descending on me.
I finger my knives and stare at them as the seconds tick by.
Those seconds slip into minutes. Which slide into hours.
Two hours pass in the uncomfortable, tension-filled hallway, and it has gone from absolute silence to the occasional weary shuffle of the guards’ leather or metal. The sudden clip-clip-clipping of Rasha’s shoes and the tromping of two guards with her bring me to a standing position.
“My apologies,” she whispers hurriedly, glancing between me and her soldiers. “Sending an immediacy letter to my mum via the High Court runners proved more difficult than expected.” She peers down the other corridor to Eogan’s room. “Has anything happened?”
I shake my head and catch an eyeful from one of her men, whose frown I gather is disapproving the fact I’ve not curtsied before Her Cashlin Highness.
“All has been silent, Princess,” he says.
“When’s the airship scheduled to leave?” I ask.
Rasha turns to me. “In two hours. But—”
A click down the hall echoes loud, and in unison we both freeze.
Eogan’s door opens and his guards step back as a swath of Bron soldiers emerge, and in the middle of them, him.
“But Eogan is boarding now,” Rasha says.