I blink in confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“A Conflux is what royals call for either another monarch, family members of a royal, or a person of high status. Instead of following the normal laws of Orea, those called to a Conflux are exceptions. Brought forward because the subjects of Orea need to see that even people involved within the monarchy are handled and held to some type of law. In this case, a gold-touched pet who’s rumored to have stolen her king’s power and helped assassinate a prince,” he says pointedly.
My face grows hot. “Why are you telling me this?”
He tosses the leaf aside, letting it flutter to the ground. “Because, like I said, I like you. I think King Ravinger might be rotting your head, because all of Orea is not your enemy. I’m not your enemy. Let Second Kingdom do what they do, which is to call you in for questioning, you’ll explain your innocence, and they can give you a slap on the wrist.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true,” he says with a shrug. “The history of the Conflux proves it. I think the most severe punishment was a fine for a hundred thousand gold coins in the last hundred years.”
“Whether that’s true or not, it doesn’t apply to me.”
“Think about it—nobody truly wants to go against Ravinger. We know how powerful he is. But if we let King Midas’s death stand without questioning? The people will be incensed. They’ll get dangerous ideas. Whether it’s to kill another royal without consequence or to take it upon themselves to mete out judgment, both of which we don’t want. That certainly wouldn’t be safe for you.”
I feel the underlying threat of his words like a papercut slicing over my skin.
Manu comes closer, dark eyes imploring. “Piece of advice, Doll, never let the people come up with their own narrative, because you’ll rarely like what they say. But if you take control of this now, if you give testament, then all the monarchs will be able to put on the show that everyone needs to see. We can move past this, and all this talk of war can be put behind us.”
My moiling thoughts twist in an eddy. I have no idea what to say or what to think.
Luckily, I’m saved a response when a guard comes striding forward. “My lady?” The man stops short when he notices Manu and then looks uncertainly between us.
I paste on a forced smile. “Yes?”
“There’s someone here to see you.”
I hesitate, surprise filling me. “Alright.”
“I’ll leave you to it, Lady Auren,” Manu says as he begins to walk away. “Just...think about what I’ve said.”
The guard and I both watch as he departs, and I let out a strained breath before I turn back. “Is there really someone here to see me?” I ask. “Or did you make that up?”
“I’ve been told there’s someone here requesting to see you.”
My brows draw together. “Who?”
“I’m not sure, my lady. I was only sent to fetch you.” He looks around nervously. “I’m sorry that you were out here alone with the Third Kingdom’s advisor. I will alert the other guards and make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” I say, because the last thing I want is for Slade to get angry at his guards. “Lead the way.”
He nods and I follow behind him to return inside the castle, and I wipe my hands over my brown dress, hoping there’s no grass stuck to me anywhere.
To my surprise, he doesn’t lead me anywhere upstairs, but toward the front door of the castle.
“They didn’t allow whoever it is to come inside?” I ask.
“No, my lady. Not without your permission.”
That takes me aback. What must they think? That I have any kind of authority here? It’s strange, even to me.
When we reach the entrance hall, there are three guards waiting by the open door, and at first, I can’t see who’s behind them. Yet when the sound of our footsteps echoes in the large, open space, the guards turn, and my eyes widen at the two figures standing there.
Rissa and Polly.
I stop in my tracks, mouth slightly open in surprise.
“Well, are you just going to stand there?” Rissa asks, delicate blonde brow arched up. “Or are you going to invite us in?”
I wasn’t sure where to bring them, so I settled for the drawing room on the second floor. I haven’t been in here before, but it has plenty of seats and a nice view of the river through the window.
Polly is glaring daggers at me from her spot on the chaise where she sits next to Rissa. Her black dress is covered in mud at the hem, as if she walked through the rivers, straight up to Brackhill’s door. It seems like it’s hanging off of her too, her curves far less noticeable than they were before. Her blonde hair is lackluster and tangled in a braid, but it’s the circles under her bloodshot eyes that are the most shocking. That, and the state of her peeled lips and cuticles. As if she’s been picking at the skin there, shucking them off strip by strip. Polly has always been beautiful, but right now, she’s rundown and almost sickly looking.
“What are you looking at?” she snaps, and I jerk my eyes away from her.
I turn to Rissa, and although she too appears as if she’s lost some weight and looks travel-worn, she doesn’t look worse for wear.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” I tell her.
Rissa looks around the room, eyes lingering on the green striped wallpaper. “Yes, well, when we left Ranhold, I had every intention of taking a cart and getting out of the city, but Polly was in a bad way.”
Polly’s eyes tighten, her head swiveling. “I was fine.”
Rissa presses her lips together. “You were not fine.”
“Well, I didn’t want to go!” she snarls. “You had no right—”
“I took you out of that place before you could kill yourself on dew. As your friend, I had every right.”
Polly turns away, cheeks lifted with color as she stews in her anger.
I watch this exchange in anxious fascination. For years, these two were thick as thieves, always laughing and talking, always so drop-dead gorgeous and put together. It’s almost like they’re two completely different people.
Yet I can somewhat relate. The aftermath of leaving Midas’s grip hasn’t been easy for any of us.
I have snippets of that night with them, of Rissa coming to collect Polly, and my stomach twists. “I forgot,” I admit. “I forgot to tell you to go to the army. How did you know?”
“Some woman with daggers shaved into her hair,” Rissa tells me. “She helped us get out of the castle, too.”
Relief surges through me. I need to remember to thank Lu the next time I see her.
“So you stayed with Fourth’s army?” I ask. “They didn’t give you any trouble?”
Rissa tightens her hands into balls in her lap. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. The hairy giant brute came in and grunted some words every so often, but aside from him, it was fine.”
“Hairy gi—Wait, are you talking about Osrik?”
Rissa sniffs. “Yes.”
An unruly laugh escapes me. “Please tell me that’s not what you called him to his face.”
She blinks her crystal-blue eyes at me. “Of course I did. He wants to behave like a lumbering boor, then I’ll call him as such.”
I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to suppress more amusement. “I can only imagine how well you two got along.”
For some reason, her own cheeks turn pink, and she looks away. “Yes, well. We’ve just arrived, and it was a long, long journey.”
“Of course,” I say soberly. “Did you want to...rest here?”
Rissa says yes at the same time as Polly turns and snaps out a no.
I look between them.
A trundled, weary sigh escapes Rissa. “Polly—”
“No,” she says, lurching to her feet. “I’m done. Done, Rissa. You just dragged me out of Fifth Kingdom, across the Barrens, past disgusting, rotted swamplands, all the way to this stupid kingdom, and I’m done!”
Her chest heaves, her voice shrill.
“I was trying to help you—”
“Well,” Polly seethes, eyes alight. “I didn’t want your help.”