“I’m not going to like this conversation, am I?” She looked up at Ruckus, noting the thin line his mouth had become and the way he was clenching his jaw.
“Honestly,” he said, and sighed, “I’m not sure.”
“It’s doubtful,” Pettus added, then held up both hands and quickly left when Ruckus glared.
Awesome.
*
WHY THEY BOTHERED to call it the Green Room was beyond her, considering that almost all the rooms in this place were painted the same damn color. She was even starting to get sick of the gold. Maybe after all this was done, she’d go home and toss all but her silver jewelry.
Which made her feel like she had a twisted connection to Olena. One she didn’t like.
This happened to be the same room she’d first been brought to after leaving the ship, and the Basileus was seated once more behind his desk. The only major difference was that Magnus and Tilda weren’t alone; occupying two of the leather chairs positioned to the left were Trystan and another man Delaney had never seen before.
He was dressed in dark blues and silver, a clear indicator that he was also a Kint. The way he sat stiffly with a blank expression clued her in that he was probably also a high-standing member. Military, more than likely.
The Basilissa was off to the side, watching the flickering lime-green flames in the fireplace. It happened to be large enough to fit Trystan in, and Delaney momentarily contemplated it.
“You wanted to see us, sir?” Ruckus broke the silence. He’d taken her hand to lead her from the training room, but he had to let it go as soon as they’d entered a more populated section of the castle. The gesture had been sweet.
She rubbed her palms together, finding she missed the feel of him. Truth be told, she was more shaken up by the past events than she’d initially believed.
“That’s the second attack this week,” the Basileus stated finally. With a twist of his expression, he flicked his wrist. “And it is no surprise that Rex Hortan shares in our concerns.” He motioned absently over toward Trystan and the other Kint, as if that were enough explanation.
“Trump Jackan is one of the Rex’s most trusted royal advisers,” Ruckus said, filling her in through the fitting. “His presence means the Rex has a demand.”
“Rex Hortan has requested that your Uprising be rescheduled,” the Basileus said then. He set his blue-green eyes on her, and she realized they were same dark navy as the Kint colors.
She couldn’t help but wonder if he ever wished that the blue had switched with the ring of deep green that circled it. Funny, that he had both Vakar and Kint in his eyes, though she doubted he’d find it so.
“To when?” Ruckus asked at her side. His expression was tight.
“Four days,” Tilda responded, turning from the fire. Her hands were clasped before her, and she at least had the decency to glance away guiltily when Delaney looked at her. “It’s our best chance of putting a stop to these attacks. Once our daughter has Uprisen, the Tars won’t be able to say or do anything.”
Her wording made Delaney pause.
“You don’t seem very excited, Lissa Olena,” Trystan pointed out. He was sitting back in his chair, his legs crossed, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
She knew better. He had to be hating this every bit as much as she did. Even not knowing exactly what the Uprising was, having it sooner had to imply the timetable for their binding had also been moved up.
“Haven’t you been waiting for this since you were a child?” he added.
Had she?
“Yes,” Ruckus answered even though she was pretty sure she hadn’t actually sent the question to him.
“Of course,” she stated, making her tone as nonchalant as possible to mask her growing doubts. They couldn’t actually want her to go through with this, could they? “It caught me off guard, that’s all.”
“We’ve already taken care of most of the details,” Tilda said, and for a moment Delaney was actually grateful to her for attempting to ease some of her worries. Even if she had to do it via cryptic phrasing. “Fortunately, you selected almost everything before leaving for your denzeration. I imagine you feel relieved now, knowing you won’t need to find a dress on such short notice.”
“Yes,” she said, bobbing her head like an idiot, and stopped the moment she realized as much. “That is a relief.”
“What the hell is an Uprising?” she sent to Ruckus, but before he could answer, Trystan abruptly stood.
He adjusted his uniform and motioned at Trump Jackan to rise as well. Once the two of them were standing, his eyes sought hers and the corner of his mouth turned up in what could only be considered an evil smirk.
Like, villainously so. She’d mentally paint on a mustache and imagine him twirling it if it weren’t for the fact that he was legitimately terrifying.
“I’ll be escorting you during the ceremony,” he told her. “As your betrothed, it’s only fitting. Unless you have a different selection in mind?”
It took all her willpower not to glance at Ruckus.
“No, you’re right, of course.” She almost threw up right then and there. The last thing she wanted to do was anything with Trystan.
“This being a Vakar Uprising,” Trump Jackan said, speaking for the first time, the word Vakar coming off almost as a sneer, “the Rex doesn’t feel his presence is necessary. Surely you agree, Basileus Magnus.”
“Absolutely.” The Basileus stood, resting his fingers on the top of his desk.
“Perfect.” Trystan angled his head in a slight bow toward both of the regents before settling back on Delaney. “I’ll see you soon then, Lissa Olena.”
They waited for him and the Trump to go, not risking another sentence until the door had clicked shut behind them. Then the Basileus ran a hand through his hair, and the Basilissa leaned against the fireplace. Their reactions did not help ease Delaney’s tumultuous feelings.
“There was nothing we could do,” the Basileus said a moment later on a heavy sigh. “Turning down the Rex’s suggestion would have drawn too much suspicion. Especially when he’d gone through the trouble of sending one of his advisers with the message, instead of merely having his son inform us.”
“So Trump Jackan’s presence was a power play?” Delaney asked.
“This entire thing is a power play, Miss Grace,” he corrected her sternly. “Unfortunately, having the Uprising sooner is a good plan. It should cease these constant assassination attempts, for one.”
“Why? What will make the Tars stop trying to kill Olena?”
“They could still try.” Magnus shook his head, sending dark black tendrils around his sharp cheeks. “But it’ll be even harder. She’ll have access to the Alter Pool; killing her would be next to impossible so long as she remains close to the castle where she can get to it in time. Generally, once a regent is Uprisen, those against him or her realize that the odds are too low to bother attempting murder.”
“There’s only so much water left in the Alter Pool,” Ruckus explained. “About a hundred years ago a new law was implemented by the Basileus stating that once a new ruler was Uprisen, the old would stop using it to heal.”