She rolls her eyes, finally thieving a sip of my mead, face scrunching as her eyes narrow on the offending drink.
“You came via a carter,” I declare, and she thumps the mug back on the table. “You smuggled yourself out of Arithia after your unveiling ceremony while the skies were busy, figuring it would take your pah longer to notice.”
“How very astute of you. Your drink tastes like mud.”
“It’s an acquired taste you’ll have to get used to if you intend to spend the rest of your long existence as a fugitive, carving out a life for yourself in a broken kingdom that’s no place for a sheltered princess with no wits about the world.”
She arches a brow. “Who shat in your stew?”
“Who taught you to speak like that?”
The smallest smile pulls at her lips. “Guess I’m not as sheltered as you think.”
I grunt.
Doubtful.
Silence reigns long enough that she clears her throat, her gaze dropping to the drink still clutched in her hand. “I, ahh … appreciate you agreeing to meet with me. You saved me from a very long trip across the Boltanic Plains.”
She was on her way to Dhomm, then.
“I wasn’t aware I had a choice,” I say, crossing my arms, head tipped as I regard her in the firelight. “Your lark was firmly worded. I’m not used to being ordered around. Not sure I’d take it from anyone else.”
Her cheeks redden, and she nips a guilty glance at me from beneath pale brows. “Sorry. My tutor taught me to lead with a firm hand. His methods were questionable, but I guess some of his teachings had merit.”
Firm hand?
I raise a brow. Wait.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
Still, I fucking wait.
She sighs, drops her gaze to the drink, then blurts, “It was nothing. Just silly things like punishing me with a riding whip across my knuckles whenever I forgot to link my letters.”
My blood turns to magma.
“He whipped you? For forgetting to link your letters?” I ask, my steady voice betraying none of the violence roiling through my veins.
“Asshole, I know. But Pah says only folk with weak hearts complain, so instead, I wrote my tutor hate sonnets I’d send fluttering into the fire,” she says, boasting a victorious smirk. Like she thinks that rights his wrongs. “Now every time I write something with my perfectly linked script, I want to punch him in the throat. Not that I know how to punch, but I’d like to do it anyway.”
“I’d like to cut off his head.”
Her wide eyes snap to mine. She opens her mouth, closes it, shakes her head, dropping her gaze to the drink again.
She probably thinks I’m joking.
I’m not.
I’d like to cut off her pah’s head, too. Though I don’t say that.
“Was that why you used to run away?”
“No.” She snatches my drink and gulps deep enough my brows pull together, then lowers the mug, cringing. “Why are you in The Fade, anyway?”
“Hunting for something. Queen owes me a favor. Cadok’s in Drelgad.” I shrug. “Timing was opportune.”
“And if he finds out?”
“He won’t. Not unless you tell on me.”
“Might consider it. I’m pretty offended by the taste of this drink you let me sip without prior warning.”
I lift a brow. The corner of my mouth tugs up the slightest amount—only because she, too, is smiling. There one instant, gone the next.
My own falls. “You need help with something.”
She settles the drink on the table much softer this time, still nursing the mug while she looks into its half-drained depths and worries her bottom lip.
I sigh.
Leaning forward, I plant my forearms on the table. “What is it, Princess?”
She swallows, and I can hear the violent thump of her heart rallying in the way hearts do when folk are preparing for battle.
Her voice is a rasped whisper when she finally says, “I … can hear him.”
“Who?”
Another swallow, and she looks up at me with glazed eyes, lifting a pale hand to her diadem.
To the Aether Stone.
My blood turns to ice.
I push back against the seat, staring, head full of thoughts I can’t tame enough to push free of my mouth.
A tear shreds down her cheek, and I see her.
Truly see her.
The dark dents beneath her eyes. Her frail, almost skeletal hand, and the way her cheekbones jut out much more than they once did. Her fingernails—chewed so close to the nub she’s made them bleed in places.