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A River of Golden Bones (The Golden Court, #1)(143)

Author:A.K. Mulford

The Amethyst Kingdom

Coming Summer 2024 from Harper Voyager wherever books are sold

The Amethyst Kingdom

Carys didn’t get far from the dining commons, her stewing anger making her pace outside the doors.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Gods, she needed to end this. Leaning against the stone archway, she listened as the competitors finished their lunch, paying particular attention to the footsteps of the people shuffling from the dining commons and into the hallway.

When she had last seen Ersan, neither of them had been particularly adept at fighting. But Carys had developed her fighting prowess in her years of being a soldier in Hale’s army. She only prayed that Ersan had continued on his highborn trajectory and hadn’t invested in his swordsmanship. His wooden leg would surely hinder him in the melee too. At least then the first competition would excise him from her life again.

She listened eagerly for the tap of Ersan’s cane. When it came, she took a deep breath, waiting for Ersan to pass her narrow hiding space between the main entryway and the side corridor.

When Ersan passed, her hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him into the narrow corridor. She hoped it would leave a bruise on his back as she slammed him hard against the carved wood. In the blink of an eye, her knife was unsheathed from her belt, and she stabbed it into the beam a hair’s breadth from Ersan’s head.

Those dark eyes didn’t so much as flinch, as if he’d expected this exact situation to unfold.

“Hello, love,” Ersan said with a wink.

“Stop telling people I’m your Fated,” Carys seethed, ignoring his cavalier greeting.

“This seems a bit like the kind of intimidation Councilor Elwyn warned us against, no?” His smile was taunting, only incensing her further as his eyes shifted to the dagger beside his temple. “Are you nearing your cycle then? You were always particularly murderous around that time—”

She yanked him off the column and smashed him back into it again, hoping every nodule along the carved wood would leave bruises down his spine. Gods, it would feel good to impale her knife into his guts and twist. She pinned him with a venomous look. “I’m not joking! Stop saying we’re Fated!”

His scent hit her like a crashing wave, like Arboan clay and blossoming snowflowers and sunshine over the ocean. He smelled like every good memory that now filled her with grief. It made her fist clench tighter in his starched, white shirt. He’d taken every moment of joy. He’d taken everything from her. And she still didn’t really understand why.

“But it’s the truth. You are my Fated.” Ersan’s midnight eyes twinkled against his lashes, so thick that from a distance they seemed lined with kohl. His face was still all the same sharp lines, but his strong jaw was now covered in dark stubble all the way up to his defined cheekbones. His straight black hair was just long enough to be pulled back into a low knot at the nape of his neck, and stray strands fell across his thick black brows. “Why should I lie to anyone about it?”

“If you weren’t here, you wouldn’t have to lie. And you shouldn’t be here at all,” Carys gritted out, yanking her knife free and clenching it in her hand. She debated holding it against his golden brown skin, wondering how good it might feel to draw blood. “You just couldn’t stay gone, could you?”

“You think I’m here for you?” Ersan chuckled, his mouth quirking with cruel amusement. “You truly have a sense of entitlement, don’t you? Carys, I’m here the same as any contender. I’m here for a crown.”

“What about Arboa?”

Ersan shrugged. “Collam will make an excellent Lord.”

“Collam?” Carys asked incredulously. They couldn’t be speaking of the same boy. Ersan’s younger brother was a gentle, artistic soul. He was a painter and a philosopher, not a politician. Carys hated that when everything had imploded between her and Ersan, she’d lost Collam too. She hated thinking that the boy missed her and their inside jokes and games. She’d abandoned him in some ways . . .

She cleared her throat. It wasn’t her fault. Ersan had kept the most important of secrets from her and had never bothered to explain himself in all the years since. Carys pulled Ersan closer only to shove him back again, banging his head into the beam and rattling his broad shoulders.

He only laughed, the sound grating against Carys and making her clench her jaw. He couldn’t even let her have the satisfaction of rattling him a little bit.