ruler turned to at all? Did everyone recognize how far he had fallen?
Did no one else see how much stress and hardship were on Meira now?
And tonight Mather would have to see Meira float around the ballroom on Theron’s arm, and pretend that watching her was enough for him. Though every part of him screamed to fight for her . . . he couldn’t. She hadn’t sought him out in the three months since their return. He’d seen her in passing, in meetings—but that was it.
He didn’t want to have to fight for her. He wanted her to want him, and she didn’t.
She wanted Theron.
As much as it pained Mather to admit, Theron deserved her. It was Theron who had saved her from Spring; Theron who had risked his life to draw Cordell’s army to fight Angra.
And it was Mather who had done nothing while Meira had fallen unconscious at Herod’s feet during the battle. Mather who had paced the halls of Noam’s palace until the floors were nearly worn through while she spent months in Angra’s prison camp. Mather who did nothing now, again, because he didn’t know what he could do for her, and hecouldn’t stand being around her when she had . . . Theron.
He wasn’t king anymore. He wasn’t an orphan anymore. He wasn’t in Meira’s life anymore.
None of this was the freedom he thought he’d wanted.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
Meira
THE TWO-DAY RIDE back from Gaos was too short. Even these final moments, hiding behind my horse in the frigid afternoon air as everyone else heads toward the palace, are too short, and I inhale the scent of the worn leather of the saddle. My mount snorts away the snowflakes that land on his nose but otherwise remains unfazed by the cacophony around him.
“My king, welcome back to Jannuari!” a Cordellan calls, one of those who had accompanied us to Gaos.
Another whoops. “Tonight will be quite the party!”
I wince, the voices creeping up my limbs like fast-moving vines. Theron never promised he’d keep his men silent—and for all my certainty that I can handle this situation on my own, I can’t think of how . I have no idea who the Order of the Lustrate is, or how best to keep the chasm door closed.
“You can claim exhaustion.”
I start and whirl to Nessa, hovering beside me. Conall lingers a few paces away, glaring at the Cordellans with a barely acceptable veil of contempt, while Garrigan watches us.
“He already saw me ride up,” I say.
Nessa shrugs. “It was a long trip. Claim exhaustion and come with us to the palace.”
“Exhaustion wouldn’t be a lie,” Garrigan adds, his attention on my face. No doubt taking note of the circles under my eyes, the sallow color in my cheeks.
A noise pulls me away from Nessa and Garrigan, the steady swoosh of a sleigh bobbing over the uneven, icy road. I watch it glide past us, the silver-and-ivory details marred by cracks and chips in the paint. It was a discovery in the rubble of Jannuari, one of our few possessions that is entirely Winterian, not influenced by Cordellan assistance. This one is enclosed like a boxed wagon, meant for transporting goods, not people.
And goods it carries. Jewels, stones, all mined from Gaos, to be added to the other riches we’ve acquired for payment to Cordell and Autumn.
I toss a feeble smile at Nessa and Garrigan and ease out as the sleigh passes.
Noam stands in a group of his men, talking in a low voice to Theron, who seems even more exhausted than Ifeel. He sees me emerge and turns with a noticeable sigh of relief, dragging his father’s attention.
Noam looks like Theron, only twenty years older, undeniably related and undeniably Cordellan—shoulder-length golden-brown hair going gray at the roots, brown eyes rimmed with lines yet glistening under the cloudy skies. His hip, as usual, bears the holster that cradles Cordell’s conduit, the jewel on the dagger’s hilt emitting a lavender
Did no one else see how much stress and hardship were on Meira now?
And tonight Mather would have to see Meira float around the ballroom on Theron’s arm, and pretend that watching her was enough for him. Though every part of him screamed to fight for her . . . he couldn’t. She hadn’t sought him out in the three months since their return. He’d seen her in passing, in meetings—but that was it.
He didn’t want to have to fight for her. He wanted her to want him, and she didn’t.
She wanted Theron.
As much as it pained Mather to admit, Theron deserved her. It was Theron who had saved her from Spring; Theron who had risked his life to draw Cordell’s army to fight Angra.
And it was Mather who had done nothing while Meira had fallen unconscious at Herod’s feet during the battle. Mather who had paced the halls of Noam’s palace until the floors were nearly worn through while she spent months in Angra’s prison camp. Mather who did nothing now, again, because he didn’t know what he could do for her, and hecouldn’t stand being around her when she had . . . Theron.
He wasn’t king anymore. He wasn’t an orphan anymore. He wasn’t in Meira’s life anymore.
None of this was the freedom he thought he’d wanted.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
Meira
THE TWO-DAY RIDE back from Gaos was too short. Even these final moments, hiding behind my horse in the frigid afternoon air as everyone else heads toward the palace, are too short, and I inhale the scent of the worn leather of the saddle. My mount snorts away the snowflakes that land on his nose but otherwise remains unfazed by the cacophony around him.
“My king, welcome back to Jannuari!” a Cordellan calls, one of those who had accompanied us to Gaos.
Another whoops. “Tonight will be quite the party!”
I wince, the voices creeping up my limbs like fast-moving vines. Theron never promised he’d keep his men silent—and for all my certainty that I can handle this situation on my own, I can’t think of how . I have no idea who the Order of the Lustrate is, or how best to keep the chasm door closed.
“You can claim exhaustion.”
I start and whirl to Nessa, hovering beside me. Conall lingers a few paces away, glaring at the Cordellans with a barely acceptable veil of contempt, while Garrigan watches us.
“He already saw me ride up,” I say.
Nessa shrugs. “It was a long trip. Claim exhaustion and come with us to the palace.”
“Exhaustion wouldn’t be a lie,” Garrigan adds, his attention on my face. No doubt taking note of the circles under my eyes, the sallow color in my cheeks.
A noise pulls me away from Nessa and Garrigan, the steady swoosh of a sleigh bobbing over the uneven, icy road. I watch it glide past us, the silver-and-ivory details marred by cracks and chips in the paint. It was a discovery in the rubble of Jannuari, one of our few possessions that is entirely Winterian, not influenced by Cordellan assistance. This one is enclosed like a boxed wagon, meant for transporting goods, not people.
And goods it carries. Jewels, stones, all mined from Gaos, to be added to the other riches we’ve acquired for payment to Cordell and Autumn.
I toss a feeble smile at Nessa and Garrigan and ease out as the sleigh passes.
Noam stands in a group of his men, talking in a low voice to Theron, who seems even more exhausted than Ifeel. He sees me emerge and turns with a noticeable sigh of relief, dragging his father’s attention.
Noam looks like Theron, only twenty years older, undeniably related and undeniably Cordellan—shoulder-length golden-brown hair going gray at the roots, brown eyes rimmed with lines yet glistening under the cloudy skies. His hip, as usual, bears the holster that cradles Cordell’s conduit, the jewel on the dagger’s hilt emitting a lavender
Similar Books
