Chapter One
For the first time since I was stabbed in the back, I am washed and dressed, ready to step outside the stone walls of my castle room. The laughter and crashing of goblets from the food hall is just a faint strain from up here, but it speaks volumes about the number of people below. And I wonder if I am ready to look into the faces of those I saved from the Elite soldiers of my mother’s army.
To see what expression those faces hold.
I wince as the wound in my back twinges.
The Elite soldier ran me through, from back to front, and I barely survived. It hurts to take a full breath—the angry red scars stretch and warp every time I do. Sadra says this will become easier in time.
Three weeks have passed since I helped my “enemy” defeat my mother’s forces. We lost fifty-six Bruma men, and three women.
It is three weeks since I told Jovan that I love him.
And, as I’ve increasingly begun to dread, it is three weeks since I removed my veil in front of the women and children of the king’s assembly.
Now Glacium knows my deepest, darkest secret: I am the Tatuma Olina. The next in line to rule Osolis. I have blue eyes. And I shouldn’t.
I don’t know how the Bruma have reacted. The scars of my past won’t let me believe Jovan or Olandon; I have to see their reactions for myself. I could have left my room a week ago. I’d planned to. But each night I’ve backed out.
Will tonight be any different?
I’ve shown my friends and my brother, to mixed reactions. But I’ve never shown the truth to a whole race of people, or stood there as hundreds of people decide if they will accept or reject me.
It started when the peace delegation arrived from Glacium. I wore a veil back then—always had. It never came off unless I was washing. To remove it would be to bring suffering to any who glimpsed my face . . . including me.
Prince Kedrick was part of the delegation. It seems so long ago when I believed myself to be in love with Prince Kedrick. It was forbidden, of course. No one could ever find out that two members of royalty, who were supposed to be enemies, had overcome their mistrust and cared for each other.
The relationship was doomed from the start, and when Kedrick convinced me to remove my veil at long last, it ended in tragedy. The prince of Glacium took an arrow meant for me.
In the days after his death, the only thing that kept me going was the smolder of revenge. I vowed to find his killer, or die trying. The only clue I had was the arrow fletching I’d snapped off, and the hope that I could somehow find its match.
The blind need to exact my revenge led me to the fighting pits of Glacium, where I met the Bruma of Alzona’s barracks. Looking back, I guess the Outer Rings forced me to grow up. It banished the last of my naivety, the last embers of the girl I used to be. I overcame much of the darkness from my childhood, and pulled through with greater perspective on what I needed to do.
The thought reminds me of what I must do tonight. I look toward the door of my room and grimace. At least my friends from Alzona’s barracks will be here. I’m guaranteed some friendly faces.
Actually, I’m surprised Jovan hasn’t stormed up here to demand I go down.
I sigh. The king of Glacium. The man who complicated everything.
He got under my veil—literally. After spending a night with him, I fled and discovered a hidden community tucked away on the Great Stairway between our two worlds. The residents of this community were of mixed blood. It was here I began to accept who I was: part Bruma, and part Solati.
The real, unanswered, question is how I am half Bruma.
My assumption is that my mother had an affair with a delegate from Glacium during a treaty negotiation. I can only imagine the heart attack the Tatum had when she saw that my eyes were blue.
Instead of admitting her error and supporting her child, she had me veiled at birth. Her secret was covered, hidden just under the surface.
The physical problems of this made me a laughing stock within the court. That would’ve been bad enough, but my mother also had me locked in a tower for most of the first ten years of my life. She had me beaten and abused, inflicting mental warfare to bend me to her will and make sure I would never want to remove my veil.
Her plan had almost worked.
The veil became a looming fear in my mind, a heavy weight I couldn’t shift. The thought of doing so brought on instant panic. If I’m honest . . . it still does, though I have learned to control it.
A loud crash from the food hall makes me jump. It is followed by uproarious laughter. My heart thumps in a wild beat.
. . . At least, I think I can control it. . . .
The younger version of myself would have never imagined she’d take the veil off one day.
I’m not sure I would’ve removed the veil if not for Kedrick. He remains in my heart as the only person who wasn’t afraid to get to know me because of who my mother was. He died to gift me life. Somewhere along the line I realized that. My revenge-filled mind cleared and I decided to treat his sacrifice with respect.
Make no mistake—whoever is guilty for his murder will meet their end. I’m just wise enough now to understand there are other things that take priority.
The door is flung open; perhaps ripped from the hinges is a more apt description. The heavy wood crashes against the stone wall, and in the entrance of my room stands the king of Glacium.
We stare at each other wordlessly. It’s like this every time. I can’t imagine getting over how he makes my heart stop, or how all words disappear from thought when I set my eyes upon him. His piercing blue eyes peer into the very corners of my being.
“Get up,” he says. “You’re going downstairs.”
With all that said, he can be overbearing and pig-headed.
“I’m not going tonight. I’ll go tomorrow,” I reply.
The king strolls into the room and I tense. Jovan never strolls.
The towering man of muscle circles the bed with lazy steps, never removing his gaze from my face.
I lick my lips.
“And what is your reason tonight?” He waits for my answer from the end of the bed, resting one arm against the stone framing.
What is my reason? I’d used pain a few times. Then faked illness another. Fatigue at the start.
“I . . . I don’t feel—”
He chooses that moment to strike. My reflexes are still sharp, but my muscles are weakened from bed rest and injury. One arm is under my knees, and the other encircling my back before the gasp has left my throat.
I glare up into Jovan’s face as he swings me up into his arms. I’m glad to see he’s finally shaved. For a while after I first awoke, his stubble had become unruly.
His jaw is set. “You’re coming to the food hall for dinner, whether you like it or not.”
Damn my breath for coming fast, but it does. I can’t maintain my glare and I feel my eyes widen of their own accord.
Jovan’s eyes lose their glacial edge. “Lina, you have to do this.”
My insides melt as he drops the “O” from my name. It is a form of endearment on Osolis.
He hoists me into a better position and heads to the door. “You might hate me for forcing this, but it needs to be done. You’re worrying yourself sick.”
I lift my arms to wrap them around his neck. I don’t place him in a head lock, but the thought does cross my mind. “Jovan. It’s not a good idea.”