“On my first night here,” says Harper, “when I rode through these woods and I went from sweating in the heat to shivering in a snowstorm, it was the first moment I really believed you about the curse.”
I glance at her. “Not the music that played on its own?”
“Well, that was … something. But going from early autumn to late winter was literally a smack in the face.” She pauses. “And then finding Freya and the kids …” She shakes her head.
“Ah. You saw how far my kingdom had fallen. The true depth of the curse.”
“No! I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know. But the truth remains.” I remember this too, when Grey and I rode out after Harper’s attempt to escape, when I was worried about what she would find. I’d spent so many seasons confining myself to Ironrose Castle that even I was unaware how difficult life had become for my subjects. I’d known they were hungry and poor, but I hadn’t realized how much. I hadn’t thought I could do anything for them unless I broke the curse.
Harper showed me I was wrong, that the curse wasn’t preventing me from providing for my people—and then she broke the curse anyway.
Yet Lilith is still here. Still making my life hell, just in another way.
I put my hand over Harper’s, where it rests on my arm, and she glances up at me in surprise. For an instant, I expect her to jerk her hand away, but she doesn’t. It’s the tiniest allowance, but it holds so much meaning.
This is why Lilith holds so much power over me. Too much emotion is churning in my chest. I have to draw a breath.
“What’s wrong?” she says.
Everything. But I can’t say that. “We only have six weeks before Syhl Shallow will attack, and no matter how many times I try to plan a path to victory, I feel I am destined to fail.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and she looks back at the path. “You think Grey will win?”
I hope he doesn’t. I have no idea what Lilith will do if he does.
I have no idea what will happen to Emberfall if he does.
“Lia Mara once came to me hoping for peace,” I say. “And Grey has aligned himself with her. He has already begun to endear himself to my people. You’ve heard what happened in the town of Blind Hollow.” My guardsmen tried to take Grey—and ended up in a battle with the townspeople. Grey apparently used magic to heal anyone injured in the fray. “They know Emberfall is still weak. Grey did not have to give us a warning of their intentions.”
“I hear a ‘but’ coming.”
“But … it is one thing to be a ruler wishing for peace, and entirely another to be a subject wishing for vengeance. They may have allies here, but I am unsure of what support they have in Syhl Shallow. Lia Mara is one woman. Grey is one man.” I glance at her. “Much like you and me, my lady.”
“You think they’ll have a hard time staying in power?”
“I think they will face a lot of challenges, regardless of whether they win or lose this war. I think it will not be easy to have power shift from a woman like Karis Luran, who held her throne by violence and fear, to a woman like Lia Mara, who seems to value compassion and empathy.”
Harper keeps her eyes forward. “Well, I value those things, too.”
“I know.”
My words fall into the space between us. She is hoping for me to say that I value those qualities as well, and I do, but not in the way that she means. Not in a way that would matter to her.
The gulf between us feels so vast.
Harper frowns when I say nothing more. “I guess compassion and empathy isn’t winning us any followers either.”
I hesitate. “Despite the harm Syhl Shallow has caused to Emberfall, it may not be easy for my people to rally around me, when my entire claim to the throne relies on the line of succession—putting Grey ahead of me. When his magic seems beneficial, not a threat. When my promises of military support have worn thin and proved to be inaccurate.”
“Because of Disi,” Harper says.
“Yes.”
“And that’s my fault.”
She sounds both bitter and repentant. I draw her to a stop and look down at her. “My lady. You cannot possibly feel responsible for failing to produce an army.”
She sighs and starts walking again. “Well. I do.” She glances behind us at the guards, then drops her voice. “It was a lie, Rhen. And now everyone looks at me like I’ve let them down—or that I’m working with the enemy.”
“Your brother, the ‘crown prince of Disi,’ fled to Syhl Shallow with Grey,” I say. I cannot keep the tightness out of my voice. “How could they not?”
She says nothing. Her hand is tense against my arm.
“This sucks,” she finally says.
“Indeed.”
“So what can we do?”
We. Such a small word, but it tightens my chest and makes it hard to swallow. It’s more than I deserve, surely. I want to pull her against me, to bury my face in her neck and remind myself that she’s alive, that she’s here, that she’s safe.
But she’s angry with me, with the choices I’ve made.
I force myself to be content with her hand on my arm. With the word we.
She’s asked me for action. When Lilith asked, I balked.
When Harper asks, I want to leap.
“Many of my Grand Marshals have closed their borders,” I say. “They seem unwilling to acknowledge my right to rule. We were able to stop the rebellion in Silvermoon Harbor, but not without cost. I would be a fool to assume my people are content.” I pause. “Perhaps we should follow Grey’s lead.”
“You want to declare war?”
“No. I want to ask for unity.”
She shudders. “You want to go back to Silvermoon now? It was scary enough when we went before.” She’s quiet for a moment, and I know she is remembering our first visit to Silvermoon Harbor, when we were ambushed—and would have been killed, if not for Grey. “What if we ride up to the gates and they shoot you?”
“They won’t,” I say.
“How do you know?”
“Because I don’t intend to go to them.” A plan has begun to form in my mind. “I intend to invite them here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
HARPER
Freya, my lady-in-waiting, is lacing me into a corseted gown. The bodice is white silk, with red stitching and golden grommets edged by rubies, laced over the top of a layer of shimmering red voile spilling over crimson underskirts. The laces of the bodice are gold satin. The neckline is low and daring, and if I try to bend over, I’ll have a wardrobe malfunction. I generally gravitate toward the breeches and sweaters—the wool blousons, as Freya calls them—in my wardrobe, and I have dozens of stunning dresses for when I need to dress up, but this is by far the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever worn. Even my boots are red leather with gold trim along the heel.
Rhen sent word to all of his Grand Marshals a week ago, and I’ve been dreading this “party” since the instant he mentioned it, but it’s nice to feel pretty for five minutes. As much as I try not to think about it, the scar on my cheek and the limp in my step are a constant reminder that I’ll never be classically beautiful or effortlessly graceful. I’m confident in my strengths, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about my weaknesses.