A Fate of Wrath & Flame (Fate & Flame 1)

“It would go against everything the Ybarisans have stood behind for two thousand years, her most of all. But we don’t know Neilina. Not like you do. Or did. So, who knows? Regardless, none of those scenarios reflect well on Zander as a ruler, making sound decisions for his people. And I’m certain Saoirse is behind the one that marks him as under a Ybarisan spell. I do not know what advantage she seeks to achieve in stoking that rumor, other than in hopes of it getting inside Zander’s head. She’s constantly scheming to get her bony behind seated on the throne and her spindly legs wrapped around my brother. It will never happen. Zander will never marry her.”

Not based on what Zander has told me of Kettling. But if her father is behind Quill’s death, then I can assume she has influential allies in her corner, working to make this happen. “What’s her affinity?”

“To Aoife, like yourself, though nowhere near as powerful. Another burn of jealousy, I’m sure.”

And yet, with these cuffs on my wrists and my complete ignorance of what this body can do, I’d say Saoirse has the advantage.

Patrons mill the royal grounds today as if the murder never happened. If anything, they seem energized, either by the perceived threat or the swirl of gossip. A couple bow before us, and I note how their reverence is no longer centered on Annika. Their greetings are aimed at me. I want to tell them to stop.

Farther down the path, a sparkle catches my eye, drawing my focus to our left to where the gardens part and the sun shimmers off a small lake. A family of swans float on the water’s surface.

“Your Highness?” Elisaf prompts. “Is something the matter?”

I realize I’ve stopped dead. “Wendeline said the nymphaeum was by the lake.” I look around me. “Is this it?” I see nothing but trees and cutting gardens and hedge. There are no statues or stones. Nothing that appears sacred. I don’t know what nymphs look like, but I don’t see anything that might hint at them.

“Here?” Annika laughs. “No. It’s up ahead. Come. I will show you.” She beckons with a nod. “This way.”

We continue along the cobbled path, and I struggle to contain my exhilaration. It comes with a pinch of trepidation. “Can you read me like Zander does? My pulse, I mean.” Can Elisaf?

“He’s finally told you about that.” She twists a fat corkscrew curl between her fingertips. “Interpreting a Ybarisan immortal’s pulse is particularly difficult for our kind, nowhere near as easy as reading a human. I cannot read you. That my brother can, though … that is something peculiar.” She smiles secretly, as if she has thoughts on that but either doesn’t want to share or isn’t permitted to. “Did you know that my mother arranged a marriage for me as well?”

Her words temporarily distract me from the topic of reading pulses. “I didn’t.”

“Yes. I fought with her about it, many times. The last conversation I had with her, we argued.” Annika’s eyebrows gather, the only sign that she is bothered.

“Who are you supposed to marry?”

“A human prince from Skatrana.”

“And that’s bad?”

She sneers. “Their lands are nothing but an abyss of trees and mountains and frigid temperatures. Their capital city, Shadowhelm, is built within caves. Caves!Me, with my affinity to this”—she casts her hands toward the hedges and flowers—“living in a cave with those primitive mongrels.”

“Have you met any of these Skatranans?” I didn’t think there was much travel between the countries.

“Well, no, but I’ve heard about them. Did you ever meet anyone from Skatrana in your sails as a Seacadorian, Elisaf?” She doesn’t look back. She assumes he’s listening.

“I did sail that way once, yes. We docked in Westport, Your Highness.”

“And how would you describe them?”

I glance over my shoulder to find his mouth curved in a thoughtful frown. “Fierce warriors. Adapted to a humble lifestyle.”

She grunts as if his answer is proof of her claims. “I doubt they’ve ever even seen a rosebush. They’d probably eat it if they did. Mother was corresponding with the king for years through letters couriered by Seacadorian ships. My betrothed is to come of age next year, and with your union to Zander, she was hoping to secure safe passage for me through Ybaris. Then, all Islor would need is for Atticus to flash his dimples at a Kier princess, and our family would have its fingers touching four thrones.”

“Will Zander make you honor the arrangement?”

“Even if he wanted to, they will want nothing to do with me given what happened in Cirilea. Islor is too volatile. Besides, I cannot sail to Skatrana. The sirens do not allow immortals to pass in the waters, and I’d prefer not to spend the rest of eternity at the bottom of the sea.”

I file these sea sirens under “more monsters to learn about.”

“I guess we’ve all avoided marriages arranged by our parents.”

She purses her lips. “Does my brother not appeal to you at all?” There’s genuine interest in her tone.

He appeals to me more with each encounter I have with him, but I’m not about to admit that to his sister. “Forgetting Zander’s utter hatred for me for a second, since I woke up in the hedge that night, he has sliced open my hand, locked me in a tower and condemned me to death, then imprisoned me indefinitely.” I use my fingers to mark the many ways Zander has made my life hell so far. “Oh, and now I’m being forced to play his future queen.”

She smiles. “Is that all?”