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

Dagny’s eyes light up. “Wouldn’t that be somethin’? We’ve prayed for it, ya know. Every Friday afternoon in the sanctum and with our morning devotions, without fail. Dagnar could recite the Fates’ Prayer when he was a wee one. ’Course it took him some time to get their names right. I doubt the fates minded much, though.” She chuckles, her anticipation bubbling.

I realize my mistake. I don’t want to get her hopes up. “It’s not something that can happen overnight, or even in a few months,” I say slowly. Maybe not in her lifetime, I fear, the more I learn. “Dagnar won’t avoid Presenting Day.”

Her brow furrows deeply as her head bobs. “Aye! Of course! Surely, there are a great many things that must be considered. I wouldn’t begin to assume I understand any of it, being the simple commoner that I am,” she blusters.

“I don’t think you’re simple at all, Dagny.” She does that often, puts herself down. Somewhere along the line, someone convinced her that it was true. “And you know what? Corrin admitted to me that there’s no one else with your talent for stitchwork.” I add in a mock whisper, “Don’t tell her I told you that, though.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” She giggles. There’s a moment’s pause before her thoughts and her mouth are working again. “Ya know, people around Cirilea talk a lot. About a lot of things. I heard them talkin’ the other day about how you and His Highness walked through the rookery handin’ out coin.”

I’m not surprised that made the gossip mill. “They look like they could use it.” I saw Elisaf with a velvet bag strapped to his hip, and I casually mentioned making another trip through there today after the market.

“Albe and I have been fortunate. I started out as a laundress until the last royal seamstress passed on. Albe’s been a herdsman all his life. You know, after our other service.” She says it quietly, like she doesn’t want to admit to their time as tributaries. “Many of those folks in the rookery have run from dreadful situations that I can’t imagine.” She frowns. “But no king or queen has ever done that before. Walked through the rookery, handin’ out coin. Talkin’ to people. Actin’ like they care.”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t have?”

“I’m sayin’ you should. It’s good for them. Gives them hope. A lot of folks are scared. All kinds of whispers of unsettlin’ things lately.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you with their foolishness.” She waves off my question with a swat of her hand. “But it’s good for the people to see yous both out there. It’s important for them to see the good in you, Your Highness.”

I’m sure she’s referring to all the rumors that I murdered the last king and queen. I don’t want to tell her that they’re not wrong.

The carriage rolls to a stop. Elisaf’s boots land on the cobblestone with a thump, and a moment later, our little door creaks open. “We’re here, Your Highness,” he announces with a gracious bow, holding out his hand to help me climb down.

The morning sky is painted a soft blue, the air a few degrees cooler than I’ve grown accustomed to. A breeze kisses my cheek as I take a moment to smooth my skirt and scan our surroundings while Dagny disembarks. We’ve stopped in front of a small shop with a sign that reads Apothecary. I inhale, remembering the horrid salve Wendeline smeared on my shoulder. The faint waft of chamomile and lavender lingers in the air here.

Beyond the shop, the street runs toward the water. Only a sliver of the bay is visible from this angle.

“Would you like my arm?” Elisaf offers, holding it out.

“How debonair. Where is my usual guard?” I tease, curling my hand around his biceps. The leather beneath my fingers is deceptively soft. It feels odd to be holding on to anyone other than Zander when we’re in public.

Elisaf leans in to murmur quietly, “I can tell you where he is not, which is gallivanting through Port Street with the captain of the royal guard nipping at his heels.”

I giggle. “You heard about that?”

“Who do you think arranged for the horses?”

“This way!” Dagny exclaims in a singsong manner, her hips swinging as she marches forward.

Dorkus and eight other soldiers flank us, giving us a few feet of space, thankfully. The rest stay with the horses and carriage.

The market is already teeming with early risers. I feel their surprised stares and hear their whispers of shock as we make our way toward the booths.

“Interesting place, your Goat’s Knoll.” I level Elisaf with a pointed look.

His responding smile is wry. “It is.”

“What were you doing there all those years ago? Enjoying a pint of mead, was it?” I ask with mock innocence.

“I was young and enjoying many adventurous things. Do you wish to travel down this path, Your Highness? Because I heard of a certain alleyway that was far more interesting—”

My elbow shoots out, aiming for his ribs.

He deftly blocks it with a laugh.

“Was that actually a topic of conversation for you guys?” A surge of nerves floods my chest at the reminder of that stolen moment between Zander and me. A moment he deems a mistake, obviously.