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  He had never managed to form any such bond with Kahlee. She was as indifferent and spoiled as Nya was shy and withdrawn.

  “Her heart is genuine. I would be happy to call her a sister.” Nya lifted the thin wreath that had taken shape. “It really needs some color. Her hair would be so pretty adorned with flowers, don’t you think?”

  Enlin thought of the brightly colored leaves within the Woods of Valoria. Had there been flowers he had not seen?

  He reached out to brush his thumb over his sister’s cheek. “I think you should know I love you, Nyala, and that I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy.”

  The wreath settled in her lap. Her eyes held his. He was the only one he had ever seen her fully look at. Everyone else she avoided eye contact with.

  “I do not fear you will change because you will marry. I know you love me.”

  He would let her think his upcoming marriage was why he had spoken the words. “Have you seen Breeon today?”

  “At breakfast. She sat with me.”

  “And after?”

  “She is in her rooms. She is being properly outfitted, per the King’s orders.”

  Which meant she would have an entourage.

  “She does not like the swooning of her Ladies-in-waiting. I believe she called them ‘swans.’” Nya giggled and picked through the basket at her side.

  “I don’t suppose it would be proper for me to intrude?”

  “I would think not.” Nya reached up and patted his cheek. “She is very beautiful. Inside and out. It is like the light is in her eyes. While in her presence, I thought more than once I heard a song in the air.”

  “A song?” Alayna had spoken of a song, Enlin remembered. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

  Nya lifted a shoulder. Enlin grinned. Her governess would scold her for the gesture. Ladies did not shrug.

  Her fingers trailed gently over a delicate juniper cutting she had worked into the wreath. “I am not sure either,” she whispered, her eyes downcast. “I thought perhaps I was imagining it, but...”

  “Go on,” Enlin encouraged. Nya feared being ridiculed, even by him, though he had never done so.

  “I concentrated to be sure, and I heard it again and again. It was so beautiful and entrancing.”

  Her lashes fluttered up and her head lifted slightly so she peered up at him from beneath them. “The song was there, soft like the whisper of the air that ruffles the stems of the flowers in the spring.”

  She began to hum, her fingers absently tracing the lines of a dusty miller leaf.

  Enlin thought the melody familiar. When had he heard it? He was sure it had not been recently.

  “Do you ever feel we are not alone in this world, En?”

  The hint of the song fled at her words. “What do you mean, Nya?”

  Again, she would not look at him. He knew her well enough to know she feared what he would think of her next words.

  “There are times when I feel the presence of... someone or something, so strongly that it is not possible to deny the existence of it.”

  The words brought Enlin no comfort. Rather, with the threat of unrest at his heels, they brought a frisson of fear. He reached out to clasp one of Nya’s small hands. “Is it possible you are being followed?”

  He watched an answering fear widen her eyes. Her body drew into itself, a tremble moving through her. “Followed? Why would you think that? I meant only that I feel a presence, but not... not around me.”

  Flustered, Nya’s words tumbled over each other. “I explain things so poorly. I apologize, En. I should not have spoken so outrageously.”

  “Nya, I need you to assure me you do not believe you are being followed. I cannot rest easy if I think it is possible.”

  “No one follows me, En.” A sad smile lifted just the corners of her lips. “Does anyone but you really know I even exist?”

  “Nya...”

  She busied her hands in the basket, picking out long stems. “You needn’t placate me, En. I know the truth.”

  Enlin took the stems from her and returned them to the basket, setting it aside. Shifting, he gathered his sister close against his side, wishing there was something he could do to ease the burden of identity she had taken on as who she was.

  “Some people only see what is just beyond the eye and not into the heart. Someday, you will be seen for all that you are.”

  Nya dipped her head into the crook just beneath his arm. The words sank deep and she cradled them as she tried to believe they were true. She would not tell him she wasn’t brave enough to accept the words.

  “Perhaps you would consider drawing Breeon away so I could speak with her? They would not frown upon your presence, would they?”

  Nya was glad Enlin had shifted the subject, but did not like what he suggested. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Must I?”

  The words where whispered, a sure sign he had pushed too far past what she felt comfortable. Enlin ran his hand over the softness of Nya’s hair, wondering if things would have been different for her had she had the love of a mother to raise her.

  He could well imagine the chaos of dressmakers and noble ladies gathered around piles of fabrics and discussing fashion. The last place his shy sister would want to be.

  “No,” he soothed. “I will speak with her later.” Rising, Enlin made a decision to seek out his father. He could not avoid the man forever and there were things that needed to be said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The King was in his private chambers and it was clear he was distressed. He paced, his face taut, his hands clasped behind his back. “Where have you been?” he demanded as Enlin entered.

  “I had business to attend to,” Enlin answered shortly.

  “You should be taking carriage rides and strolls through the market with your betrothed,” the King reprimanded.

  “There is time enough for such things.” A carriage ride would be the perfect place to discuss things privately with Breeon. He doubted there would be time for one before supper. His recollections of Kahlee’s dressmaking sessions were of long days that resulted in preening prances throughout the dining hall for weeks.

  The pacing abruptly halted. His father’s expression was harsh when he turned to face his son. “I have summoned our Knights.”

  Kingdom Silvera had long operated with its own set of rules. They were the central Kingdom between mountains to the northwest and southwest, with several small towns scattered beyond the castle walls.

  The closest surrounding Kingdoms; Vilitia, Vyell, Aviore and Ovsia were allies and each had a company of Knights kept trained and ready, despite the lack of conflict in the past.

  Each Kingdom trained Orders of Knights that met regularly for further training, both physical and mental. The Silver Knights were of the first Order and were those with the highest ranks, earned by skill and favor. It was their duty to protect the Royal families they served. The Valor Knights were of the second Order and their job was to fiercely defend the Silver Knights, to the death, if need be. Each successive Order held the same duty as the Valor Knights. Led by each of the Orders were both mounted and foot men-at-arms that ranged from archers to carpenters.

  Summoning Knights meant half of each Order would be called to defend Kingdom Silvera.

  Enlin was startled, but stayed still and quiet for a moment. If a battle was to be fought, this was exactly what needed to happen. Why his father had determined it was needed was puzzling. “For what reason?”

  “I fear a plot. I have wrestled with this. A call to arms could signal there is unrest, but a marriage is a good enough reason to claim a need for extra men.” The King crossed his arms, his eyes on the woven rug beneath his feet.

  “I have sent messengers to quietly gather the army. I have asked that they arrive before the wedding, without fanfare.”

  “Is there something you aren’t telling me, Father?” There were shadows in his fathers eyes when he raised them and Enlin could see darkn
ess was beginning to gather in the hollows of skin beneath as well.

  The King spun and made his way to one of the tall windows that looked out over the land. “My sins chase me. I have had the thought it would be easier to imprison your betrothed as a traitor, but it would make no difference.”

  A coldness gathered in Enlin’s stomach. “Has something come to light since we spoke last?” Was Breeon in danger? If his father had determined her to be a traitor, there would be nothing he could do to save her.

  “The woman that spoke to you about your marriage...”

  His father’s back and shoulders were straight, the never-ending stance of a King claiming his position. Never let them see you falter. A lesson drilled into a royal male from birth.

  “She spoke things to me as well. I did not listen.”

  Enlin opened his mouth to tell the King he already knew, but the King had begun to speak again, so he waited.

  “At first, I believed it all to be just stories. An amusement for her to spin her tales. Her eyes, Enlin... I would forget she was speaking while I gazed upon her beauty. Her voice was like a song. The words became nothing more than a melody, and so I was content to let them flow without substance.”

  The poetic words were odd coming from his father. It was not a nostalgic reminiscence. His tone was too somber for that. There again, was another reference to a song. To yet another secret, Enlin feared.

  The King clasped his hands behind his back. “How could one believe such things anyway? Angel wings and songs that rise to the heavens to touch the heart of God Himself. And creatures unlike us who choose to be. Wars and supernatural battles fought and won in impossible ways. All of it was far too implausible to believe.”

  Enlin was beginning to think there was no point to what his father was sharing. He wanted to question the King about his mother’s death. Theara had said it was no accident. If his father knew the truth of his sisters, would he also know of his mothers true demise? And if the King did not know, what would it mean if he did for Nyala? For Kahlee?

  Should he ask his questions while the King was lost in his reflections of the past? Would he get another chance?

  “She warned me, Enlin. All those years ago, she warned me. Over and over. And I did not listen. And I am afraid somehow, this woman you have brought here to take as your bride, was sent by her. To warn me again. Only this time, it is too late.”

  Slowly, the King turned, his face grave. “I am afraid, Enlin, my wedding gift to you, will be war.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You aren’t making any sense.”

  Alayna could not have sent Breeon. She would have told him.

  The Woods of Valoria and his cabin were close in proximity. Could it be possible? Enlin shook his head in denial. He had given her every opportunity to tell him everything.

  “She did not send her,” Enlin said aloud, but the words were not convincing, even to him. How ironic it would be had they chosen to place Breeon with Alayna? His need to speak with Breeon almost made him turn to seek her, propriety be ignored.

  The King walked toward him. “Enlin, she told me a feather from an angel wing would signal the end of peace for my Kingdom. That beneath the feet of my enemy, the feathers would be trampled. Take care, she said. ‘Take care to hold what is precious close, because when the last iridescent feather fades into dust, the song will end, and there will be peace no more.’”

  Songs again. Enlin was struggling to keep up. To gather all of the secrets and stories and truths together and hold onto what mattered. To what was true. Was this how Breeon felt, grasping at slivers to put together a picture of what you could not see? And now, his father was speaking in riddles and talking about fairy tales.

  “My men brought me one, Enlin.”

  The fire snapped, an ember sparking out from the stones to fizzle to its death on the stone floor.

  He stared at the man before him. One who had never voiced a weakness in his presence before. Now, he was naming the fantastical words of a woman as the catalyst for the death of the life they knew.

  “A feather, Enlin. A thing of fantasy when she spoke of it. Not reality. And yet, it is unlike anything I have ever seen before. It is there, but it is not there. It glitters like the first dusting of snow as it begins to stick. Like diamonds. And what am I do, Enlin, except call forth the armies and watch the stones of this castle crumble as your bride foresaw? As a woman from my past warned while I turned a deaf ear and thought her fascinating, but fanciful.”

  The heat from the fire was too hot. The light too bright. His father had lost his mind.

  “I try to recall if there were other clues, offered to me as a way to stop it all, but I only hear her speaking of that which is precious being taken from me. I would think she means you, Enlin. You are the future of this Kingdom. Without you, it is lost.”

  “What are you saying, Father? I don’t understand what you are trying to tell me.”

  “I am telling you her words were not stories. The feather is real. One has been given to me. It exists. And, this means, her words were not for amusement at all. Lady Breeon somehow saw the shadow of what was coming. The feather means our Kingdom is losing the peace I have worked so hard to gain.”

  Could Alayna could have sent her? Was there perhaps some plot after all? An attempt at revenge for acts his father had committed against her? He was questioning every moment and every word as he spun to walk away from the vision of the death of his Kingdom. The spewing of it from the King’s own mouth.

  He needed to find the woman he was meant to take as his wife. Would speaking the name of the sorceress bring back her memory? Had Alayna cast some spell so Breeon would remember only what it was she had wanted her to speak?

  What if it was another warning? He had been about to choose not to listen. Enlin had decided he would marry her, and if he was honest with himself, he had made the decision before the sorceress had confirmed her words.

  There were too many hallways. The Lions roared at him from the tapestries on the walls. His boots thudded on the stone.

  Enlin did not knock. Nor did he have the startled servant announce him. He scanned the clusters of women for Breeon and did not see the widening eyes or the sudden whispers as heads leaned in close together.

  Breeon sat amidst it all, her beauty mesmerizing. She was swathed in gold, the layers of it spreading and settling in soft folds around her as she rose at his appearance. The sleeves of the gown were sheer and flowed over her arms to balloon slightly over the gathering at her wrists. Cream-colored embroidered flowers swirled over the soft fabric and made him think of the sunny days of the coming spring, not the dregs of cold left by the winter seeping into his soul.

  The women parted for her. He was not so lost in turmoil he did not recognize another woman would have apologized for his intrusion and docilely inquired as to his needs. Breeon did not. She moved gracefully through the chaos of the room to stop for only a moment in front of him. Her eyes searched his before she took his hand and led him from the room, another faux pas that she cared nothing about.

  Clinging to his senses, Enlin tightened his hold on her fingers and claimed the lead, turning her first down one hallway, and then another, to a set of stairs set behind a wall, and down into an empty room that had not been used in centuries. He pushed the heavy door closed and secured the thick wood slab into the metal arms that would keep anyone from entering.

  The room was cold, and it occurred to him as he turned away from the door that taking her to a dark, cold room alone had probably not been the best idea. Finding the torch set on the wall to one side, Enlin lit it after fumbling around for the supplies he knew were below it in a bowl on a pedestal.

  “I do not want you to be a traitor,” he said to her when he faced her.

  Could they have been happy? If things were different and she had become his bride, could they have defied the odds of aristocracy and found what Weston and his wife had?

  “I am not a traitor.”


  “My Kingdom is falling, just as you said.”

  The gold danced in her eyes from the firelight reflected off the torch. “It is because of me?”

  “Do you know a woman named Alayna? Or of the Woods of Valoria?”

  He watched her contemplate his words. Saw the discouragement and frustration wash over her face before she shook her head gently. “No, I do not believe I do.”

  “I no longer know how to proceed with any of this. Rylan suggests we fake your death, and Weston says we should fight. I had determined to fight, but now...”

  “Where would I go, Prince Enlin?” She walked toward him, closing the short distance. Her chin lifted as she looked up at him. She brought her hand up to rest on his chest. “Have you found out something about me?”

  “No. I have only discovered it is true I should not marry you, and whether I do or not, it seems my Kingdom is doomed.”

  Enlin’s breath caught as the words he had just spoken flared. “Whether I marry you or not, Breeon. My Kingdom will fall either way.” Beneath her hand, his heart began to beat faster.

  The gold in her eyes held his attention. Enlin found he had to think about keeping his breaths even. She was far too close. And not close enough. “I can marry you,” he said, tearing his gaze from hers to look at her mouth.

  She could be his wife. Did he want a wife? She would be his to protect. He would no longer be alone. Did he want that? There would be someone to share his struggles with, his triumphs, the simplicity of his days and the tribulations of ruling a Kingdom. If he had one. There would be no need to seek the solitude of his cabin to quiet the rumblings of his thoughts. He would have her to turn to. If he chose.

  Except he could not. He could not trust her. Could he? He tired of his mind contradicting its own thoughts and feelings. Each time he made a decision about her, something happened to make him question it.

  Breeon stepped back, her hand falling to her side. “I cannot marry you.”

  For a moment, his breath caught in his lungs and he had to focus to free it again to breathe. He curled his fingers at his sides to stop himself for reaching out for her closeness again. “But you cannot tell me why.”