by Emma Fenton
Ria struggled to maintain a pleasant expression. Vili’s approval made her all more certain that this Prince Feodor would never truly capture her affection. But if it makes the Council happy, she thought.
Paavo took the letter from Vili and skimmed it. “And from Rüm Bokai, no less. He would be quite a catch. You know, your majesty, Rüm Bokai has the largest salt mines in the world.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, feigning interest. Obviously, she wanted to snap. What exactly did they think she studied all those years under the Elder Scholar? Cloth weaving? She was probably better versed in the advantages of her suitors’ nations than the Council was.
“Yes,” Nasir said in that annoyingly condescending voice of his. “In fact, they own over three quarters of all the salt deposits in the world.”
“I see.” The Council was wearing on her patience, and honestly, she wanted this day to be done with. She wanted to crawl into her bed and forget about Mikhael, and Izan’s strange behavior, and the demon who always popped up when she least wanted him around.
“And your last pick is…oh.” Vili frowned down at the letter in his hand. “No, this won’t do.”
Ria pursed her lips. She hadn’t truly expected the Council to approve of her final choice, but she also hadn’t thought they would give her a letter from a suitor they weren’t at least willing to humor.
Nasir took the letter and read it himself. He sneered. “A Boshun? Don’t all of their nobility think themselves reincarnated gods?”
That was true, at least according to her studies. She supposed the Council would find issue with a man who claimed to be of divine birth. Ria did not particularly care. Boshu was a beautiful country—the paintings she’d seen of it were nothing short of awe-inspiring—and the man in question, Eero Inkeri, had written one of the better letters she’d read. His Helish was imperfect, but at least he’d come across as polite.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to veto this, your majesty,” Vili said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “This man is simply not of a quality to be a Helish king.”
Ria’s jaw clenched, but she maintained a smile. “Why not? He is a noble. He is sufficiently wealthy. And I like the way he writes.”
Nasir snorted and waved the letter in the air. “This is hardly legible.”
“I had little difficulty reading it myself,” she countered. She almost grinned when Nasir’s eye twitched. “A difference in religion is hardly an acceptable reason to decline his proposal.”
“Perhaps if you were not queen,” Paavo said gently. “But the man who stands by your side will be the king of Helhath. He must be an example of our values.”
“So I cannot marry a Boshun man because he is not Helish enough, but you do not have the same issue with Rüm Bokai or Moruna?” Ria asked, her voice rising steadily.
“The Boshun people are pacifists.” Nasir spat the last word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Do you think marrying this Eero Inkeri will change his fundamental beliefs? Do you think he won’t try to change Helhath to fit his world view? We are not currently at war, your majesty, but don’t think for a moment that that makes us the same as Boshu.”
Ria slumped back against her chair tiredly. “You will not compromise on this, I see.”
“There is simply too much of a difference—”
Ria held up her hand, cutting Vili off mid-sentence. She didn’t want to hear whatever excuse they were making. “I will go through the letters once more and find a replacement candidate.”
At this, the Council seemed to pause. Eventually, Nasir spoke. “Perhaps you would consider Lord Izan.”
Ria struggled not to recoil at the idea. “Lord Izan? I do not believe he sent a letter of proposal.”
“No,” Nasir said, hesitant. “But only because that would have been in poor taste. You know he was engaged to your sister.”
“I am aware.” She narrowed her eyes. The uneasy feeling in her gut was back, although this time she knew why. “As such, I do not think he would be interested.”
Vili scoffed. “There would be few better qualified for the position.”
“What I meant, Vili, is that I doubt Lord Izan would be comfortable courting his ex-fiancé’s killer,” Ria said coldly. The three men stared at her, mouths agape. Maybe she ought not to have been quite so blunt, but she really couldn’t think of any other way to put it. “I will look through the letters and give you my third choice by tomorrow.”
She stood, ignoring whatever protests the Council might have had. She was tired, and they had already kept her long enough with this tiring business. They could squabble about her future husband all they wanted, but she was more than done with thinking about marriage. Especially to Lord Izan. Why the Council thought Ria would consider him as a valid candidate was beyond her comprehension. Even without taking into account Ria’s role in Jaya’s very recent death, it was well known that Izan and Ria detested each other.
Ria resolved to put it from her mind as she entered her chambers. The Council was likely only pushing her towards Izan because he was a known entity and because he would have been king if Jaya was still alive. But Ria didn’t think she’d have to worry about him. Izan will never agree to court me, she thought with a sigh of relief. No matter what the position might bring him, he’d still be stuck with me, and I suspect he wants that as little as I do.
She turned her attention to the letters on her desk instead. There wasn’t much point in reading through them all again. All of the cringe-worthy ones had already been disposed of, and from the remaining four letters on the table, it didn’t really matter which one Ria picked. She would choose one at random before she met the Council tomorrow and hope that they wouldn’t find yet another unreasonable excuse to veto the man.
But that was tomorrow’s problem. For now, she would rest.
Chapter Nine
Ria woke with a sharp gasp, clutching at her chest where only moments ago she’d felt a knife pierce through. There was nothing there except the thunderous beating of her heart and the thin cotton of her nightgown. She blinked against the darkness of her chambers and tried to catch her breath. It was only a dream, she told herself.
But trying to remember the dream was like scooping up water in her hands; she only caught a few glimpses of images and thoughts before the rest slipped from her mind entirely. She could only remember the searing pain of the blade breaching her chest and a feeling of ice-cold dread in her stomach. The rest was a blur.
Ria lit the candle next to her bed. She knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anytime soon. It was still dark outside, but the horizon was a shade or two lighter than the rest of the night sky. An hour or so before dawn, Ria guessed. No one would be awake except for the night guards.
And maybe the Elder Scholar. Ria grabbed a simple dress and threw it on, not bothering with lacing it up in the back as properly as Sofi would have demanded. She had put off talking with the Elder Scholar for too long. The man, though often cryptic and demanding, had become a strange source of comfort for Ria over the past few weeks. She missed him, and she felt guilty for having avoided him for so long.
She made her way to the library first. The Elder Scholar probably wasn’t in there at this hour, but it was worth checking. As she’d suspected, it was empty, and Ria didn’t linger. Her love for the library was tainted by her fear of the shadow-faced men who she only ever seemed to run into when she was alone. Though she was queen now, she was still certain that they were a threat. Ria had considered ordering the Council to find and deal with the threat, but what was she supposed to say? Yes, Nasir, I saw men who had no faces lurking around the library at night. No, Villi, I’m not wasting the Council’s time. No, I don’t know how to find them or when they’ll show up again. The Council would never believe her, and their respect for her was already nonexistent. She didn’t need them thinking she was crazy too.
And they’d been willing to let me die so Jaya could take the throne, Ria noted. Even if I am their queen, I doub
t they’d be all that invested in protecting me.
Moving as quickly and quietly as possible just in case there was someone—or something—lurking around the darkened corners, Ria hurried to the Elder Scholar’s private study. Even if the man wasn’t in there at present, she could wait for him. She used the entrance behind the suit of armor and ducked inside. The room was pitch black aside from the faint glow of Ria’s own candle. He’s not here yet. Her eyes adjusted slowly as she looked around for more candles to light.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw a shadow dart away from the corner. Ria rounded on it, fear rising like acid in her throat. She had no weapon but the candle—which didn’t really count—and no idea of what she could use in the room to defend herself, but she acted on instinct, lurching forward to tackle the shadow to the ground. It was solid beneath her touch and grunted loudly as they both slammed into the stone floor. Despite being firmly on top of the figure, a dull, yet forceful pain shot down her back, knocking the breath out of her. Ria almost rolled her eyes.
“Ria, darling, I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Peryn drawled from beneath her, “but the stone floor is a touch uncomfortable. Let me up, won’t you?”
“Bastard,” she muttered, scowling. She pushed away from him and scrambled to her feet, holding the candle up between them so she could see his face. He stood, brushing dust from his clothes.
“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he said, lips curving into a smirk. She barely resisted the urge to shove him to the floor again.
“What are you doing here? Lurking in the darkness like some sort of murderer?” she snapped instead.
His smirk split into a full-on grin. “Did I startle you?”
“No.” She straightened her shoulders and turned her nose up as if daring him to contradict her. Ria just hoped he couldn’t see the heat she felt in her face. Peryn merely chuckled and sat on the edge of the Elder Scholar’s desk, arms folded.
“What brings you by so early in the morning?” he asked.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He raised his brows. “So accusatory, Ria. And here I was just trying to have a nice conversation.”
At this, Ria huffed a humorless laugh. “You don’t have to play innocent with me. I know what you are.”
She just had to remember. The problem with Peryn was that it was easy to forget that he was some immortal force of darkness when he looked and acted so human. When he snorted, or fell to the ground gracelessly, or teased her…well, these were things she just hadn’t ever expected a demon to do. Ria forced the memory of the summoning to the front of her mind, forced herself to remember that no matter how he acted, the only reason he wasn’t trying to torture her into handing him ten-thousand souls was because he physically couldn’t.
Peryn sighed, running his hands through his hair. Another too-human gesture.
“I’m here because I wanted to snoop around while your Elder Scholar was gone. He has books I’ve never seen before. I hoped that one of them might contain the solution to dissolving our bond.” He looked at her expectantly. “Your turn.”
Ria narrowed her eyes at him. “How did you find this place?”
“Ah, ah, ah. You don’t get two questions in a row,” he reprimanded, though his voice was light. Teasing. “Answer mine, and then you can ask another.”
Seeing that he wasn’t going to budge and more than a little curious about what Peryn hoped to gain from his little game, Ria sighed. “I had a nightmare. I thought talking to the Elder Scholar might soothe some of my concerns.”
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he asked, smug.
She raised a brow, a smile tugging at her own lips. “You don’t get two questions in a row.”
Whatever reaction she was expecting, it wasn’t the quiet, shaking laughter that had Peryn swaying on his precarious perch on the desk. He’d smirked at her before, grinned at her discomfort, chuckled when he teased her, but this…this was more genuine. There was nothing calculated about this laugh, nothing practiced in the way he gasped to catch his breath. And when he finally stopped and brought his attention back to her, the humor was still dancing in his eyes. Humor, and wonder, and something unnervingly like delight. Ria did not understand it.
“Of course.” A small smile still pulled at his lips, though it was clear he was at least trying to look serious again. He motioned for her to continue. “My bad.”
Ria stared at him for a moment. Did I break him? Or is he just defective? The demons from her childhood stories were terrifying shadow monsters, and though Peryn could be intimidating when he wanted, he was not exactly what she’d imagined. The demon spirits she’d grown to expect were supposed to be angry, hateful, vengeful things who thrived on chaos. Ria’s nursemaid had told her that demons only experienced twisted versions of happiness: taking sadistic pleasure in the tragedy of others, satisfaction at swindling away another innocent soul, or pride in the destruction they caused. But joy—true, exuberance—was supposed to be beyond them.
That did not seem to be the case for Peryn.
“How did you find the Elder Scholar’s private study?” she asked.
Peryn looked entirely unimpressed by her question. “I’m an immortal demon trapped in your realm for the foreseeable future with nowhere to go and nothing to do. I can’t talk to anyone—present company excluded—because I have no way of explaining my presence in Helhath, let alone the palace. I think you and I can both agree it would be a bad idea for anyone to know I’m a demon that you summoned to help you secure the throne. But I don’t exactly blend in with the crowd.”
He gestured vaguely at himself, and Ria had to agree. Peryn’s skin was far too light to pass him off as Helish, so bright Ria would bet he could disappear in the snow. That in and of itself wasn’t necessarily an issue; traders and merchants came from Etheri all the time, and it would be easy enough to claim Peryn was just a foreign sailor or something like that. The real problem—in Ria’s opinion—was that Peryn would draw too much attention no matter where he went. He was absurdly beautiful, the kind of face that you wouldn’t be likely to forget.
And even that on its own would be fine if it weren’t for the fact that they had to interact with each other in an attempt to figure out how to break the bond between them. Which meant that there was always a risk of someone seeing the queen of Helhath with the strange dark-haired man, especially if Peryn continued to stay in the palace. No simply put-together identity would hold up under the scrutiny. And things would only look more and more suspicious if neither Peryn nor Ria could come up with a believable explanation.
If anyone sees him in the palace, she thought with growing dread, it would be a disaster. If anyone sees us together…oh the Council will hang me out to dry. Public opinion will drop. It’ll be a scandal.
“I’ve been keeping to shadows, mostly,” Peryn continued, oblivious to Ria’s internal crisis. “It’s rather boring, but I’ve found quite a few interesting places in the palace. The Elder Scholar’s study is one of them. I couldn’t stick around while he was in here, though. I think that milky-looking eye of his might be all-seeing. I could have sworn he knew I was there even though there was no way he should have been able to see me. I decided I’d come back later.”
“Oh.” There was too much for her to process that she couldn’t even think of a proper response. If she’d been fully focused, she might have admonished the demon for poking around where he didn’t belong. She might have been more concerned about the dangerous secrets Peryn could uncover in the Elder Scholar’s office. Instead, she was panicking.
If Peryn noticed, he brushed it aside. “What was your nightmare about?”
Ria’s hand flew to her chest without thought. “I was stabbed. Murdered.”
“By your sister,” Peryn said, nodding along. “Some would call fratricide a very traumatic event.”
“Maybe.” Ria was frowning. Part of her was content to let the dream fade away into nothingness. Surely it was easier if she didn
’t have to remember every gritty detail of her nightmare, right? But at the same time, the empty space where the memory of the dream should have been felt like a persistent itch.
“It’s probably just the stress.” She sighed. “I have no desire to be rushed into marriage. Least of all to Lord Izan. The man hates me. I have no idea why the Council thinks he would be at all interested in courting me.”
“You did kill his fiancé,” Peryn pointed out. He pushed off from the desk and walked towards her. “But I can think of a few reasons he might be inclined to overlook that little detail. At least, for the time being.”
The answer was so glaringly obvious, Ria was a little pissed she hadn’t thought of it until now. The only thing Izan would have to gain from marrying Ria was the crown. He’d been set up to be the next king before Jaya’s death, and Ria couldn’t imagine him giving up on power so easily, even if it meant marrying the woman who had killed his fiancé.
But surely Izan’s not stupid enough to think that I would let him control my decisions, Ria thought with a frown. Even if he managed to become king, the throne is mine by birthright. My authority would always supersede his. He would only have power if I allowed it. Ria snorted at the absurdity of the thought. Over my dead body.
And then, like a sucker punch to the gut, all of the pieces fell together. Bile rose in her throat, nausea churning her stomach with the momentum of a hurricane. It settled just as quickly, leaving her empty. It was as though a glacier had inhabited her body. She could feel nothing but cold dread.
“He’ll wait to kill me until he has the throne, that way he can get power and vengeance without sacrificing anything.” Despite the state of the rest of her body, her voice was level, unwavering. “Upon my death, Izan would have full power.”
“Ingenious, isn’t it?”
Ria’s eyes flashed. “It’s a plot for my death, Peryn. I am not inclined to praise it.”