“Is that an empty platitude or declaration of continued fealty?”
“That is me trying to keep my head out of the way of two feuding brother-kings’ swords.”
“There is only one king!” Abarrane snaps.
Theon dips his head in deference. “You are correct, Commander. There is only one king, though two claim the title, and both have come to me, demanding Bellcross’s support.”
“So you have heard from Atticus?”
“Of course, I have heard from him. I did not believe what I was reading, even with the king’s seal on the letter, not until my contacts from Cirilea followed up by messenger on horseback two days later to confirm.”
“Yes, I have seen the lies he is spreading.”
“It is not true, then? The Ybarisan princess’s own blood is not behind this new poison that threatens to ruin us?”
I sigh. There is no point denying it. “That part is true.”
“And yet still you protect her?”
“I do.”
His lips purse. “Please grant me permission to speak freely.”
“You do not need to ask that, Theon. Especially not while we are in private.” Given our history of visiting establishments far less savory than the Goat’s Knoll, I’m surprised he would. But I suppose a crown and an army change things. Right now, though, I have neither, and I need his honesty.
“I’ve known you long enough to know you always see reason. Why would you keep this Ybarisan alive and lose everything? Unless what Atticus claims is true, and you are no longer in your right mind?”
“My mind has never been more right.”
Theon raises his hands in surrender, his tone softer. “You are truly in love, then? With the woman who wants to destroy Islor.”
“I …,” I falter, feeling Abarrane’s steely gaze on me. “I am not in love with Princess Romeria of Ybaris.” Perhaps with Romy Watts of New York, but that is neither here nor there.
“Then please, my friend, explain why you had to flee your city and your throne in the night to save this Ybarisan?”
“There are circumstances at play that I cannot reveal at this time, but she must survive at all costs.” I couldn’t begin to wrap my head around how to explain them, even if I wanted to.
Theon takes his time filling three crystal tumblers with amber liquor from a nearby crystal decanter. I wave the offer away, as does Abarrane. He shrugs and collects a glass for himself. “How did a Ybarisan princess’s blood become toxic to our people?”
“I think you can figure that one out.”
“I’d like to hear you say it.”
“Queen Neilina disagreed with King Barris’s call for peace. She wanted a different outcome, so she had one of her elemental casters summon Aoife. Princess Romeria was born this way.”
“I worried that King Eachann’s aspirations would be his downfall.” He finishes half his drink in a single gulp before topping it up again. “And is the elemental caster who broke that cardinal rule the one who travels with you now?”
“No. The one you are referring to came here to help.” The other one is already in your city.
“Help whom? Neilina?”
“She escaped Neilina. Of that, trust me, I am sure.” Tyree confirmed it.
“So, Mordain?”
“In a manner of speaking, perhaps. But also maybe us. The scribes believe there is a prophecy to end the blood curse, and it requires that Romeria and I work together.”
“The scribes.” Theon shakes his head. “Do they still dedicate their lives to deciphering meaning from delusion?”