His gaze shifted past the other cretes and landed on Kyrin. She couldn’t quite read his expression, but a light grew in his eyes that seemed to signal an idea. He looked at the leaders again.
“If you want to know the real Emperor Daican and not simply rely on these fantasies you’ve created to believe he wants peace with us, just ask Miss Altair. She’s spent more time in his presence than any of us. She can tell you exactly what kind of man he is.”
Kyrin’s heart jumped into her throat as all eyes swung in her direction. She never imagined they would drag her into this. Her gaze swept each of the opposing leaders, and she brushed her hands across her skirt. Why would any of them listen to her? However, something strengthened inside her, and she stood. After all, she had stood up to Emperor Daican and denied his gods. This should be easy. With a quick glance at Jace, who gave her a nod of reassurance, she stepped forward to stand beside Marcus. Her pulse pounded, and she licked her lips.
“Captain Darq is right.” She momentarily locked her gaze with the leader of the Owl Clan but didn’t hold it. “I served at Auréa Palace before I was found to be a believer in Elôm and nearly executed. I’ve seen how driven and cunning Daican is. I have no doubt he is on a mission to expand Arcacia’s power as far as it will reach. He wants to create a legacy and empire to honor his father’s memory. I think you, of all people, know how family loyalty can drive a person. Anyone who stands in his way is seen as an enemy that must be eliminated without mercy, even his own people.”
She drew a long breath, but no one tried to stop her. “My father, Captain William Altair, was a good soldier. He served Arcacia and he served Daican well. He held no animosity or hatred toward the emperor, and yet . . .”
Kyrin’s voice faltered. She meant to speak of her father with pride and indignation against the injustice of his death, with passion and strength, but she couldn’t stop the tears that overflowed and left warm tracks down her cheeks. She rubbed them away and cleared her throat, but her voice trembled.
“None of that mattered to Daican when he executed him simply for remaining true to his faith in Elôm. If Daican is willing to do that to Arcacian citizens, why would he treat you differently?”
Silence fell for longer than it had all morning. Kyrin breathed hard in and out, fighting the threat of more tears. Marcus put his hand on her shoulder, and Kyrin closed her eyes to let the moment of loss pass. Finally, Lord Vallan’s voice broke the silence, and she opened her eyes again.
“I believe Miss Altair makes a valid point that we would do well to consider. I suggest we break for lunch and resume this discussion this afternoon.” He offered Kyrin a nod of support.
The leaders agreed and all rose. Amidst the commotion, Kyrin made her way back to the others. Kaden and Michael both shared her emotion. When she reached them, Kaden put his arm around her, and she rested her head against his shoulder while the rest of the pain slowly faded.
“Good job,” he murmured. “Father would be proud.”
For the first time in a week, the clouds over Landale broke up and gave them a longed-for look at the sun. Sadly, Charles had to leave that morning, but he left with the hope to return before summer’s end to see Jace. The day passed quietly after the excitement of his visit.
Early that afternoon, Anne and Elanor took their latest sewing projects out to the porch to sit in the sunshine. Anne was determined to soak up as much of it as possible. She missed her usual summer glow. The wet, gloomy weather was making them all dreadfully pale.
“I hope you won’t regret not returning to Ashwood with your uncle,” Anne told Elanor as they settled in. Her friend had turned down the chance to return home, but with the growing danger here, Anne wasn’t sure she should have. As much as she would miss her, she wanted her to be safe.
Elanor shook her head. “Anything I face here is far better than having to marry a man of my father’s choosing.”
Anne really couldn’t argue with that. She would do almost anything to avoid a forced marriage to Goler. Her skin crawled at the mere thought of it. Not for the first time did she thank Elôm that her father cared more about her well-being than about securing a profitable marriage arrangement for her.
They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the sounds of summertime. The baby birds in their nests at the edge of the forest were especially exuberant today.
“Now there’s a lovely sight.”
Anne started, nearly puncturing her finger with her needle. Trask stood grinning at the end of the porch, his arms crossed as he leaned casually against the house.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to enjoy the view of my bride-to-be.”
A smile lifted Anne’s lips, and she looked down at her sewing to hide the warmth creeping into her cheeks. Nothing had really changed by making their betrothal official, and yet giddiness fluttered through her nerves along with a pull to marry this man as soon as possible. Especially when they hadn’t seen each other in days.
Beside her, Elanor rose with her sewing and spoke with a grin in her voice. “I’ll just take this inside.”
The moment she was gone, Trask crossed the porch and slid the now-vacant chair closer to Anne’s before taking a seat. Stretching his legs out, he crossed his ankles and settled in as if he intended to be there a while.
“You’re getting quite comfortable.”
“I don’t have anywhere to be.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.”
He shrugged, appearing unconcerned, and then looked over to study her face, his smile full of warmth.
“I’m serious. You’re taking a huge risk.”
“Don’t worry. I thoroughly searched the area before I came.”
He held out his hand. Anne couldn’t bring herself to scold him again and entwined her fingers with his. If only this could be their daily life. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything.
“I was afraid I wouldn’t see you for a while. Dagren has set regular patrols on the forest road. It had me worried.”
He grinned playfully. “You think a few patrols would stop me from seeing my betrothed?”
Anne laughed. He wouldn’t let her forget she had finally accepted his proposal any time soon. Truthfully, she enjoyed hearing it.
“Don’t worry,” he told her again. “My father warned me about them. Some of the cretes and their dragons persuaded them not to hang around the forest. I don’t think they’ll be back.”
“I’m glad. It sounds like Dagren is confident that, if he can get to one of you, he’ll be able to gain more information.” She didn’t want to imagine the terrible lengths he would go to just to get it.
“We won’t let that happen.” Trask looked around the puddle-spotted yard before his focus returned to her. “So, I was hoping to meet the visiting viscount,” he said, though the way his attention strayed to her lips told her that he wasn’t really thinking about Charles.
“I’m afraid you’re a little too late. He left this morning. We wanted to bring him out to camp but didn’t think it safe with the patrols.”
“That’s a shame.” His eyes rose back to hers. “I hear he kept you out of Goler’s clutches at the party. I wanted to thank him.”
“He did indeed. The night would have been dreadful without him.” She chose to leave out just how beastly Goler had been. No sense in raising Trask’s ire on a lovely day like this. “However, you should know there could be rumors floating around since that night.”
“Oh? What rumors?”
“About Charles and me.”
Trask lifted his brows, but amusement played in his eyes. “Should I be jealous?”
“Not a bit. Charles is a good man and a good friend. Good enough to go along with allowing Goler to believe he has expressed interest in me and that I don’t intend to turn him down. I hate feeling as though I’m taking advantage of his chivalry, but at least Goler doesn’t believe I’m available now, which I’m not.”
Trask’s lips quirked. “Sneaky. I like it.”
She laughed again. “Yes, well, it certainly upset Goler. Hopefully, he knows better than to tread on what he believes is Charles’s territory.” She prayed so. His boldness at the party unnerved her.
Trask stared at the road, almost grinning. “I’d love to see how he must be brooding down at the barracks.” He let out a low chuckle.
“You shouldn’t be so pleased,” she scolded lightly.
“I can’t help it.” His smile remained undimmed.
They sat quietly for a couple of minutes, and Anne imagined their life once they were finally married. Trask’s impatience was starting rub off on her. She looked over at him.
“When did you see your father?”
“The night of the party. I snuck in after everyone left.” All traces of his smile faded. “He’s not well.”
Anne squeezed his hand.
“I wanted to take him out to camp. I offered, but he won’t do it because it would leave the people to Goler and Dagren. He’s right, but . . .” He shook his head. “I’m worried how he’ll survive this if things don’t change.”
Though sharing such worries, Anne tried to encourage him. “I’ll do what I can to visit him more often. Perhaps that will cheer him and he’ll regain his health, especially now that he’s seen you.”
A slow, sad smile worked its way to Trask’s face. He brought her hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss. “I love you.”
“And I love you,” Anne replied. “So did you tell him about us?”
His smile grew. “I did. He was very pleased.”
Anne grinned. That would certainly brighten the baron’s mood.
“Speaking of which.” Trask released her hand and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small cloth bundle. “I wanted to give you something as a token of our betrothal. A ring would be too obvious and draw suspicion, but I hope this will do.”
He carefully unwrapped the bundle to reveal a dainty, silver wirework pendant in the shape of a lily with a perfect white gem in the center. Anne’s breath caught as he laid it in her hand.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Where did you get it?”
“It was my mother’s.”
Again, Anne couldn’t draw a full breath.
“Actually,” Trask said, “my father gave me most of her things the other night. Whatever I could carry, anyway, just to make sure they were safe. As soon as we’re married, they’ll be yours. Consider it my father’s wedding gift.”
Tears wet Anne’s eyes. Trask had loved his mother dearly, so to receive her things meant a great deal. “This is the most precious thing anyone has ever given me.”
Trask stood to fasten the pendant around her neck before reclaiming his seat and her hand.
“You know,” she said, “if Goler sees this, he’ll think it’s from Charles.”
“Let him. I just want you to wear it.”
Anne squeezed his hand again. “I will.”
Kyrin and the others had their lunch with Lord Vallan in the spacious dining room of the citadel. The six supportive clan leaders joined them, so they did not have to worry about arguing at the table, thankfully. After listening to it all morning, pressure squeezed the back of Kyrin’s skull and threatened to grow into a full-blown headache if she wasn’t careful. The crete leaders were actually quite friendly. Their shared desires erased the typical crete suspicion toward outsiders.
Following the meal, Lord Vallan led them back to the great hall, but Darq stopped them just inside.
“I don’t know what will happen this afternoon. Probably more arguing and just as tiresome. I have enough allies here to be confident of Lord Balen’s safety, so not all of you have to stay. Perhaps Talas can show you around.”
He glanced at the crete, who nodded eagerly.
“That is, if you’re comfortable with it,” Darq checked with Balen.
“Of course,” Balen said. “Please, go. I’ll not hold you here.”
In the end, Rayad, Marcus, Glynn, and Novan chose to remain with Balen and Darq to argue their case. Just before they parted, Marcus turned to his siblings.
“Just keep an eye on Michael,” he said, looking specifically at Kaden.
“Hey,” Michael protested. “I’m not a kid. I don’t need babysitters.”
“Still, I promised Mother I’d bring you home in one piece.”
And they all knew how seriously Marcus took his duties.
“Don’t worry, we’ll look after him.” Kaden reached out to tousle Michael’s hair.
With a grunt, Michael shoved his older brother away and glared at him, matting his hair back into place.
Marcus just smiled, and they all parted with the plan to meet back at the Tarn’s house for supper. Talas led the way out of the citadel. At the main bridge, the group split again as Leetra, Timothy, and Aaron left to visit with their own families.
Talas turned to those who remained. “I’d love to take you to my family. My sister and my grandfather would be especially pleased to meet you.”
Everyone responded with enthusiasm. Kyrin couldn’t wait to meet his family. From the moment they had met him, Talas had always been very friendly and easy-going. Not at all like a typical crete, something he said he had inherited from his grandfather.
They traveled for a while through the city to the outer edges. Kyrin felt bad for Jace at the number of bridges they had to cross, but he handled it well. The others probably didn’t even notice the slight sheen of sweat on his face. She gave him a quick smile to keep him encouraged.
The group finally slowed when they approached a dwelling that appeared the same as any other crete house, yet more rooms and floors spread out around the tree than the Tarn’s home. With a light spring to his step, Talas reached the door and knocked. He flashed a grin back at everyone just before it opened.
“Talas!”
A slender woman a little older than Sonah looked out at him with wide eyes.
“Mother!” He immediately swept her into his arms and kissed her cheek.
“When did you get here?”
“Last night.” Talas turned and motioned to the group behind him. “I brought a few friends with me.”
His mother eyed them in bewilderment. Kyrin smiled when the woman’s spring green eyes met hers, hoping to ease her hesitation. After all, not everyone in Talas’s family shared his enthusiasm toward strangers and outsiders.
“Oh, well, please come in,” she said, finding her voice. She stepped aside and motioned them in but raised her brows at her son.
Talas’s grin lacked any contrition.
One by one, they entered the Folkan house, and Talas’s mother closed the door behind them. They turned to face her, and Talas said, “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my mother, Tress Folkan.”
They all smiled as he introduced each of them. Then an eager female voice exclaimed his name, drawing everyone’s attention. A crete girl rushed into the room, straight into Talas’s arms. She was barely five feet tall and about fifteen years old—nearly an adult by crete standards, but to Kyrin she still looked young. Behind her came three more successively older women—all with long dark hair and green eyes, which seemed to be the dominant trait in the Folkan family. Talas greeted them fondly and introduced them as his sisters. Apparently, he had two older brothers as well, though they were married and in their own homes. The youngest of his sisters, Trenna, exuded delight upon meeting them, while the older sisters were more reserved like their mother. Trenna’s sparkling grin matched Talas’s, lighting up her eyes and radiating interest. Kyrin caught Michael fixing his hair again and smoothing his jerkin. She bit her lip to hold back a smile.
After the greetings, Talas asked his mother, “Where are Father and Grandfather?”
Tress motioned deeper into the house. “They’re building on to the back porch . . . and having one of their debates, I believe.”
Talas’s lips quirked wryly, and he
motioned for everyone to follow. Up a short flight of steps and around the other side of the tree, they entered a spacious living area with a wide door leading out to an equally large porch. Just outside stood two crete men. The first was middle-aged with a profile like Talas’s. The second was older, his dark hair heavily streaked with gray. They faced each other, the first crete pinching the bridge of his nose, and Kyrin just caught his exasperated words.
“It’s more than sufficient already. There’s no need to go wider.”
The older crete shrugged. “I don’t think another couple of feet would hurt.”
He said it nonchalantly, but Kyrin detected a subtle humor in his expression, almost like a teasing child. Talas did refer to his grandfather as a bit of a rascal.
Talas cleared his throat, and the two men turned. He stepped out to the porch and embraced his father, and then his grandfather, who gave him a couple of hearty slaps on the back.
“I was just wondering when you’d show up for another visit.” The older crete grinned and then his attention shifted past Talas to Kyrin and the others. “You’ve brought friends, I see.”
Talas motioned them all out. Kyrin lingered near Jace, who remained well away from the edge of the porch where the railing was not yet completed. Another round of introductions followed, and they all greeted Talas’s father, Thel, and his grandfather, Varn.
“How long will you be here?” his grandfather asked.
“Until King Balen can convince at least one of the clan leaders to change their position,” Talas answered. “At least that’s the plan.”
“Well, he’s got a difficult task. I shall aid him with my prayers.”
“He’ll surely appreciate that. We all will.”
Talas stepped to the edge of the newly built section of the porch, as if one stumble didn’t mean a fatal drop of a couple hundred feet. Though Kyrin didn’t fear heights like Jace did, she had a healthy respect for them and would never get so close.