“And you’re not afraid of marrying him?” she asked.

“I can’t say it would be my first choice, but no, I’m not afraid of him,” I lied. “Why are all the nobles so upset?”

“They’re worried about what will happen to the crown.”

“But he’s been ruling in his father’s place for months. Why can’t things just continue as they are?”

“It’s not that simple. If King Xyrus dies without passing on the crown, Prince Talin will have the right to challenge his brother.”

Was that why Ceren was upset? Because he was afraid he’d lose the crown to Talin? I knew I couldn’t believe anything he said or did was real—why did I continue to let him fool me? “And how will they determine who gets it?”

“They duel for it. To the death, unless one of them agrees to yield.”

Talin was stronger than Ceren. If there was a duel, he would likely win. That fact would not have escaped Ceren. “Would the people be unhappy if Talin took the throne?”

“No, milady. But there have been rumors that the woman king has her eyes on the Ilarean throne. The people are afraid any kind of dispute here could leave us vulnerable to attack.”

My head spun with all the information. Wars and succession, thrones and crowns. I hadn’t known about any of this before I came here. I’d assumed I could spy on the king, report back to Sami, and save Varenia. But our people weren’t even a consideration to anyone but Ceren, and even then, it was only so he could get the pearls. The king was dying, the kingdom was being threatened from within and without, and right now, my people had no idea that their fate hung in the balance as much as Ilara’s.

      26

   Talin may have been the stronger brother, but Ceren was cunning, and it was this thought that worried me as I sat between them at dinner. They hardly spoke to each other, no doubt lost in their own thoughts about what would happen if it came to a fight for the crown. But I finally felt like I had all the pieces to a puzzle I hadn’t known I was trying to put together. The motivations behind Ceren’s actions—punishing my people, killing the queen, being willing to marry a woman he clearly despised—were now painfully obvious.

As the servants cleared our plates for the dessert course—even a “quick meal” required five courses, it seemed—Ceren tossed his hair over his shoulder and turned to me. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten amid all the turmoil, my lady, but we are only five days from market day at the port.”

I frowned in confusion. “The king is ill. I would hardly expect you to leave his side at a time like this.”

“No, unfortunately. I cannot leave now. Which is why I’ve decided my brother will take you.”

Talin’s head snapped up. “What?”

“It’s a five-day journey by carriage each way. I don’t want my bride gone so long. But you can make the trip in two and a half if you go by horse. You’ll be gone less than a week.”

Talin’s fork clattered to his plate. “I can’t leave now, Ceren. You heard the doctor. Father could die at any time. I have to be here, in New Castle.”

“You have another meeting with Lord Clifton, if I’m not mistaken. With the woman king gathering strength, we need his official pledge to the crown, and his guarantee that his mercenaries will stand with us as well, should it come to that. You can meet with them on your way to the market. I promised Zadie she could go, and I have no intention of going back on my word.”

I glanced at Talin, who looked about ready to leap across the table for his brother’s throat. He knew exactly what Ceren was doing: sending him away while the king lay dying, in hopes that if he took a turn for the worse, Ceren could seize the crown uncontested.

“The trip really isn’t necessary right now,” I protested weakly, but one look at Ceren’s face told me this had nothing to do with me and my desire to visit a market.

“I won’t go,” Talin said finally.

“While father is incapacitated, I am prince regent,” Ceren said coldly. “Which means that my word is law. You’ll go, or I’ll have you thrown in the dungeon for treason.”

My eyes darted back and forth between the brothers, as different as sun and moon, wave and mountain. Talin’s rage was unmistakable, while Ceren sat as impassive as always, cutting delicately at a piece of fruit. He hardly faltered when Talin slammed his fist on the table and stalked out of the dining hall.

“There now,” Ceren said to me. “I promised you a trip to the market, and a trip you shall have.”

“Thank you,” I said, my eyes trailing Talin as he left. I would finally have the chance to warn Sami of how dire things were, yes. But by going to the market, I could be keeping Talin from the crown. And Talin might be the only person capable of stopping Ceren. I could only pray the king would last the week.

* * *

Our traveling party consisted of Talin, Grig, Ebb, two of Ceren’s guards, and me. Captain Osius was left in charge of the king’s guard, and the entire army, should it come to that. I was surprised that Ceren would risk Ilara’s safety by sending his brother away at a time like this, but he obviously thought Talin was a greater threat than the woman king.

Without a coach or wagon at our disposal, we were forced to pack light. Grig attached my small bundle of clothing to my mare’s saddle while the other men filled their saddlebags with food and water. We would be staying in inns along the way, and I would have a few hours on Friday at the market.

Grig hoisted me onto my mare’s back before helping Ebb into her saddle. She had grudgingly agreed to wear breeches and claimed to have some riding experience from her childhood, but she didn’t seem particularly excited about the journey. No one did.

“We’ll meet with Lord Clifton this afternoon,” Talin said as we started down the road. One guard rode in front, the other at the back, while Talin and I rode side by side with Grig and Ebb behind us. We weren’t alone, exactly, but it was the first time we’d been anything close to it since our frantic ride back to New Castle.

“It shouldn’t take long,” he added, “but we’ll have to ride late this evening to make up for lost time. I hope you’re prepared for it. Five days on the road isn’t easy for even a seasoned rider, and the inns we’ll be staying at are humble at best.”

“You forget who you’re speaking to,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “I spent seventeen years in a house smaller than my bedroom at New Castle.”

His eyes flicked to mine. “I have not forgotten.”

We rode in strained silence for most of the day, but I couldn’t help glancing at him every few minutes, willing him to look back. At times the road narrowed, and our horses were forced so close together our legs touched, but all he did was apologize. Look at me! I wanted to scream. And occasionally he did, but he never smiled, and he rarely spoke. Even then, it was just to ask if I needed to rest.