Page 90 of Heart’s Rescue

Rowan

I’ll Give You My Heart

Voids. I’m trembling and my stomach feels like it’s trying to turn itself inside out. I wish I could write it off as the after-effects of riding the good old teleportation hubs again, but that was hours ago.

No, this is just me freaking the fuck out.

“Stay here,” Aloserin whispers. “And, for the love of the stars, keep your mouth shut.”

We’re standing behind an intricately carved wooden panel in the wall of the king’s throne room. I’ve only ever been inside King Galan’s throne room for festivals, and the place seems achingly enormous now that it’s almost empty. I have a lot of questions I want to ask Aloserin, chief among them being are you screwing with me, but for now, I just nod my head. Aloserin gives me a look that says he trusts me exactly as far as he can reach with his sword. Then he turns, rounds a corner, and walks into the throne room.

“He’s here,” Aloserin announces.

“Well, that’s something, at least.”

My body goes cold. I know that voice, even though I haven’t heard it in ages. I press my eyes to the wooden panel and watch as King Galan of the Kingdom of the Fall enters his throne room. He’s followed by two guards, and I recognize them both as the goons who were playing cards with Phaedron when I’d emerged from the woods and blundered my way through an explanation of why I’d be going with Aloserin to the Crystal City with absolutely no bloodshed.

That means the king sent his personal guards to collect me. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or terrified that there’s so little pressing business in the Kingdom of the Fall’s royal court.

King Galan climbs the three steps to his throne, adjusts his scarlet robes, and sits down. He looks rather uncomfortable.

“Ready?” Aloserin asks.

The king nods. “Bring them in.”

My heart catches somewhere on its climb up the back of my throat. I watch Aloserin stalk out of sight, then turn back to find the king staring straight at me.

“You,” King Galan says.

I freeze. He can’t possibly see me through the layers of delicately carved wood, but I try to smile anyway.

“Please stay silent until you are called for,” Galan finishes.

“We could make sure he stays silent,” one of the guards offers.

Like hell you could, I think. I brush my magic. It’s there. Buried beneath layers of granite and marble and polished tile, but there. Ready to crack this palace open like an egg, if I need to.

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” Galan says.

He looks older than I remember, the king of my subterranean world. Older and more tired and still impossibly, stupidly regal. He turns back to the screen and fixes me with his eyes.

“Is it going to be necessary?” he asks.

“Nope,” I say, through the screen. “Uh, Your Highness.”

He turns away and shifts on the throne like he’s trying to get comfortable. Not that the carved obsidian slab he’s sitting on looks like it would ever, under any circumstances, be comfortable. The guards shuffle on the tiles, adjusting their pikes. I let my gaze drift over the carved stone columns, the stained glass windows, the room that once held thousands and now holds four. There’s the click, click, click of boots across the tile. I turn toward the sound, and there’s Aloserin, walking through the throne room like the cocky son of a bitch he is.

Behind him is Arryn. My heart stops. It’s only been three days since I woke up in the infirmary under Aloserin’s watchful gaze, but somehow, I’d managed to forget just how achingly beautiful the lady from the Worlds Above truly is. She’s wearing an elegant yellow gown, a color that looks like it was made to kiss her dark skin, and her hair tumbles over her shoulders in an explosion of curls. Her dress is open in a wide V across her chest. There’s no sign of void-touch on her exposed skin.

I let myself breathe again. They gave her the flowers. Whatever else they’ve done to her, they treated her void-touch. The wound she got while I was supposed to be protecting her won’t kill her.

Arryn sweeps to a stop at the base of King Galan’s throne. Her skirts rustle around her, then fall silent, and she looks up at the king like she’s not afraid of anything. Something silver winks in her hand; cold fear traces a path up the back of my neck. It looks like you were trying to assassinate the king, Aloserin had said. Voids below, tell me she’s not about to try something that stupid.

There’s a shout from the back of the room. I press myself against the screen, trying to see what’s happening. A moment later two guards come forward, one on either side of the monster.

The prince.

The prisoner.