Page 31

The room gets extra quiet, the way it does when I drop something breakable.

Knox stares at me for a long, long moment. “You’re very brave, Rose.” Something in his voice leads me to believe he might actually say yes.

My heart beats faster. My flame familiar glows bright with hope.

But then Lark steps forward, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Rose, but there won’t be other children there.”

A lump clogs my throat. “But I’m brave! Knox just said so!”

“You are incredibly brave.” Lark kneels down so her eyes are level with mine. “But Tír Ríoga is most likely going to end up being terribly boring. The negotiations themselves could become…complicated. Which means we’ll do nothing but sit around, listening to people complain for days and days.” She sighs, her shoulders drooping. “I don’t even want to go, and I’m the one who set this all up.”

Knox’s eyes soften. “Lark is right, little warrior. Perhaps another time.”

My flame familiar dims, sharing in my disappointment.

I glance at Uncle Agnar, hoping he’ll take my side, but he crosses his arms and gives me the look. “In. No. Uncertain. Terms. You are not coming on a sensitive diplomatic mission. I’ve got to watch over these two. I can’t watch over you too.”

He stares straight at me, and I stare right back. Just because I’m not allowed to doesn’t mean…

“And if you try to stow away again, I’ll pluck you out of the saddlebag myself and drop you mid-air.”

I gasp, and the flame flickers. “You would not!”

“Try me.” Uncle Agnar’s eye twitches.

My flame familiar pulses sharp and bright, like it’s saying bad words in fire language.

“You’re joking.” I narrow my eyes and point at him. “You’re just worried about me.”

Uncle Agnar’s eyebrows shoot up so high they almost touch his hair. “Of course I’m worried about you. You’re six!”

“Six and three-quarters.” I put my hands on my hips like Mama does when she’s correcting him. “And I came through phoenix fire, remember?”

The twitch near his eye gets bigger. “Yes, and you nearly gave everyone heart failure!”

Everyone’s looking at me now. Leesa’s smiling behind her hand. Bastian glances at me and coughs before staring at his feet. Queen Lark’s gentle eyes make me feel worse about getting mad at her.

I stick my nose in the air and spin around. “Well, I’m not worried at all. And neither is my familiar.”

My flame brightens and shows off by doing a little loop-de-loop.

“Have a nice boring trip without me.” I stomp toward the door. “I’ll just stay here and do boring things like…like eating cake and playing with Dame’s babies when they hatch.”

Uncle Agnar chokes a little. I bet his face is all scrunchy. I skip out of the room, my familiar trailing golden sparkles behind me.

Maybe I will check the packs in the dragon enclosure. Just to see if there’s enough room for a six-and-three-quarters-year-old girl who’s good at holding her breath and staying quiet.

Uncle Agnar can’t drop me mid-air if he never finds me.

I pause at the threshold of our bedchamber, my hand still on the ornate door handle. The space is about the same size as the sitting room, with wall-to-ceiling windows and a door that leads to the private patio. Two giant chandeliers hang overhead, and a large fireplace spans one wall to keep the chill at bay on crisp winter nights.

The unexpected sight before me prompts me to halt my stride at the two cushioned chairs next to the door. On the other side of the room, Lark stands ramrod straight before a potted fern that sits between her vanity and the door to the bathing chamber. Her voice is pitched in a formal cadence so unlike her normal tone.

My lips twitch with amusement, but something in the rigid set of her shoulders tugs at me. This kind of tension doesn’t belong in our private sanctuary.

“Furthermore, the crown must consider the long-term implications for our agricultural interests.” She nods her head to the indifferent plant, each syllable weighted with practiced solemnity. Her hands move in stiff, rehearsed gestures that seem borrowed from the court advisors rather than flowing from her natural grace.

This is a side of my queen I’ve never witnessed.