Page 52 of Of Sword & Silver

“Alaric?” the Sword interrupts.

“That’s the King of Diamonds’ name.” I pick at my nails, still too annoyed to look at him. “Alaric Stone. A little too much, if you ask me, but he never was one for subtlety. Or taste.”

“And you agreed to marry him.” The Sword leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

I glare at him. “No, I agreed to be engaged to him, then made off with a bunch of his stupid shiny shit. And look where it got me.” I look down my nose at him, a hard task considering our size difference, but I’m up to the challenge.

Lara rubs her forehead with two fingers, heaving a sigh.

My words come out through clenched teeth. “I’m going to die if I don’t steal from him one more time. I have to work with a man—no, a Fae male—who clearly thinks the worst of me, and I have to bring my best friend along and hope none of us get killed for the trouble.”

The Sword’s shoulders sag. He doesn’t seem angry anymore, or cruel. He’s frowning, yes, his dark brows drawn, but he’s… sad.

I am too; I’m so upset about all of this that it makes my chest hurt.

Unless that ache’s just the curse.

I push my goblet of wine further away, slicing a hunk of cheese off the wheel in front of me just to give my hands something to do. And my eyes.

I don’t want to look at the Sword.

“You are being so selfish right now,” Lara bursts out.

I nod my head, raising both hands in gratified surprise. “Finally, someone who agrees with me?—”

But Lara’s pointing a finger and it isn’t directed at the Sword. It’s at me. I blink, staring open-mouthed down at her hand.

“Don’t you see?” She makes a disgusted noise. “This is about more than you, Kyrie Ilinus of Sola. This is about more than the curse—look at the wheels the gods have put in motion. The game board is set.”

I attempt to arrange my face into the closest approximation of innocence I can muster.

“Death.” She jerks her head at the Sword, who is as silent as ever. “Chaos.” This time she gestures to me. “Magic.” She points to herself. “That’s a whole lot of power from the pantheon who’s been at war for a very long time, tearing Heska apart in the process.”

“Heska is…” I stop, because I was going to say Heska is fine.

Heska is not fine, and maybe she’s right. Maybe I’ve deluded myself into being as selfish as Lara claims I am.

Lara raises her eyebrows, clearly waiting for a response.

“Heska has a few problems,” I admit.

“The pantheon has been at war for a century,” Lara says in a quiet voice. “You dance around it because you were taught to, and you make the most of it because that’s who you are. You make the most of what you are given. It is your greatest strength and your greatest weakness—but you have to see past it.”

A smart remark is on the tip of my tongue, but I close my mouth.

My silver tongue’s done enough damage to everyone here. Including me. Including my now dead family.

“Throughout Heska, the gods’ territories are all but at war with each other,” Lara continues, her gaze a knife in my chest. “And Doston is on the fringes, watching us weaken, watching the magic wane, and waiting to strike a blow that will fracture Heska and our ways of life forever. This is about more than you, Kyrie. And it always has been.” She glances sidelong at the Sword, who doesn’t move a muscle, just watches me. Waits.

“That was… You’ve been holding that in a while?” I ask lightly.

“The time wasn’t right,” she admits grumpily, tugging at the straps of her teal and cream corset. “It is now, though.”

That rush of power enters the room again. Magic hovers along my skin, so strong it seems to vibrate along my awareness. Every instinct screams to run, the feeling building to an almost unbearable crescendo.

I drag in a breath.

Lara’s eyes have clouded over.

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