Page 56 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

“I’m so happy you’re okay.”

“Yes, it sounds like I have you and a grif to thank for that. Who could have imagined?”

I feel gazes upon us as I peel myself away. Maybe it’s not considered appropriate for queens to hug guards, but I’ve never been one to follow rules, and I’m not about to fall in line now. “Lord Rengard.” I dip my head in greeting. He looks as regal as usual—not a hair out of place, that stripe of gray cutting perfectly through his otherwise jet-black mane.

“Your Highness.” He bows. It’s not deep, but it feels genuine.

The Islorian soldiers around us follow suit as they pass.

Lord Rengard notes them. “It appears the tide is changing in your favor. The common whisper among camp is that Zander won your cold Ybarisan heart over and you two have been scheming together against Queen Neilina to save Islor all this time.”

“I wouldn’t say they’re wrong.” Except my cold heart was that of Romy Watts of New York, the thief abandoned by all loved ones and fighting for survival.

He grins. “I’ve heard many tales of your bravery since we arrived here. At first, I thought they might be exaggerating. But now I should think they are more accurate than not.”

My cheeks burn with what I’m certain is a compliment. “Just trying to fix a lot of wrongs.” How much has Zander told him about my past and my purpose here? They’re good friends and Lord Rengard has proven his loyalty time and time again, but would Zander divulge my deepest truths?

Lord Rengard studies the activity in camp. “I hear there is a fleet of ships from Cirilea arriving in Northmost tomorrow.”

“If all goes well, yes.”

“Common folk traveling through Venhorn to get to this hidden city of yours may not be wise. Especially with all these new creatures crawling out of the rift.”

“I know. I was thinking about that too. The people might need to stay at the port.”

“I am afraid Northmost is not equipped to accommodate that many, especially when the season turns cold. But Bellcross is a relatively short march south. I am sure we could welcome them there for the time being.”

“Really? You would open your city to them?”

He dips his head once. “Consider it done.”

I recall the day we were within Bellcross’s walls—the square of jesters and merchants selling their wares. Elisaf said it was probably the most progressive place in all of Islor for its mortals, mainly due to its lord. “You are a good friend to Zander.”

“Anything for the rightful king of Islor.” He hesitates. “And, it seems, the queen of not one but two realms. I hope I receive an invitation to visit this secret Ulysede.”

“Once all this is over? Absolutely.”

He smiles. “Now, if you will excuse me, it seems I have some letters to write in haste.”

“So do I.” Plus I have jewels to deliver to the captains for their help with rescuing Cirilea’s citizens. A promise I made to Seamus that I intend to keep.

“My city should be prepared within the week.” With another bow, he marches off.

“How is everyone doing here?” I’ll get a different answer from Elisaf than I will Abarrane. “I heard Lord Telor will live?”

“He will, though his recovery may take longer, according to the caster. Two near-death injuries within mere days of each other …” He shakes his head. “Otherwise, the camp seems in decent spirits for the most part. Some confusion over the sudden absence of the blood curse, but that is to be expected, given it’s all they’ve ever known. Most are anxious to close the rift and get back to their loved ones.”

“If only it were that easy.” There is no closing it, not while the nymphs are here.

“Yes, but some truths are better left unsaid,” he says, raising his eyebrows with meaning. “Radomir has carved himself quite the audience while sharing tales of last night’s escapades, which sounded far more exciting than they likely were. He is a natural storyteller.” Elisaf grins. “But he knows more about these beasts than any of us ever did. There was certainly value in inviting the saplings to join our cause. I do not think we could have fought them off so effectively otherwise.”

“That’s why I did it, of course. Because I knew how valuable he would be.”

“Yes, of course. No one doubted your acumen.” Elisaf hums and slips his arm through mine. “Let me lead you through camp, Your Highness, so we may discuss the land and lordship you plan to bestow upon me.”

My bark of laughter turns heads.

Anticipation trumps my guilt as I part the canvas flap and duck inside. The tent Zander sleeps in is small and plain—nothing like the marquee tents during the crown hunt, with rich furs and furniture adorning the king’s quarters. But it’s private, and that’s all I care about.

---