Page 63 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“I was so worried about you,” he mumbles into my hair, his body stiff with tension. “When I saw you in the courtyard between those guards without your glamour, I knew something bad was happening. When the queen was killed and they lined up those slaves—” His voice breaks and I feel my heart shatter. “I thought you were next, then they dragged you away. I couldn’t stop them, and everyone in the courtyard was trying to escape, people were getting crushed, so I was helping—” His voice goes high as he rambles, so I pull away from him and cut him off, resting both hands against his cheeks, cradling his face.

“Wilson. It’s okay, I understand.” I don’t explain or mince my words, and I wait for them to sink in. His eyes well upand he pulls me back into a hug, this one much more gentle than the first. I feel bad that I hadn’t thought to seek him out after everything had happened. “I’m a terrible friend, I’m sorry I didn’t come and find you.”

“I love you,” is all he replies with. The words are soft, whispered just for me, but I know Grayson hears them as he stiffens at my side. My heart beats hard in my chest, his quiet confession warming a part of me and soothing a craving I didn’t even know I had. I want to say it back, I do, but the words lodge in my throat. I’ve never experienced love before, is this what it feels like? That warm feeling when I see him, the sentiment that I would do anything, including sacrifice myself, for them?

If Wilson was to die…No, I can’t even complete that thought without my heart threatening to break in my chest. I don’t feel a romantic kind of love towards him, but I feel the same way about him that I do Jayne, who’s watching our interaction with a smile on her face. Pulling away, I laugh to break the tension Grayson seems to be radiating.

“Turns out it takes a lot to kill me,” I joke quietly with a shrug, but I am interrupted by Grayson, who pulls on my arm as he starts walking again, tugging me along behind him.

“Don’t joke about that,” he snaps, not looking at me as he marches forward. The others follow in our wake, Wilson jogging to catch up with us.

“Come on, Grayson, she’s just trying to lighten the mood—”

“Now is not the time, we need to go,” the high mage states, cutting Wilson off without even glancing at him.

We share a look. Something we said has gotten to him, since he’d been fine previously. Fine, if he was going to be like that, then we’ll just ignore him. I glance over at my friend who seems to have the same thought as me.

“Is there going to be food at this thing? I’m starving,” Wilson complains loudly, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads acrossmy face as other lords and ladies turn to stare at him. We are in the main corridor now, and many other people have joined us in the journey to the great hall.

“You’re always starving, you intolerable being,” a familiar, lilting voice retorts, and Wilson’s face completely changes. He lights up, and I know he’s working on his best insults as we reach another hallway. I see the pretty, auburn-haired girl, dressed in her usual colours—a crisscrossing of blues and greens—on the arm of her father. I saw him at the ball with Aileen not long ago, but even if I hadn’t, it’s easy to tell they’re related. He’s wearing a smart shirt and trousers, and a large swath of the same cloth as Aileen’s dress is strapped across his chest.

“Oh, Lady Aileen, how delightful that you could join us,” Wilson greets with what I’m sure is a much more subdued greeting than he was planning. Aileen’s father watches him with an amused expression.

“Lord Bastian, it’s good to see you again.” Grayson steps forward and addresses the man. “Have you met Lady Clarissa of Lake Haven?”

“High Mage Grayson, it’s good to see you as well,” the tall man replies, his accent thick. “Not personally, but I have heard much from my daughter.” He smiles at me before looking at his daughter with open affection. Turning back to the magician, he frowns and quietly asks, “Do you know what this meeting is about?”

Grayson sighs and shakes his head. “No, at this point, you know as much as I do.”

We’re all silent for a few moments before Grayson gestures for us to start walking again. There’s some light talk between everyone, but the tension is obvious, and becomes even more so when we step into the great hall. The tables are arranged as they are during banquets. There are four long rows of tables withplates and food set out as if this is just an ordinary day—except for the presence of all the armed guards who line the walls.

Jayne makes her excuses, and goes to join the other maids and servants who are all standing at one side of the space. I can see that the other three high magicians are already here, sitting at the top of one of the tables. Grayson leads us towards them with Aileen, her father, and Wilson trailing behind us. I remember hearing a phrase once, and I feel it applies in this case—strength in numbers. I hadn’t understood before, but here, with them all surrounding me, I realise what it means.

Taking our seats, we greet the other magicians and engage in small talk as everyone arrives. However, I watch those who are entering the hall. The lords and ladies are dressed up in their finery, all chatting with each other as if nothing happened yesterday. I shake my head as that anger tries to build up within me again.

“Don’t be mad at them. This is all they know,” Aileen tells me quietly, her watchful eyes on me. Arching an eyebrow, I wait for her to continue. “They don’t know adversity like we do. They’ve never had to work a day in their lives. Yesterday was a big shock for them. If they don’t have some sense of normality, then they will crack under the pressure of it.”

I turn to look at the parading nobility again and notice the signs of strain—the tense smiles and staying together in small groups. Aileen is right. I think back to what she said. I had known she was different than everyone else, but I know next to nothing about her.

“What gives you the impression that I’ve faced adversity?” I query, careful to keep my face and voice blank, although internally I nervously await her answer.

“You hold yourself completely differently than the others.” Panic surges through my veins. If Aileen can tell I’m different, won’t the others? I’m supposed to be blending in. I alreadystand out enough from being new to court, and I don’t need something else identifying me as different. “Don’t worry, the others wouldn’t notice it, they are too self-involved,” she quickly reassures me, sensing my unease. “I think, when you’ve faced death and come out on the other side, it changes you and you learn to recognise it in others.”

I think over what she says, and I realise she’s right. Turning away from the brightly coloured nobles, I open my mouth to comment when a loud banging fills the hall. One of the priests has mounted the raised platform at the front of the hall where the thrones sit, currently empty as he thumps his staff against the wooden floor. A hush falls over the room as people hurry to their seats, all turning anxiously to look at the priest. He’s wearing a smug smile, like he has information we don’t and he is loving that fact. He stays silent so long that people start to whisper to each other, confused about what’s going on, until he takes a step forward and clears his throat.

“All rise for the King of Arhaven.”

Seemingly as one, we stand in unison, every set of eyes on the large, arched doors as we wait with bated breath for our king. I’ve never felt so much tension in one room before, the air is practically vibrating with it. The king appears in the doorway and pauses as he assesses the scene before him. I’m sure I see a small, smug smile before it’s quickly wiped away into a fierce expression.

That can’t be right, what does he have to be smug about? He just killed his wife. I must be seeing things,I think to myself, however I can’t discard the feeling Iamright, which is something I don’t even want to contemplate right now. Part of me rebels, the part that twists my anger, stirring it up and stoking it to life.

He regularly puts children into slavery and works them until they die. Are you really that surprised?

The king’s eyes flick to me as soon as I think it, holding my stare until I quickly avert my gaze. It was almost like…like he could read my mind.

That’s not possible,I berate myself.It was a coincidence.

When I hear the sound of his booted feet walking through the hall, I raise my head once again, seeing Rhydian following closely behind his father. The crowned prince looks fierce, which I suppose is a good trait to have for ordering troops on the battlefield, but it doesn’t help reassure us in these uncertain times. The other princes trail after, with Michael entering next, but it’s Jacob that my eyes lock onto. He looks awful. A large, purple bruise covers his right eye and his lip is split and swollen. He seems furious as he stares at his father ahead of him, completely different from the happy, bookish prince I’ve come to know.

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