Page 98 of Heir to His Court

“Yes, master.”

He splayed his hand on my stomach. “If you conceive, I will reward you. What would you like?”

“Rest.”

Renaud chuckled. “That, I can give you now. Sleep.”

As I sank into darkness I was aware he’d risen, draped me in his outer robe and lifted me into his arms. I woke briefly when he lay me on his bed, wondering how I had lost the time it took to trek back to the palace.

Slept.

Dreamt.

* * *

He cupped his mother’s face frantically. Picking up her head, he rose and stumbled toward the body and tried to align the stem of her neck with the stump on her shoulders. He never tried to heal anything but a scratch. He never tried to—

“No, son, you'll drain yourself. This cannot be done. A severed head is an injury even Juhainah cannot raise one from.”

He ignored the enemy, her soft voice full of false sympathy. Full of false tears.

His breaths came in gasping hiccups because he knew she spoke the truth; he couldn't heal this. His mother was dead.

Something in him fractured, an essential part of self pulling away to assess the situation while the rest of him grieved.

“Raniel!”

He jerked his head up. The girl's voice that was the only thing that could draw him out of his stupor.

He tried to scrub his hands in the sand as she ran toward him, golden curls gleaming in the sunlight, and threw herself onto her knees in front of him. “Raniel!”

He had to be strong. He hugged her slender shoulders. “Muriel. Are you hurt?”

She glared. “Are you hurt?”

“Where's Nur?”

“She ran.” Muriel’s small face crumpled, then hardened. “Into the forests. Raniel, the temple is gone. They destroyed it. I'm the last.”

He doubted that—some must have hidden in the caves. But if she was the last, he understood his duty. If Muriel died, the Lake would be lost, and he wouldn't have the power to avenge his mother.

“It'll be fine,” he said. “Everything will be fine.”

Pushing to his feet, he turned to Nayya, Muriel’s smaller hand clasped in his. “This is my chosen sister, the last Kuthliele priestess sworn to Avallonne’s Lords. She will serve you.”

“I willnever—” Muriel began, and Raniel squeezed her hand.

“She will serve. She will be useful to you.”Think of the words that will save their lives,an unemotional voice said in his mind. He frowned. His voice. They must grow up, become strong. He lifted his chin, staring into those grave brown eyes. “She's just a child.”

Amusement flickered in Nayya’s gaze. “As are you, son.” She paused and lowered her head. “I won't take your companions from you, Raniel. They have committed no crime. If they will serve, they will remain at your side. They are yours.”

She glanced at the male Raniel assumed was his father, standing several feet away, silent.He is dangerous. Hide your feelings.The male said nothing, did not move.

Nayya turned back to him and studied the weeping girl. “You are both children, and this war between Ayyarah and I was neither of your faults. Come.”

“And Nur?” Raniel asked. He hesitated. “She is a little. . .feral. Your warriors won't hurt her, will they?”

Nayya paused, and her gaze flickered to the forests. She shook her head. “My warriors do not harm children. Come.”

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