Page 125 of The Duke and the Disciple

“And you saidnothingto me?”

He sighed and turned his eyes downward. “It wasn’t my place, Aesylt.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Imryll stated, cutting in. “As my husband said, this is Aesylt’s choice. She has the information before her now, and she can decide for herself.” She pushed back from the table. “I need some time with everything. Excuse me.”

Aesylt watched her leave and spun on her brother. “What Lord Dereham said, about saving the village...”

“I’ve refused his men every time he’s offered them,” Drazhan said evenly. “That should tell you where I stand on it.”

“And if I turn down this betrothal?”

“Then we will do what we have always done. Handle our own business.”

Aesylt threw her head back with a laugh. “All hail the end of days then. No pressure whatsoever. No, this definitely will not haunt me to my very last step. Save the village or think only of myself and what I want? What kind of choice is that?” She staggered back from the table, tripping over her chair as she tried to stand. “I need...” Her hands flew to her mouth. “Some air. Don’t follow me!”

Aesylt emptiedher belly into a crop of bushes at the south entrance to the Wintergarden. Shaking, she rose to her feet and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, staring into the lush escape beckoning only a few steps away.

But she didn’t crave the comfort of beauty.

Aesylt turned her back on the Wintergarden and moved instead toward the livestock pens.

For the second time in her life, she was at a crossroads.

She couldn’t fathom how everything had slipped away from her so fast. The mess with Val and Marek, the tangled web of lies she’d spun with Rahn, her broken heart... a complete miscalculation of the risks in the celestial realm and never considering the possibility she could become impregnated there and carry that affliction into her own world and life.

But it all had started with Val, she thought as she traced her hands along the thin wires of the chicken coops. It had started with Val and the empty promise she’d made, which had launched her village into the verge of a civil war.

Aesylt wrapped her cloak tight and slipped into a nearby barn. She settled onto a pile of hay in a dark corner and drew her knees to her chest.

If she was the one who had gotten them all into the mess they were in... then she was the one who had to guide them safely out of it.

Pieter waitedin the library for the scholar. He readied himself for the inevitable skewering, which he deserved but was still not looking forward to.

He hadn’t always been so secretive, but one of the crueler lessons he’d learned was that it was a dangerous gambit to put one’s faith in one person or belief system.Always keep your feet in both ponds,an old friend had said, and it had stuck with Pieter, even before he’d really understood the meaning.

He believed in the work the Reliquary was doing, and they were the only institution in the realm with the funds and sponsorship to do it properly. But he abhorred the way they’d pilfered the stewardess’s ideas and then slowly, and wrongly, had edged her out of it altogether.

And while hehadbeen sending regular reports to the archminister about Rahn and Aesylt’s doings, he’d arrogantly believed his endorsement of their commitment was enough to protect them from being extricated.

His old friend had failed to mention that if one straddled two ponds for too long, they tended not to notice they were drowning in both.

The library doors whooshed open. Rahn appeared within the opening, his face as red as the apple Pieter had eaten at breakfast. With his shoulders lifting in hard breaths, the scholar released the doors, and they slammed closed.

Here we go.

“Scholar.” Pieter held his smile, his only visible defense. “I know what Aesylt means to you, but let me assure you?—”

“You are not fit to even speak her name!” Rahn stormed in, his voice thundering. He wore a look bordering on confused, like even he couldn’t discern where all the fire inside of him was being stoked. “You knownothingexcept treachery, Pieter. Save your hollow truths for those more susceptible to your lies.”

Pieter inhaled slowly, tempering his own reaction. He hadn’t expected anyone to be happy after the revelations in the Great Hall—including himself, though no one would waste their tears of pity on him—but he was surprised Tindahl had it in him. The man was absurdly intelligent but woefully disconnected from his emotions. It seemed unlikely he’d ever acknowledge his feelings for Aesylt, but maybe Pieter had been wrong. “Hollow truths? You said nothing at all in the Great Hall, so what good are your words now?”

“It wasn’t my place to speak. And this isn’t about an arranged marriage. It’s about your role in stealing the most meaningful thing Imryll and Aesylt have ever been a part of.”

“Not about me marrying Aesylt, is it?” Pieter raised both of his brows and moved to the drink cart to pour them both a tumbler of mead. “So you’re fine with that? You don’t have any particularly strong personal feelings on the matter?”

“Personal feelings?” Rahn sputtered. “My only concern is that she is allowed to choose for herself, and Drazhan has... had made that clear enough. She’ll choose what’s right for her.”

Pieter spun around, holding both drinks. “Oh, and what choice is that?”

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