Page 130 of Of Nine So Bold

“We will,” I assured her. “I promise you.”

She nodded as if hanging onto my words, and silently, I swore I’d do whatever it took to make them be true.

35

NIKO

This was not happening.

Clinging to Casimir and Gwyneira’s instructions on how tonotlook like a floundering fool on the verge of drowning, I made myself keep breathing as I walked toward the crowd of giants. The vampire was right, I knew. The Erenlians didn’t need to see my doubts or fears. They needed me focused. So I had to keep my thoughts centered and grounded and not panic about the fact all I’d wanted to do was protect my treluria, not inadvertently nominate myself for acrown.

Never mind that the wall itself was abithard to ignore.

Whispered pleas came from the magical barrier. They hadn’t stopped once since we left the gateway. But the voices didn’t speak with words, exactly. Just strangely distant cries of pain and murmurs of sorrow that somehow communicated what they needed—and what I needed to do.

Except now I realized I might be the only one hearing them.

Whichsurelymeant this wasn’t actually happening.

I did my best to smile at the giants as I approached, but it didn’t seem to help much. They glared or eyed me with suspicion, or sometimes avoided my gaze entirely. Which made sense, really. They didn’t trust me. Animals in nature wererarely friendly to anyone they didn’t trust. Why should giants—or humans or witches or anyone for that matter—behave differently?

But gods, maybe that meant this reallywashappening.

I swallowed hard and reminded myselfagainto keep breathing. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked an Erenlian woman who was struggling to quiet the crying infant in her arms.

She tensed with a soft gasp. Her dark skin was faintly marbled with swirls of tan and golden brown, and her clothes were as threadbare as the blanket she tried to wrap around the baby. Nervously, her amber eyes flicked past me to someone near the wall. “N-no, thank you.” She bundled the baby closer. “We’re fine.”

Retreating quickly, she disappeared into the crowd.

Gods, was she scared of me?

I glanced over my shoulder.

No, not me. Not exactly. More like she was scared of anyone thinking she wasn’t loyal to the duke—same as probably every other giant here.

Because near the opening through the wall, Norbert was watching me, Brock at his side. The former smirked and said something to Brock, while the latter just stared at me without the slightest hint of a reaction to Norbert’s words.

Both were making it abundantly clear I was under their scrutiny, and so was anyone who spoke to me.

A giant shoved past Ozias, sending him rocking back and nearly colliding with my side. “Move it, dwarves.” The giant glared at us as he strode onward, heading for the duke with a swagger in his step like he knew he’d just proven his loyalty.

Ozias growled, but a cautioning noise from Dex kept him still.

I fought to give no sign of how my heart sank. Gods, I knew our options before now hadn’t been good, considering Duke Ensid intended to leave us in Aneira. But I’d definitely made things worse.

I wasn’t royal. I was a guy who’d grown up as far fromthatas one could get. My home in the forest had been nothing more than a cabin built into a hillside, with moss hanging from the rafters and dirt for a floor. Marnira had decorated with rocks and flowers, and every spring, we’d needed to patch holes in the walls and ceiling to keep mud from getting in. Until Clay came along with his skill for magically crafting clothes, I’d worn baggy homespun shirts and rough leathers I fashioned by hand. Even now, I was more comfortable in a forest than a crowd.

No one could look at me and think I should be nobility, let aloneking.

“Come on,” Dex said as the duke stepped through the opening. “We don’t want him out of our sight for long.”

And then there was that.

At the heart of the group with Gwyneira at my side, I followed them, trying desperately to find a bright side to keep myself from suffocating under this madness.

But then, maybe I was overreacting. After all, this whole thing really could be some kind of mistake. Maybe some distant ancestor of mine, twenty generations removed, had been royal. Maybe everyone here had a distant ancestor like that too. So if one of my friends had touched the wall instead,they’dbe the ones standing here because some thimble-full of royal blood still lived in their veins.

The thought was calming.

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