Page 33 of Ties of Starlight

He'd always known her to be... particular. He'd spent hours mooning over her. He was aware of her habits and preferences. She hated anything being out of place. The second a hair came out of place, she noticed immediately and fixed it, much to his dismay. Her clothes were never less than spotless, unless he caught her toward the end of a long shift. At the start though, never so much as a wrinkle. Even her posture was perfect. She never slouched. At least when she thought anyone might see.

When she shelved books, it was always done with an obscene amount of precision and care. No book could be pushed in farther than the one next to it. Dust was unacceptable.

Even when she ate, her bites were tiny and she had a kerchief on hand to dab at her lips so there was never even acrumb left as a blemish. She had better manners than the court despite her human blood and lower status.

She was obsessed with perfection.

Even though he always liked her more because she never quite achieved it. Not the way everyone around him was always perfect. There was always something she missed. At some point, she always slipped up. She slouched. She missed a wisp of hair. A spot of dust. A little jam on the edge of her lip.

How that connected to her nightmares or the strange behavior from their conversation on the road, he hadn't yet put together. But even in the evenings when he would enter their tent, she would primly snap her journal shut and tuck it away in her things, almost perfect. She always missed a tiny little smudge of ink on her finger.

He knew the answers to both his questions had to be within those pages. He also knew he'd be deciding the answer to one of them if he did ever touch the book.

He would have no hope of ever winning her trust or affection if he violated her privacy and read it.

While she was doing her best to keep to their agreement to be peaceable, as each day went by, she only seemed more and more on edge. Despite her protests, it was clear she was hearing harsh whispers which were only feeding into her anxiety and nightmares.

Nyrunn had his opportunity the night before they would reach the Ruins at Heava.

As he passed by Lady Katla, he heard her say, “—hope His Majesty has a guard nearby. There's no telling what she might do. Olaug might have disappeared to ensure he wouldn't go the same way as the last one, and who can blame him?”

Nyrunn cleared his throat, and the group of noblemen and women turned around as he strode up to them. Idoneawas paler than the moon, clutching her bowl from dinner as she was handing it to a servant, both within earshot.

“Your Majesty—” Lady Katla startled, but he just lifted his hand and she fell silent.

He looked over them all. Lady Asa ducked her head, eyes squeezed shut. At least one of them had the decency to at least feign guilt. The guards looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. Several other nobles did the same when Nyrunn fixed them with his glare.

“Lady Katla. I can't say I expected more from you, since no one has ever expected anything of you other than for you to look passably pretty and marry well, and you have yet to achieve either. But I do expect you to shut your runaway mouth and keep my wife's name out of it.” He took another slow, dangerous step, lowering his voice. “Idonea is here, fulfilling her role as Gytha's chosen as a service to you and every single Star Elf in this generation and the next. You should be falling on your knees and thanking her.”

No one responded.

No one moved.

Was it enough? Did they at least fear him because of his father’s blood and reputation enough to obey?

Or would this keep happening behind his back? Gutting a girl who was their better in every way because they were just too blinded by her blood to see it?

He snapped, “And if you can't, then you will stay here and trek back to Novum with no supplies and no map. I would suggest showing some gratitude to your queen.”

The bowl fell from Idonea's fingers. Something dark pulsed behind her wall, but he didn’t need the bond to know what it was as she stared at him in abject horror. The camp was silent.

He straightened up and said, “She will be crowned afterwe emerge from the Constellation Pool. So if you want to see an event unlike any in all our history, you will bridle your tongues, stop your idle gossip, and treat your queen with respect or else you will face my wrath. Do not forget yet whose blood I carry in my veins. King Hrorr should not be so easily forgotten by any of you, and I am my father’s son.”

Lady Katla dropped into a deep curtsy toward Idonea and stammered out, “My deepest apologies. I meant no harm.”

The others also bowed toward her and murmured respects.

Good. Now—

Idonea fled without a word.

Of course. Because staying and accepting their apologies would be too easy. It would make too much sense.

Nyrunn took off after her, ignoring the look he got from Frode as he did so. Idonea disappeared into their tent, and he came in right on her heels.

“Idonea—”

“Why did you do that?” Idonea whipped around, backing away from him, hand sinking into her dress, over the necklace and the birthmark.

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