Page 109 of A War of Crowns

Rather like a magpie, young Seraphina had always been fascinated by the sapphire star pendant Edith wore. The pendant Percy had given her for their second Wintertide together, when he told her she would always be his north star.

Edith pressed a gentle kiss to Seraphina’s brow while the younger woman stroked a fingertip against that pendant in silence.

She didn’t need to ask what her goddaughter was thinking. She knew. She recognized the morose cast to Seraphina’s features well enough.

It was a familiar feeling.

One day, darling. One day.

That was all she had ever wanted for her two surrogate daughters. That was all she had ever prayed for.

Safety. Happiness.

And that they might, one day, find a man who would look at them as Percy had always looked at her—ready to defend her against any danger that might threaten. A man who would look at them as Sir Dacre was looking at Olivia now.

As if he were a man drowning and she the only air he ever again wished to breathe.

Chapter thirty-one

Seraphina

It was a brisk day, filled with all the crispness of autumn, although summer had only just begun. Seraphina shivered as she rode through the King’s Forest—a stretch of woods spanning a great distance behind the palace.

It was the perfect place for the courtiers to engage in a spot of hunting if they needed sport. Her father had been quite the huntsman.

She had never really taken to it, though.

But the edges of the forest were deserted, and the small army of Queensguard riding in her wake was quiet, giving her plenty of space in which she might think.

Not that there was anything to truly think about. She just had nothing else todo.

Sir Tristan was awake. Olivia was preoccupied with helping the knight get back on his feet. Duchess Edith and Duke Percival were busy planning a silly party for her thirtieth birthday.

She should be content. All was well.

Aside from the vision that still haunted her dreams every night.

And the fact there was still no news from Mysai.

Sir Easome kept reassuring her it would take time for Drakmor’s army to march through the mountains of Valnoth’s Tail—the range separating the woods and hills of Drakmor from the deserts of Arath—and reach Mysai. No doubt it would be some weeks yet before they arrived.

Which meant she had nothing at all to do in the interim. Nothing but try to avoid her betrothed. And Lord Tiberius, who had seemed rather desperate to speak with her ever since her return.

She could only imagine what he wanted now. To smother her in more jewels? To start another fight between them?

In the very next moment, though, Seraphina realized she was about to fail at one of the only two tasks left to her when she heard the rumble of masculine laughter in the near distance. She knew those voices all too well, after having had to endure the sound of them polluting her court for well over a week already.

The Crow’s Twelve Sons.

Seraphina drew her mare up short and called out to Sir Arkwright, “Let us turn back now, sir.” But it was too late.

She had already been spotted.

“Your Majesty!” came the cry of the Crow’s bronze-skinned second-in-command, whom she had come to know was namedMaster Fitzjesmaine after he attacked Lord Tiberius for calling him a Kunishi.

Seraphina did her best to offer a feeble smile as twenty-four eyes fixed upon her all at once. Twenty-five,once she spotted the Crow glowering at her from his place, mingled into the pack of them.

Clearing her throat, she lifted a hand in greeting, though she felt as awkward as she ever did beneath the weight of so much attention. “Good day, gentlemen,” she called back, unsure of what else to say.

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