Page 78 of Of Song and Scepter
I tuck the necklace back into my pouch, turning away from the roaring Intercurrent. With a flick of my tail, I angle toward Aquisa, pumping as fast as I can.
Dark magic descends, angry ice in my veins. It pulls on my limbs as it tries to yank me into submission. I push through, forcing my numbing body to move through the sheer force of my will. Harder. Harder. The magic squeezes until I gasp, vision narrowing into a dark blur.
I must make it back to the shore, before it’s too late. I must find Soren, tell him the truth. He deserves to know everything.
Stirring the magic in my belly, I hum a spell to fortify my limbs. Electricity pulses through me, fighting for control of my muscles. My tail thrashes, gaining speed.
Soren may hate me for my role in this, and he may never forgive me. But it doesn’t matter.
Because the truth will cost me my life.
Chapter forty-six
Soren
Princess Aris sits aloneat the breakfast table when my mother and I arrive. Delicate arrangements of food spread along the table, overflowing with fruits and fish and tea cakes. Morning sunlight streams through the open windows, casting the room in a warm glow. Aris turns at my entrance, teacup in hand, her lips still pursed mid-sip.
“Happy wedding week, Your Highness,” the queen says, her voice light and sweet. “What a splendid ball last evening. I look forward to another one tonight.”
Aris rushes to her feet, dropping into a curtsy. Her head dips heavily, her hair elaborately coiled, save for one strand that’s escaped the nest.
No sign of the shadow-guard. I suck in a jagged breath. Did she take the necklace and run?
I ball my hands into fists. Hugo’s fingers brush my shoulder in warning. I force the tension from my hands, unfurling each knuckle one by one.
I will not believe it. Enna is simply late.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. We are absolutely delighted by last night’s success, aren’t we, darling?” Aris’s voice rings with an air of falsehood, too sweet. The pageantry plays on.
“Of course.” I clear my throat to dispel the knot forming there. “Looking forward to continuing the merriment this evening.”
If I cannot find that necklace, I’ll be stuck dancing with Aris at a pre-wedding ball every night this week until the full moon. Four days from now.
I slide into my seat beside my mother, avoiding Aris’s gaze under the guise of selecting my breakfast. I pile food onto my plate until I run out of space, then pop a lushfruit into my mouth, chewing slowly as an excuse not to talk.
My mother eyes me sideways. With excruciating attention, she straightens the dainty necklace at her collarbone, then eyes me again.
Across the table, Aris plucks obliviously at a piece of cake, stabbing the cinnamon sponge with her fork. Her hand curls around the handle oddly, her knuckles overlapping, and I squint. Odd that a princess wouldn’t know how to hold a fork. She lifts the cake to her mouth with a smile, slipping the tines between her lips.
The doors open with a clatter, and I look up to see Enna push through. My heart climbs into my throat at the sight of her—hair dripping wet and wild, those eyes sharp and focused, dressed in nothing but her loin cloth and a knot of reedgrass around her breasts.
She is here.
“Apologies, Your Highnesses,” she mutters. “I seem to have overslept this morning.”
Water drips from her hair onto the marble floor, splattering in a soft symphony. She moves slowly, testing the weight of each step as she approaches the back of Aris’s chair.
Aris stiffens. Her jaw clenches, then grinds as if she needs to chew her words before letting them out.
“Ah, there you are,” she says.
“Yes, here I am,” Enna chirps, too happy for a casual tone. She’s only made it halfway to the table. Her hands twitch at her sides, hanging limply. Her brow furrows. Her gaze meets mine, liquid lava. Something is wrong.
Aris turns. “Come now,” she says with a hint of annoyance.
Finally, Enna stops behind Aris, grimacing. With careful fingers, she tucks a stray pin into Aris’s hair.
My body lifts, and the legs of my chair scrape loudly on the floor as I stand to my full height. Porcelain clatters as my mother nearly drops her teacup. I ignore her, gesturing to the remaining open seat at the table—the one next to me.
