Page 11 of A Storm in Every Heart
The desert kingdom of Solistine is the closest thing Vernallis has to an ally at the moment, but all the information we’ve been able to gather about them says that their king already has one foot in the grave. He has seven children, but refuses to name any of them as his heir. If the king dies without a clear successor, there’s likely to be a civil war.
Since becoming king and queen, Alix and Daemon have had friendly diplomatic chats with the elderly King of Solistine, and they’ve met twice with a cagey but unthreatening emissary from Thermia. They’ve also received numerous letters from the island kingdom of Hydratta, but anything to do with that kingdom is complicated at best.
“Is Hydratta angry that you haven’t responded to any of their letters?” I ask.
“‘Angry’ isn’t quite the right word,” Alix laments. “More like ‘suspicious,’ I think?”
“The standard thing to do if we don’t want to meet with the Hydrattan king would be to send an emissary to their court,” Daemon says. “But there’s no one to send.”
“Jett?” I suggest half-heartedly.
Daemon shakes his head. “No. The situation in Hydratta is precarious and Jett’s not a diplomat. He’s far too busy right now, anyway.”
I bite my tongue—literally—to keep from commenting.
Over the last year, everyone has easily fallen into their new roles. Daemon and Alix might act as if they’re overwhelmed, but in reality they’re handling governing shockingly well.
Kastian naturally fell into the role of advisor and second-in-command, handling anything Daemon is too busy—or too temperamental—to handle himself.
Fox, who was a career-soldier back in his home country of Thermia, has been turning the hundreds of guards we inherited from King Thorne into a brutal and efficient army.
Jett, who was a thief in his former life, has turned out to be an extremely effective spy. Between his charming personality and surprising affinity for deception, it’s due to him that we’ve gathered so much information on the other three courts of Ellender.
Meanwhile, King Thorne’s illegitimate daughter, Aurelia, is a talented enchantress. She spends nearly every hour of the day locked in her tower working on various spells and potions, but when she does emerge, it’s always with something useful—a healing tonic for the army or a spell for accelerated crop growth.
It’s easy to notice that I’m the only one who hasn’t found a natural role within the court. I’ve been tempted to suggest that I would make a good emissary. I enjoy talking to people, but more importantly I used to be a lady-in-waiting in Thorne’s court and therefore I’m all too familiar with royal politics. My affinity for persuasion could also be useful in a diplomatic role, but since neither Daemon nor Alix has brought up the idea on their own, I have to assume they don’t think it’s a good suggestion.
“Is this meeting why you sent Kastian to find me?” I ask, circling back to the reason I sought them out.
Alix looks sideways, her brows raising. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you ask him to find me in the village?”
She shakes her head. “No…I told you, I was going to send a servant to find you.”
I start to respond, but a sudden, sharp shout pierces the air above us, drawing our attention upward.
A huge dark shape in the sky hurdles toward us, growing larger by the second. I gasp, when he draws close enough that I can make out a familiar dark-haired man, his wings a breathtaking span of deep indigo, cutting through the air like a dart.
Jett lands ungracefully in the center of the courtyard, the force and speed of his landing kicking up a cloud of dust. He skids across the ground, his feet carving shallow grooves in the earth, while his massive wings unfurl dramatically behind him.
My eyes go wide. Except for once when we were in mortal danger, I’ve never seen Jett’s wings. It’s not normal to see any Fae’s wings unless you’re threatened or mated.
“The fuck is going on?” Daemon curses angrily. He drops his stack of papers on the ground and takes off running toward the center of the courtyard.
Loose papers fly around us as Alix and I chase after him, but he’s much quicker, and by the time we catch up Jett is already mid-explanation.
“—came from the harbor. A ship just arrived from Hydratta,” Jett coughs, out of breath.
“So what?” Daemon replies. “Merchant vessels travel to Hydratta all the time.”
“Yeah, but—” Jett breaks off, clears his throat and spits into the dust near his feet.
Daemon claps him hard on the back. “Take a breath, mate.”
Jett wipes sweat from his face before continuing. “This wasn’t just any ship. It was flying the flags of the king.”
Before Daemon can react, Kastian’s voice erupts across the yard like a thunderclap. “Which king?”
