Page 107 of Kissed By the Gods
Elowen drops her hand to my arm and squeezes. “Leina is my friend,” she says. “I’ll not change how I act around her to suit your hunger for hierarchy.”
Rissa jerks her head back, but it’s not a flinch of pain. It’s controlled rage. They’ve fought like this before. Ice rushes in to cover the fire, freezing every line of her face into something sharp and deadly.
Rissa points at me again—not a wild jab, not an impulsive thrust—but a single, measured gesture. Precise.
On some instinct I don’t understand, I jump out of the way. Even as I jump, embarrassment flares. Why would I be afraid of Rissapointingat me?
But a hairline crack splits the stone wall behind where Iwaswith a sharp, brittle sound. The noise is small, barely noticeable. But I’m an Altor.Oh my gods.
“Ryot’s life is in danger because ofher. He was sent to Solmire Island for his involvement in this whole mess,” Rissa says. Likeshe’sembarrassed, she tucks that finger behind her.
“Ryot’s on Solmire because the archons bowed to political pressure and punished him for defending his ward,” Elowen snaps back. “Don’t rewrite history because it’s easier to blame her.”
My breath catches, and the room tilts. Ryot was here? He’s being punished?
It shreds through me with raw urgency, tearing open panic I hadn’t even known was lying in wait. My mind scrambles, frantic, trying to pull pieces together from the haze of the attack. But maybe what’salreadyhappened doesn’t matter as much as what’s happeningnow.
“Ryot’s been sent where?” I ask, my voice thin and too high, shame burning beneath it. I’ve devoured every book placed in my hands, everything I can muddle through with the Elder, but it’s never enough. I’ve not been here long enough to make up for a lifetime of being so far removed from this world; from a lifetime of only knowing about Village Swyre and our little stretch of forest. Now I’m standing in the center of something vast and violent, and I don’t even know the shape of the map.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and shove myself upright. The floor bucks under my feet, and pain spikes like lightning through my ribs, but I stay standing. Elowen reaches out, her hand on my arm—whether to hold me back or hold me up, I’m not sure.
“To Solmire Island,” Rissa snaps, like the name alone should explain everything. She must see the confusion on my face because she elaborates. “The gods-forsaken patch of dirt halfway to Morendahl. It was abandoned 987 years ago, when the Kher’zenn obliterated the native population on their way to Aesgroth. We don’t settle it. We don’t guard it. We only send scouting parties—groups of a dozen or more—to torch it now and then, to make sure the Kher’zenn haven’t dug in and built another nest.”
“And he was sent alone?” I ask, my horrified voice cracking.
The silence that follows is worse than a yes. Even Elowen is silent, her lips pressed together in a worried line. Elowen levels her eyes at me in apology, but Rissa takes pleasure in my pain. “Yes. Thanks to you.”
Elowen steps closer, her hand settling gently on my arm. Her touch doesn’t ease the pain lancing through me, but it does something to the ache in my chest—the grief that’s squeezing my heart like a clenched fist. It loosens.
“He’s gifted,” Elowen murmurs, voice low and sure. “And winter is almost upon us. He’ll be fine. They wouldn’t have sent him alone if they didn’t believe he could survive it. The real punishment is that they’ve separated him from you.”
Rissa’s head snaps to Elowen and she strides deeper into the room, lowering her voice to a hiss. “You can’t say that, Elowen! For Serephelle’s sake, do you want to put him in even more danger?”
My head is spinning. My body is screaming. I can’t keep up.
“What’s his gift?” I manage.
Elowen glances to Rissa, then back to me. Rissa, too, looks stunned that I don’t know.How do I not know about this?
Elowen draws in a breath and lifts her hands, gesturing wide. “He can create shields,” she says. “Barriers strong enough tohold back the Kher’zenn in open combat. He can shield an entire contingent, though not for long.”
Thisis why Stormriven has such a low mortality rate compared to the others.Ryot.“And… that’s not something all Altor can do?”
“Oh for Serephelle’s sake, you cannot be this ignorant!” Princess Rissa shouts.
My own anger flares to match hers. “I’m only as ignorant as your father created me to be!”
She’s shaking her head. “Don’t blame your inadequacies on others. It’s distasteful.”
“Distasteful?” I echo, my voice jagged—but not with weakness. With rage. “Have you ever even been to Selencia, to see the way your father runs his protectorate? How the people have been abused and beaten and exploited for generations?”
Princess Rissa’s confidence slips, just a fraction. But it’s enough to know that she’s not ever been to the land she’s supposed to inherit.
I shake my head in disgust. I step closer to her. I can’t imagine the look on my face, because she retreats. Princess Rissa, the heir to the Faraengardian throne, retreats.
“Don’t you dare lecture me about things that are distasteful. You don’t have the faintest idea of what that word means. Distasteful is working from sunup until sundown only for all the food you slaved over to get shipped somewhere else, to feed others. Distasteful is watching your father starve himself so you can eat. Distasteful is watching your best friend burn to death on her wedding day because she was too fucking beautiful. Distasteful is watching the soldiers that should protect you kill your mother while she begs for their mercy.”
Princess Rissa’s face pales. “You’re lying,” she says. “My father would never allow this.”
