Page 49 of Heart's Escape

“Prince Orryen and Princess Elanerill,” Arryn says. “The king’s chosen heir and the Princess of the Kingdom of the Summer. Their royal wedding is tomorrow.”

Alindra makes a little sound, like a swallowed cry of surprise. I blink, still waiting for Arryn to spell out the connection between some fucking wedding and rescuing my voids-damned brother.

“It’s the perfect cover,” Arryn continues, lowering her voice like she’s afraid of being overheard. “Aloserin is going to occupy his family. Orryen and Elanerill are going to meet us at his family’s estate after the wedding.”

I frown, trying not to ask any questions that are going to make me look like an idiot.

“Aloserin’s parents are the ones who took Rowan,” Arryn says, turning to Alindra. “They’ve got the portal to the dragon’s den in their basement. So, we’re going to break into their estate while they’re at the wedding. Aloserin told us where to find the dragon’s portal, and we’re going to open it. Lythienne said it wouldn’t be possible for the dragon to ward that entrance, not if he wanted to have any further trade with Aloserin’s family.”

Lythienne also said she’d be able to find Rowan, my brain whispers. And then, when that plan failed spectacularly, she said it would be simple to grab Ithronel’s magician sister Alindra and bring her back to the Lands Below.

Simple. My eyes linger over the curve of Alindra’s bare arm, the delicate dance of her fingers as they tap the table I’d found abandoned in a trash pile, then sanded and waxed myself. I remember the slick heat of the wax between my fingers, but my memories quickly shift to Alindra, to her fingers dragging a cloth across my skin. Damn it all, I still feel her soft touch burning a path down the tangled mess of scars that mar my chest. Charay told me my scars would be sensitive, but I had no idea they would ever feel pleasure. Alindra dripping water down the mangled right side of my body was one of the most intense and erotic experiences of my life.

The teakettle shrieks behind me, jarring me out of wherever my filthy mind was trying to go. I lift the kettle from the hearth and pull three mugs from the cabinet, trying to follow the conversation going on behind me.

“So you don’t need me?” Alindra asks.

Arryn makes a sound that almost resembles a laugh.

“Oh, no,” Arryn replies. “We need you. Lythienne said she should be able to open it, but Phae, you know that face she makes when she’s being a little too optimistic?”

Arryn scrunches her face up into what I have to admit is a pretty good imitation of King Galan’s head magician Lythienne when she’s trying to look convincing.

“I understand,” I say.

It comes out as a growl. Rage climbs my spine and itches at the back of my skull, telling me to move, to get out of here. To find my brother and drive my sword through whatever is hurting him. Whoever is hurting him.

I try to will my racing heart to calm down as I crumble tea leaves into the three mugs. My brother’s lover looks like she hasn’t slept in days, and some of that aching, raw urgency bleeds out of me as I watch her. It must have been terrible for Arryn to lose both of us, then to feel Rowan’s pain and be helpless to stop it.

But she managed to stay here, to plan and strategize. She didn’t panic, didn’t race out of the door with her sword and do something stupid. I clench my jaw, exhale, and raise the kettle to pour water into the three mugs. Steam curls up toward the rafters, filling the room with a scent that always reminds me of those bittersweet days in the forest with Rowan.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Arryn says, looking almost apologetically at Alindra. “We’re going to need all the help we can get. And I know your sister will be glad, too.”

A strange little sound comes out of Alindra’s lips.

“She— she’s still here?” Alindra asks, in a voice that’s almost a whisper. “Ithronel’s okay?”

“She’s fine,” Arryn replies. “She’s helping us.”

Alindra stares at Arryn as though she’s just said her sister Ithronel is off hanging the stars in the sky. Arryn shrugs.

“I don’t know how she hasn’t been bored to death yet,” Arryn says, catching my eye with a grin, “but she’s still here.”

My own laugh surprises me. Arryn and her wicked sense of humor, like a blade buried beneath silk. She reminds me so strongly of Rowan that it makes my chest ache, but at least that’s better than choking on rage.

“Ithronel’s staying in the palace,” I offer, trying to ease some of Alindra’s confusion. “With a man named Aloserin. He’s in the Royal Guard, and he isn’t exactly known for being exciting.”

Alindra frowns and Arryn smiles as I bring the mugs to the table, and only then does it strike me how utterly odd it is to have two ladies from the Worlds Above sitting in my cabin, at my table. Drinking my tea. My brother’s lover, the woman he gave his heart to, and the woman I—

The woman I’ve doomed by dragging her into the Lands Below. I clear my throat.

“So,” I say. “What’s the plan?”

Arryn wraps her hands around the mug as steam drifts up to frame her face.

“You have to stay here until tomorrow,” Arryn says. “As far as anyone knows, Rowan and I had a huge fight. Rowan’s run off into the void to lick his wounds, and you’ve gone after him.”

I frown. I’m not sure what’s worse, that story or the fact that it’s fairly plausible.

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