My hand flies over my mouth as the blur splits in two and both Rally and Ty charge the wyvern lord, his attendants whirling around with wings flared wide to face the twins. They’re going to all come to blows right here in the palace courtyard on my first day in Tirenth. Over something said about me.
Mother would be appalled.
“Boys,” the king says in a perfectly placid tone.
Rally and Ty freeze.
“We are civilized here.”
The courtyard seems to pause, waiting for what will come. Lord Tallin’s attendants flash their bared teeth, goading the twins, and the air, stifling hot, is thickened further by the broiling tension. I resist the urge to wipe the sweat from my brow.
With obvious reluctance, Rally and Ty step back in perfect synchronicity to stand by their king. Lord Tallin grins.
“A wise choice. There’s no need for violence, is there? We seek peace.”
“Is that so?” the king asks. “Historically, your terms seem to suggest otherwise.”
“We believe our terms reasonable.”
“Belief does not equal reality.”
Lord Tallin’s lips stretch till all his teeth are exposed. “No, it does not.” His eyes flicking once more over me, he turns and makes to crouch down again as if preparing for flight.
“Lord Tallin,” the king says, the call soft as a whisper,
The wyvern looks back and cocks an eyebrow. “Yes?”
The king doesn’t charge forward or raise his voice, yet when he speaks, the quiet threat in his tone is enough to chill me to my bones.
“Insult my bride again,” he says, “and I’ll rip your mouth out.”
Lord Tallin sneers, yet he doesn’t respond.
Facing the sky, the trio extends their wings, and with a mighty flapping and a great deal of whirling dust, they take flight. I watch in muted—and begrudging—awe as they sail away.
The king watches as well, but his is a calculating gaze, like he’s measuring the distance between them and us. At some predetermined height, he jerks toward Rally.
“I want her inside, in her chambers. Now.”
I startle at his harsh manner. Where he was all control a moment ago, now he seems seconds away from falling into a rage. In truth, I would like nothing more than to be alone in my room and sort through this wild day, but I suddenly balk at the idea of being hustled off there like a disobedient child.
What would Mother say? Probably to keep quiet until I better knew this king, his strengths, his weaknesses. My sister Celeste would likely start crying. My oldest sister would have half the palace under her command by now.
In the end, I, Serah, the quiet one, say nothing as the king drops my hand and addresses his attendants.
“I want both of you on her.”
Rally steps after him as the king goes to leave. “Soren—”
“I said both,” the king snaps before stalking away.
Ty flings his arms out in exasperation at the retreating back of his king.
“Leave it, Ty,” his brother grunts. I stiffen as he rotates my way, but it’s only to bow. “Shall be off, princess?”
Tired and disappointed in myself, I simply nod and follow them. At least I’ll have a small look at the palace I’m to live in before evening sets in.
Instead of heading toward the main entrance, the brothers veer to the right, taking me down a covered walkway. To my surprise, the walkway’s edges are lined in beds bursting with flowers, and I feel a small but steady trickle inching along beneath my feet.
“Great efforts have been made to bring water here,” I say quietly.
I hadn’t said the words to anyone in particular, but in response, Ty sends his brother a barrage of hand signs, making the latter scowl.
“That’s hardly on the way.”
I watch them exchange a great number of signs before Rally sighs.
“Ty wants to know if you’d like to see the eastern gardens. Briefly,” he adds, with a cutting glance at his twin.
“Oh, yes, please,” I say, my heart clinging to this small bit of normalcy. Ty grins at me, but the grin disappears as a voice emerges from the corner at my back.
“The eastern gardens first? She’ll hardly want to see the others after that.”
I turn slowly, my mother’s teachings in my ear—Head up. Shoulders back. Never show a man fear. I couldn’t seem to remember these words earlier in the carriage, but I grasp onto them now as the man lurking in the shadows pushes off the wall he was leaning on, and in one fluid motion, sweeps a hand down to pluck a flower.
“Everyone knows you must save the best for last,” he says. Bowing, he presents the flower to me.
It’s a yellow desert rose.