Annika’s teasing always got the better of me, and I couldn’t fight the smile as I followed her into the room. There were multiple tables with maps and books laid out; the main one that she appeared to be using was flooded with papers and multiple inkwells. She really had been busy.
“I have a question, now that you’re here,” she began, seeming hesitant.
“You can ask me anything you like. Always.”
Taking a deep breath, she looked back down at her map. “You said before that people find you. And when they find you, you take them in. Is that right?”
I nodded. “It’s an unbreakable agreement. Once you’re in, you can’t leave. Otherwise, the very people we’re trying to fight might discover us.” I rolled my eyes, and she smiled. “It doesn’t surprise me that people don’t know we’re there, or that more don’t discover us; the people we take in are the ones no one notices or misses. I’m not sure how many in our army are truly Dahrainian at this point.”
She shook her head. “I can’t decide if that’s sad or beautiful.”
“Neither can I. But we bring them in, we tell them our history until it’s their own. I wouldn’t know where to draw a line between someone inside the bloodline and someone outside. In the end, we share a sense of unity, a sense of pride. Maybe that’s . . .”
I had to swallow, pushing down the sting of Dear Nickolas’s words.
“Maybe what?” Annika asked quietly, looking up with those doe eyes that crippled every defense I possessed.
I smiled weakly. “I haven’t used my surname in ages. You’re the only one who knows it. It was painful, after all this time, to have him mock it,” I admitted.
She turned away, moving back to her papers. “Don’t listen to him. I absolutely adore the sound of it. Had I the liberty, I’d make it my own.”
My eyes snapped up, staring at her. Make it her own? Did she . . . would she . . . ?
Something in my gut twisted, and I was seconds away from dropping to my knees and pleading with her to not even consider marrying that pathetic excuse for a man, no matter what came next.
“But back to my question,” she started, having a much harder time looking at me now.
“Ask away.”
“That first night in the dungeon, Blythe told me that the castle you live in, you didn’t build it. It had been abandoned, and Kawan settled your army there.”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“You and all the people who need somewhere to go?”
“Yes.”
She swallowed. “I know it’s different because it was empty . . . but if the descendants of whoever built that castle came back and wanted it . . . would you be able to leave?”
My blood went cold. My first instinct was no. Absolutely not. Vosino was a complete disaster, but it was our disaster. And it wasn’t much, but every last improvement made had been done at our hands. I couldn’t admit aloud how reluctant I was to even consider it.
Luckily, I wasn’t forced to. “Your Highness.” A man with several golden bars embroidered into his uniform walked in. “I was told to see you urgently.”
“Yes, thank you for coming. We need to ready the troops, General Golding. I know we were already bracing for an invasion, but I’ve heard on good authority that the Dahrainian Army is preparing to advance much sooner than expected.”
I moved back, having already told Annika everything I knew. Once the stream of preparation began, it went on heavily for hours with no breaks. Between it all, she listened patiently to asinine requests, offered solutions to whatever problems she could solve quickly, and took petitions on behalf of multiple committees. An army was coming, and still she counted every last request as vital.
I had to admit it was all very . . . dull. I’d lived a life of training, of planning. I was always waiting for something to happen, ready for even the slightest shift beneath my feet. This looked like paperwork.
And I had to ask myself, was this all having a kingdom was?
When the sun was sinking low in the sky, Annika stretched her arms up high, bending a little as she did so. I could see the stress of it all was wearing on her.
As if on cue, Palmer walked in.
“Have I missed anything?” he asked me, keeping his voice hushed.
I discovered I own the ground you’re standing on.
“No.” I paused. “Well, one thing.”
“What?”
“Did you know that Annika’s maid, Noemi, was in a relationship with the prince?”
He gaped at me. “That’s not . . . how did . . . ?”
“I was with Annika when she went to visit her brother today and he spoke about it openly. He’s trying to marry before his father wakes up and forbids it. But I wonder if it’s the prince’s urgency or hers.”
Palmer sighed, crestfallen. “Well, there’s no risk of that.”
I got chills, knowing that could only mean one thing, but needing Palmer to say it all the same.
Palmer looked to Annika and back to me, leaning over to whisper in my ear. “The king died. Only an hour or two ago. There’s a very lengthy process to testing and making sure that a sovereign is officially deceased, not to mention the papers. If she’d been by his side, it would have been one thing, but if you aren’t in the room, you have to wait.”
“Is that where you’ve been?”
He nodded.
I swallowed. “She’s been preparing for the battle. She’s been bracing while he was dying.”
Palmer looked down. “Maybe it was good for her to have the time. But I have to tell her now . . . and I dread it.”
I turned, taking in his profile, the tense set of his jaw and the worried bent of his eyebrows. It took me ages to let Inigo in. Now, it seemed, I was ready to befriend people in hours. “Then let me. I don’t mind.”
I clapped Palmer on the shoulder as I passed, walking over to kneel beside Annika, noting the little knot in her forehead as she read.
“Annika?” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Annika, my love.” At that she met my eyes. “I’m so sorry, but I have some difficult news.”
She stared at me for a moment and then swallowed hard. She steeled herself, taking in a deep breath as if she already knew.
“I’m ready,” she said.
I looked into her clear, trusting eyes. And I broke her heart. “I’m sorry, Annika. Your father has passed.”
Her lip trembled a little, and her jaw clenched a few times.
“Does my broth—” She cut herself off, inhaling sharply, attempting to regain composure. “Does His Majesty know?”
I looked over to Palmer, who could hear us; he shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
She sniffled a few times and smoothed out her dress. “Then I must go tell him.”
After another steadying breath, she rose and clasped her hands in front of her. She took a few steps and stopped, turning to whisper to me.
“Don’t leave me. Not yet,” she pleaded.
“I won’t.”
I wanted to say, “I won’t ever.” But she’d told me not to make such promises, and I wasn’t about to disobey her now.
She carried on, nodding to Palmer as she passed him, looking perfectly calm. He and I fell into step behind her, braced for whatever might come.
A second later, another officer came sprinting down the hallway, slowing when he saw Annika and Palmer.
“Mamun?” Palmer asked. “What is it?”
He was breathing fast, looking back and forth between the three of us, struggling to get words out.
“Officer Mamun?” Annika tried gently. Even now she had unimaginable patience for those around her.
“Whatever it is, just say it,” Palmer instructed. “There can be no secrets between this circle.”
He looked at Annika, bowing deeply. “The king has died,” he said.
“Yes, I’ve been told. I was just going to—”
“And the prince is missing,” he finished.
