Chapter 54

I venture to the kitchen to say hello to Henry and the line cooks. It's the central hub of the palace. The maidservants are always coming in and out on requests from the nobles with gossip and rumors: affairs, alcohol intake, disputes. Any and all information regarding court transgressions is filtered through the kitchen staff.

There is always speculation about the palace and the king and his crown. There's concern regarding the stirrings at the border, fear of another war coming. The uncertainty of the Strou alliance after Acker's stunt at the celebratory dinner has made its way to the townsfolk, who have differing opinions on the matter. Some think reuniting the old alliance with the Maile is the right choice, others quite the opposite after my mother's refusal to open her borders over the last decade.

The overarching theme is their love of the prince. They're under the impression Acker will protect them at all costs. Tales of his battles are repeated and spoken of with reverence, almost in a worshipful fashion.

Also, Henry is always eager to try out his new or favorite recipes on me, and I am plenty happy to oblige.

I'm eating a cranberry muffin when Beau finds me. "You're beginning to be impossible to track down," she says .

"Me?" I say, pushing the remaining muffins toward her. "I haven't seen you in days."

"Not all of us live a life of leisure, Jo."

I inspect the dark circles under her eyes, the dullness in her hair. "Your father's been keeping you busy?"

"You could say that." She takes two of the muffins and thanks Henry. "Come. My mom has something she wants to show you."

I'm scrambling to keep up with her as she moves out of the kitchen. The temperature in the hall drops, making me shiver after being in the overheated kitchen all afternoon.

Beau's dressed in her uniform, leather armor and metal rope included. The weapon clinks off her shoulder and hip as she stalks through the halls.

Greta's eyes light up when we walk through the library's doors. "I was starting to think you got lost."

She waves us to follow her into the alcove underneath the stairs. A desk is shoved into the corner with a lantern hanging above for light. Standing on her tiptoes, Greta slides a massive text from the top shelf, and Beau and I stretch out our arms to help lower the weighty book onto the table.

"I've been looking for these records ever since your return, and I finally found them." She huffs out a breath, blowing her bangs from her face, and settles into the chair.

Four times the size of normal texts, each page creates a draft of wind as she turns it. Dust floats in the air, and Beau coughs, waving it away from her face.

"Here," Greta declares, wiping the page clean before pointing. "Your mother."

I angle the lantern overhead to get a better view. The illustrated depiction of Evelyn is uncanny. In her youth, we were damn near identical. If it didn't have her name in script below the picture and her hair was lighter, I'd swear it was me.

There's additional text under her name, and I wipe the space clean to read it.

Elemental - Air

"What is this?" I ask.

"These are the earliest recordings of Heirs and their gifts."

My eyes flick to Greta's. "Is my father in here?"

I see the dismay in her eyes before she answers. "No, my darling. He wasn't an Heir."

Shock rocks me back on my feet. "What?"

"I thought you knew," she says.

"How would I have known?"

"Acker never told you?" Beau asks.

I shake my head. "I suppose it's of no consequence, but I never even thought to ask."

"Their love story is quite romantic," Greta says. "The princess who fell in love with her appointed guard. It was the height of scandal for a princess to marry a commoner. Never did one ascend the throne before or since his crowning."

"Well," Beau drawls, "that's debatable."

"All thrones are held by usurpers," Greta agrees. "But he was the first and only to do it by love."

Beau rolls her eyes.

"Anyway," Greta says, "I wanted to show you a little of your mother's history."

"Thank you, Greta. Would you mind if I nosed around in the logs for a while?"

"Not at all." She stands so I can reclaim her seat. "If you find anything interesting, please share."

Beau pulls a spare chair close. It appears to be categorized by lineage. I flip to the front of the book and wipe it clean with my palm. King Edmond is first. He looks a lot like Acker, but I'm grateful for the subtle differences in their features.

Elemental - Fire

I move to close the book but the image next to the king's catches my eye. Leaning closer, I clean it with my thumb, making sure I'm not imagining things as I gaze at the slightly downturned eyes and widow's peak. Acker's mother has a smile full of mischief. Actually it's kind of condescending, even through the depiction. It kind of reminds me of…

No.

It's not possible.

"What is it?" Beau says, eyes fluttering around my shoulders.

"I…I'm not sure. Do you know where there's a better image of the late queen?"

She stands and leads me to Greta's desk. She's nowhere to be found as we open the floor and descend into the abyss. Igniting the lamp, Beau lifts it from its place on the wall, carrying it down the stacks of books to the furthest wall. There, partially hidden by a tapestry, is a portrait of the royal family, the king on his throne with his son at his side. Acker must have been no more than five. Behind him stands a woman with curly hair and a vibrant smile, her hand resting on her husband's shoulder.

A young Grenadine stares back at me. The crabby old woman lived next to me in Alaha. I'm sure of it.

"Jo," Beau demands. "Tell me what it is you see. "

I need to tell Acker.

I reach through the bond and find myself in Acker's room.

The king's voice sends ice through my veins. "Keep Jovinnia as a consort or send her to Maile."

Turning in place, I find them in the sitting room, Acker's back to me as he stares up at his father's pacing figure.

"In what world are either of those options? She's my match ," he says, voice rising an octave. "Never in history has a king been denied his match."

"But you're not king," his father says, voice cold. "You're nothing but a prince under my reign, and when I give an order, I expect obedience."

"Even if you're wrong?" Acker says.

I can't see his face, but I imagine the harsh glare he has leveled on his father, similar to the one the king stares back with as he lords over his son. It's a battle of power, of wills.

"Give me an argument to justify her hand instead of the Strous' daughter," the king says. "Give me anything other than the simple fact that you want her."

"I love her," Acker says. "Is it not enough?"

"No." His father shakes his head. "Not when you are responsible for the wellbeing of your people. We need the Strou alliance more than you need her hand in marriage."

Acker stands, and I hurry to hide behind the wall. "We can negotiate a new alliance with Evelyn."

"She'll never agree to it, son. She despises the entire conclave."

"You don't know for sure," Acker argues. "Jovie is proof Wren took her as a child. She can sway Evelyn to our side. The queen will want revenge."

" Jovie. " The king enunciates the term of endearment like it's a joke. "The girl who trained in the Alaha guard, who was in love with Wren's son, according to you. And you expect her to lend her mother's army and resources to eradicate them?"

"She doesn't sympathize with their rebellion," Acker says.

The king throws his hands up. "You're acting like a spoiled child."

I jolt from the sound of something slamming into stone, a scattering of objects hitting the floor. "You told me you would find a solution," Acker says, emotion making his voice tremble with thin restraint. "I put up the front. I played nice to settle the Strous' nerves while you worked out a new plan. For what? For you to tell me there is no other way? Fuck that. "

"The Alaha are gearing up for war, and the incident at the Market was only the beginning. Now, we have Roison joining the fight since your match's little stunt at the border. If we have any chance against Wren, against Roison's forces, we need more bodies on the playing field, and Strou has them."

"Maile's army is bigger," Acker argues. "If we can convince Evelyn—"

"Enough!" The king's command does, indeed, rattle the wall at my back. "I spoke with Joss and Urich. They are fine with you keeping Jovie as a consort as long as you take Irina's hand in marriage. They ask for at least one successor. It's a generous offer, knowing you'll most likely want to bear children with your match."

"And if I refuse?" Acker threatens.

There's a long beat of silence where I begin to wonder if I've been discovered. Then the king says, "When did you do this?"

I don't have a visual to explain the punctuated silence. My heart is in my throat, and I strain to hear the tiniest of movements in case they decide to come into the bedroom.

The king's voice is eerily calm. Too calm. "If I ever find out you've given another blood bond, I'll chain you in the dungeons, do you understand?"

I dare a peek around the wall to get a visual of what is happening and see the king's hand braced on the back of his son's neck.

"As for your original threat, if you defy me again, I have a multitude of ways to ensure you'll never lay eyes on your match again."

The sound of the door unlocking reverberates in the stillness in the air.

"If I were you," the king says, "I'd find a way to convince Jovinnia to agree to the arrangement. Speaking from experience, it never ends well when you try to hide the truth from another. And as for our future conversations, you'll be collared."

I flinch when the door slams shut—then I'm in the hidden library with Beau's eyes on me. My vision blurs as I do my best to keep my panicked heart from beating out of my chest. I concentrate on breathing, deep, long pulls of air as I brace my hands on the ledge of a bookshelf.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Just because he ran out of fight against his father doesn't mean he agrees. I need to give him the chance to fix it, to confide in me what his father has obviously been pushing on him. He doesn't want this.

I look up at Beau. Her eyes are full of remorse, as if she saw the same conversation I was privy to. Then I realize it's my aura. She knows whatever I saw is wreaking havoc on my heart and nothing she can say will stop it from fracturing.