She knew she wanted to do what was right for her people, and her family, but the weight of it all was frightening. What if she failed? With that thought in mind, Eve stalked into her room, careful not to slam the door and draw attention she desperately did not want right now. Once inside, she sank to the floor and let fall the tears she’d been holding back all afternoon.

  She was angry. She was frustrated. She was grieving her father. And above all, she was scared.

  Chapter 3

  Riona

  Nothing was going according to plan. She had been promised three seasoned warriors to protect her daughter until she was seated on the throne that was rightfully hers. Riona paced within the sitting room of her private chambers, pine green skirts swishing angrily in time with every step. She had trusted them, trusted him, to keep that promise.

  “What happened?” She demanded quietly. Eve had retreated to her room so quickly, an attempt, Riona knew, to hide how she felt about her new guardian. Her daughter had every bit of her own fierce independence, she mused with a slight smile. Any bit of humor had disappeared by the time she turned to face the warrior leaning against the arm of her couch.

  Callan opened his mouth to reply, but Riona silenced him with a raised hand. “Please, do not tell me there were delays. You know I need more than that.” With a sigh, she lowered her hand once more, a signal for him to continue.

  He waited a beat, considering his response, before starting again. “I understand. I do. But you know that I can only share so much, even with you.” Anger flooded her, but before she could tell him exactly how she felt about that particular part of her agreement, he forged on. “What I can tell you is they are coming. Leysa will be here within the week, and Valerian will come soon after. They’re coming as soon as they can.”

  Riona snorted. Annoyed and fearful as she was, the knowledge that another of them would be arriving so soon did make her feel a little better. Leysa Ashford’s reputation as a warrior was astounding, to those who had knowledge of the trio, anyway. A number that by now was staggeringly small. So few of them remained. The keepers of secrets.

  Riona could feel him watching her. She needed a moment to think, to consider her options now that things were changing. Her only child was in danger, and the three of them were the only ones who she could trust to keep her safe.

  “How much does she know?” She bristled at the question, the judgment behind it as if he already knew the answer.

  “Nothing,” she replied, turning to face him. She held her chin high as the word hung between them for a moment.

  Callan stared, but Riona showed no shame for the fact of it. She’d left her daughter utterly unprepared, and the knowledge would find its way to her one way or another. She knew that. Knew that it would have been better to be told by someone she loved and trusted than have the knowledge dumped on her in some other way.

  But the choices she made were for a reason, even if it was a self-serving one. Admitting the truth to her only child, how much she knew, and how truly difficult things were about to become for Evelyn…the very idea of it terrified her. She wanted time, just a little more time of normalcy before the truth pushed their relationship to the breaking point.

  The queen simply stared back. A challenge. Daring him to judge her for her choice. This was not a fight he wanted, not right now, and frankly, it wasn’t his decision to make. Her daughter, her choice.

  “Well,” he sighed. “Not what I would’ve done but it’s your decision, Your Majesty.” He wouldn’t challenge her, she could see that now, but he didn’t back down either, meeting her stony gaze with his own. Two sets of blues eyes locked, one icy and one deepest cobalt. A silent agreement made.

  She should’ve told Eve everything, or at least something, a long, long time ago. But the time for truth had come and gone. Telling her now would only further complicate an already complicated matter. Riona tugged her hair over one shoulder and moved to take a seat on the couch. Why did Viktor have to go and do something as foolish? He should still be here. They should have had more time. Not just more time together, but more time to prepare Eve. To tell her the truth.

  “She can’t know,” the queen said finally, her voice little more than a whisper. “I’ll tell her when the time is right, but she can’t know, not yet.” She was tired, so tired. Tired of the lies, the secrets. A small part of her, one she would never acknowledge, was thankful Viktor had died and set things into motion. She would only have to guard these secrets for a little longer before everything changed and none of it mattered.

  “It’s your choice,” was all he said, before heading for the door. “But some free advice? I wouldn’t wait too long. She won’t thank you for it.”

  “I saw the way you looked at her,” Riona said, just as Callan reached for the door handle. “Not today, but that first time.” He would know the day she meant. A birthday party, not so very long ago, held here in this castle. Callan froze but didn’t bother to turn and look back at her. His posture was casual, though his jaw tensed at her words. The queen paid close attention, to every move, every breath. “You know why that can’t ever happen.”

  He nodded once, a brief motion that she might’ve missed if she hadn’t been watching for it. “I know,” he said in a low tone as he left.

  Chapter 4

  Dinner at Stoneweald was nearly always a formal affair. On most evenings, the smaller of the two formal dining rooms would be open to guests, generally a few courtiers or council members and their spouses or guests, and the royal family. The king’s untimely death had done little to change that tradition. Some, eager to thrust their eligible sons into the view of the queen and council, had gone to great lengths to secure a seat at an evening meal with the royals. Even more of them, upon hearing of Eve’s refusal to marry, had done so in an effort to catch a glimpse of the defiant princess in person. Either to put a face to the rumors or to decide their own feelings on the matter.

  Callan’s arrival had added fuel to the flames of the latter. Before drinks had even been served, whispers had started, speculating about the nature of his relationship with the royals. Could he be a potential match for the princess? Merely a lover, waiting to see which way the wind would blow? Or perhaps, some wondered, he was not the princess’s lover, but the queen’s. None could be sure as none of the royals nor their strange guest gave any indication.

  Eve had, by a stroke of luck, managed to avoid conversation with any of the courtiers gathered. Drinks had been served on the adjoining terrace, and blessedly her mother had kept her busy in conversation with two of the councilors. They were dreadful bores, prattling on about the weather and whether or not it would turn to winter soon, but at least they weren’t gossipy and allowed her to stand in silence. Her mind had drifted elsewhere, of course, but they wouldn’t notice. She’d had years of practice offering them bored smiles and appropriately timed sounds of demure agreement. She hardly even needed to think about it anymore.

  A cool wind drifted through the gathered crowd, eliciting gasps and some laughter from the ladies. As was expected of them, all were dressed in gowns that offered little protection against the elements, and though the terrace had braziers to keep its occupants warmed against the worst of the chill, they did little against the wind.

  Eve’s own skin pimpled along her bare arms. Her gown, deep green with a glittering gem overskirt, had only tiny sleeves and a low neckline. She was pretty certain she’d freeze if the servants didn’t ring the damned dinner bell soon. Tradition dictated they enjoy the terrace and drinks until then, an old ritual based on the belief that inviting the forest spirits into their meal would bring prosperity. Another tradition she would like to see changed when she took her throne. But for now, she’d let it rest, she supposed. It wouldn’t do to rock the boat too much.

  “You’re going to freeze in that dress.” The quiet remark caught her completely off guard, his voice hardly a whisper just behind her. His warm breath kissed her skin where her hair had been swept up leaving the column of her neck bare, and suddenly she was shivering for an entirely different reason.

  “Yes, well, we women suffer for fashion, don’t we?” She remarked, turning to him with a grin. Something in her chest sighed at the sight of him, a strange sensation she couldn’t identify settling over her. He had dressed in black, in fine clothes befitting a man of his supposed station. Had all of his clothes been tailored so perfectly? She wondered, noting he must be a man of some means to afford the finery he possessed. A Lord, she reminded herself. Strange for a hired guard.

  “Lord Thorne!” Her mother was saying now, a bright smile on her lovely face as she greeted their guest. “I’m so glad you were able to join us. I had worried the journey might’ve been too tiring.”

  Callan offered the queen a smile in return, inclining his head deferentially. “Your Majesty, how could I decline the opportunity to dine with such lovely ladies?” His gaze remained solely on the queen, and utterly polite. Eve rolled her eyes at the over-the-top compliment, earning a wink from Callan that surprised her.

  “You, my lord, are going to cause all the ladies of Stoneweald quite a lot of trouble,” the queen laughed, though her eyes had taken on a slight edge. “If any catch your eye, do let me know, I’ll be happy to make introductions.”

  Before Callan could reply again, the sound of bells from the dining room signaled the beginning of dinner. Eldred stepped forward then, offering his arm to the queen. As the eldest member of the council, he would serve as her escort for the evening. Falling into step just behind them, Callan offered his arm to Eve. For a heartbeat, she simply stood and stared, contemplating, before placing her hand on his arm. “You’re a flatterer,” she remarked. “My mother will see right through that.”

  “Oh, I do not doubt that my lady,” Callan replied in the same bored tone he’d used earlier. He looked ahead as they walked, not bothering to spare her so much as a glance as they moved into the dining room, not even as he pulled out her chair for her and settled into his own.

  The seat at the head of the table had been left empty since her father’s death, and her mother had taken the seat she had always used, to the left of the king’s, with Eve directly across from her at his right. Callan had been given the place to Eve’s right, with Eldred across from him. The rest of their nearly twenty guests were seated by rank, down either side of the table, starting with council members nearest where the queen and princess sat.

  Soon after the guests were seated, chatter began, and servants bearing trays laden with food entered the room. The first course, small plates bearing olives from the Strand and varying cheeses from the Vale, along with paper-thin slices of apple. Just a taste for their guests, the real point of the course being conversation and preparation for the more elaborate dishes yet to come.

  The queen and those closest to her were the first to be served, of course, and as the servants made their way past him, Lord Eldred Gray leaned forward to speak to Callan. “Lord Thorne,” he said, placing his wrinkled hands on either side of his plate for stability. “How do you find the capital? Is it very different from your home?”

  A seemingly innocent question, but given the sharpness in the old man’s gaze, and the equally sharp wit Eve knew he still possessed, it was far more pointed than it appeared. Eldred offered Callan the same patient smile he had given Eve earlier in the day, playing the part of a polite elderly gentleman well.

  If Callan noted the true meaning of the elder lord’s words, he gave no indication, simply tilting his head to the side as if considering the answer. “It is not so very different, to tell the truth, my lord councilor. A bit more crowded, perhaps.” Still unsmiling, Callan met Eldred’s gaze with his own, steady and unreadable. A heartbeat passed in silence before Callan plucked a large olive from his plate and took a bite, as much an ending to the conversation as anything else.

  “What’s your home like?” Eve asked, raising a brow.

  A muscle in Callan’s jaw feathered. “Quiet,” he replied after a beat. “And as I said, not nearly as crowded as the capital.”

  Unwilling to let him off that easy, Eve pressed on. “And your family? What are they like?”

  A shadow passed over his features briefly. “Complicated.” At Eve’s weighted stare, he continued. “My parents are gone, they died a long time ago. I have a younger sister back at home who is…” His shuttered features shifted into a small smile. “She’s a bit wild, and carefree, but kind.”

  “Is it just the two of you then?” Eve asked with interest. She wondered for a moment what it would be like to have a sibling, especially one she could think of fondly as Callan obviously did.

  Callan’s expression darkened again. “No, I–”

  “Darling,” Riona said, interrupting their refreshingly normal conversation, as she addressed her daughter. “Do you recall Naia Colvari and her sister, Maren? Well, Naia was crowned yesterday, and Maren has been appointed her emissary. We should be seeing more of Maren soon, I expect.”

  A formidable family, the Colvaris had ruled the thriving port cities and desert settlements of Coruscis for generations, as her family had in Darkegrove. The news of Naia and Maren’s change in rank was not at all surprising.

  It had been expected long ago, truthfully, but some trouble amongst them had kept Naia from ascending to her throne when she had been expected to. Nobody knew exactly what sort of trouble, of course. The Colvaris guarded their secrets more fiercely than dragons had guarded their hoards, or so the stories said. But the rumors that had managed to come out of their shining palace by the sea claimed it had to do with a man.

  “How lovely,” Eve said, only half truthfully. She liked Maren well enough. She was kind, and though she was just as outspoken and brash as the rest of her family, she was also much more level-headed and slower to anger than her sister. Eve couldn’t help but wonder if the right sister was sitting on the throne. In any case, they hadn’t had to fight to take it. The heir was simply handed the crown when the previous ruler deemed they were worthy, regardless of sex.

  The conversation carried on around her, Eldred addressing her mother now, discussing some matter related to the coronation, and the courtiers farther down the table setting to work gossiping about both their neighbors and the royal family. Eve pushed food around on her plate, not particularly interested in the overly ripe-smelling cheese that took center stage in this course.

  “Are you not hungry, princess?” Callan asked, leaning closer to her. His gaze was on her now, for the first time since his arrival, appraising her.

  “I’m fine,” she replied, huffing a breath. “They’re all discussing me, you know,” she said, gesturing down the long table with her chin. “Some are probably calling me names, saying I’m going to ruin the kingdom. Most are probably calling what I’m doing a child’s tantrum and assume I’m going to be pushed into marriage after all. Others are probably wondering if you’ll be in my bed tonight.” She turned to him, lifting a brow slightly. There was no humor in her tone or features, simply frustration.

  Callan opened his mouth to reply, but it was her mother’s voice she heard first. “I hardly think that is an appropriate discussion to have right now,” the queen said quietly but firmly.

  And that was that. She wouldn’t argue with her mother, not in public, so she simply shut her mouth. The look Callan gave her suggested he wanted to say something more on the topic, but with a single glance from the queen, he too kept silent.

  Soon after Riona’s effective shutdown of the conversation, the next course was served, a forest vegetable soup, followed by a salad of fresh greens and more of the same vegetables. The course passed in silence for Callan and Eve, neither willing to risk the queen’s wrath and content enough without further small talk.

  The chatter around them continued as the next course arrived, braised lamb and more vegetables, accompanied by a deep red wine nearly the same color as Eve’s hair. Finally, Callan spoke up, drawing Eve from the place her thoughts had drifted. Thoughts of a gorge and her father.

  “How many courses are these meals usually?” He asked, his voice low. His brow was raised as he eyed the long table.

  “A few,” she replied, knowing there would be at least one more after this one, possibly two. “Is it not to your liking, Lord Thorne?” She asked, eyes narrowing slightly, challenge in her tone. She wasn’t offended, not truly, but she certainly didn’t like the reproach she'd heard in the question.

  “It’s just…I haven’t experienced a dinner like this for a long time,” he replied lightly, turning away as a shadow passed over his features, so briefly she thought she may have imagined it.

  What that was supposed to mean, she had no idea, but now didn’t seem like the time to push it. Not when she could feel two pairs of eyes on them from across the table. Though they spoke of mundane things, preparations for the coming winter, she knew both her mother and Eldred were closely watching her exchange with Callan. She certainly didn’t want to think about that too hard, so she turned her attention to the wine, drinking deeply. Unwilling to poke that particular bear, Eve settled into irritated silence.

  Chapter 5

  Despite the meager amount of sunlight the gardens at Stoneweald received, plant life flourished. Most everything that was grown in the areas open to visitors was of little use outside of being pleasing to look at, but the smaller, more intimate garden tucked away near the west wing was a different story.

  Many of the blooms and foliage there were quite lovely, and some were equally as deadly. For as long as anyone could recall, there had been a private garden here, not only for beauty but also used as either medicine or poison. Her father’s ancestors had kept gardens surrounding Stoneweald for as long as anyone could remember, longer than written history recorded and longer than the castle itself had existed.