Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords Book 3) (20 page)

“Where were you today?” Jovan asks. He’s already eaten and sits sprawled on his throne, watching his assembly. Sometimes he puts on this pose to fluster his subjects. But I think he genuinely finds this position comfortable too. I wonder what he thinks about as he looks at his people. Does he love them? Does he only see his past?

“Doing this and that. How was the council?” I ask. He makes an exasperated sound in his throat.

“It would be different if something were being decided,” he replies. I nod, fully understanding his predicament.

“It’s not really a problem we have on Osolis. The Tatum is more of a dictatorial position. Mother tells her Satums what to do upon hearing their evaluations. The only time nothing is decided is when she meets with the peace delegation to discuss the treaty—her way of delaying progress, I imagine. I like your way, though it’s more long-winded. It makes sense to gather different views and then decide on the best one as a group.”

“I’m certain both have their advantages.” Roscoe joins in from Jovan’s other side. I dip my head his way and enter into conversation with the polite older man.

Jovan sits quietly between us, a mountain beside me. I catch him staring at me more than once. He observes me over a hand, which absently plays with the light stubble on his face.

“We have a meeting with the Ire tonight.” He interrupts Roscoe mid-sentence. Roscoe flashes me a wry smile, obviously quite used to this.

“Excuse me, Roscoe,” I say and turn to Jovan. “It’s been a week already? I’d lost track of time.”

“Yes. I assume the messenger will use the cover of darkness,” he says. I agree with a slow nod.

“It would make sense. The person won’t be harmed?” I ask.

“I’ve given the warning I’m expecting company. The order has gone out that no arrows are to be shot.”

* * *

I stand on the rooftop with the king, waiting for the person from the Ire. My rushed conversation with Adox to organize this meeting hadn’t included details on who would be delivering the report. I hope it’s not one of Adox’s two burly men. I don’t particularly like them. I’m sure the feeling is mutual. I lean against the barred railing surrounding the Hawk’s entrance. The giant messenger hawks are used to carry communication between our two worlds. They can fly straight into the food hall in the King’s castle through the trap door openings in the castle roof, though I’ve only been lucky enough to see them do this once. The railing I lean on protects patrolling watchmen from a nasty fall to the bottom of the food hall.

“What are you thinking about?” Jovan asks. I smile at him since he can actually see it. I’ve removed my veil for the meeting as Willow, my Ire persona, doesn’t wear one.

“The Ire,” I say.

“What’s it like there?” He sits down against the parapet and looks at me expectantly. He rolled his eyes when I told him I was going up to wait, but he’d joined me nevertheless, grumbling something about how the king isn’t supposed to wait for anyone.

“It’s … incredible. Have you even been on the Oscala?” I ask. He gives a minute shake of the head, not taking his blue eyes off me. It reminds me of our conversation the other day.

“Just to the base of it, for drills,” he clarifies. I launch into a description of the Ire, trying to remember the very best parts. I end up telling him about most of my stay there. Most of it.

While I talk, he sits silently with the rapt attention of a child. It’s unnerving, and … flattering. I sit next to him and prod him in the leg.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask, crossing my legs.

He tilts his head to me. “That I like the sound of your voice. I always liked stories.” He shrugs one shoulder, as he tends to do when uncomfortable. “Also, that I haven’t seen very much of my world.”

“You’ve been busy. And it’s easy to rectify. You probably need to visit the Outer Rings with Blizzard soon. And not when you’re chasing me,” I add, ignoring his raised brow. “Go during the day when nothing is hidden. When the people aren’t hiding away, trying to survive the night. Go when there’s daylight so you can see the people stabbed to death in the alleyways, and the devastation.”

He rests his hands on bent knees, deep in thought, or, I realize a moment later, trying to conceal his reaction to my brutal words.

“Do you know I’ve only seen half of Osolis?” I ask. “Mother wouldn’t let me out of the royal rotations, so I’ve only seen the first three rotations. When I go back, I’d like to travel around all of them extensively. I need to get an idea of how badly she’s been treating the villagers. Perhaps I’ll do a tour, as you do.”

His answer seems stilted when he eventually makes it. “That makes me feel better about not seeing my world,” he says roughly. “The difference being, I could have easily visited the Outer Rings if I wished. I only visit the Inner and Middle Rings during my tour. But I have a visit planned with Blizzard tomorrow.” He waves his hand and stops with it in mid-air as he squints ahead of us.

“Someone’s coming.” He stands and falls naturally into his commanding posture.

“Remember, I’m your inferior,” I say.

“My minion?” he asks.

I debate standing on his foot. The messenger lands on whisper-soft feet. He still has the best landing I’ve ever seen.

“I nearly missed the place.” Hamish unstraps himself and places the Soar on the ground, poking fun at the obnoxious size of the castle. I laugh and get swept into a twirling hug.

“Good flight?” I look slightly up into his green eyes, under the mop of curly black hair. The mischievous twinkle I got to know while he taught me to fly is still there. I can’t see anything but friendship in his eyes. I’m glad he seems to have gotten past his feelings for me.

“Barely a bump,” he says with gusto. He kisses me loudly on the cheek. “Willow, you’re a sight for sore eyes!”

I untangle myself, aware of who stands behind me. Two spots burn in my back.

“Hamish, this is King Jovan of Glacium,” I say respectfully, stepping to the side. “My King, this is Hamish of the Ire.” I expect Jovan to smirk at the “my king,” but he gives me a loaded look that sends a shiver down my spine.

“King Jovan. It is a pleasure to meet you,” Hamish says, eyes flicking between us. “Our leader, Adox, has tasked me with telling you what’s happening on the Great Stairway.”

The king clasps his hands behind his back and straightens his shoulders. ”Go ahead,” he orders. I conceal my wince as I see Hamish frown, but he recovers and mimics Jovan’s posture.

“The Solati army initially made some ground, but now remains at a complete standstill. They sit about two-thirds of the way here, out of materials, according to our scout’s. From what we can gather, messengers run back and forth, carrying orders from the Tatum. Their force numbers two hundred at last count.” Hamish glances at me. “The man who spotted us must have ordered them on high alert. A couple of our people have been shot at. We haven’t dared to get close enough to learn more.”

My mouth tightens as I think of Cassius, Mother’s brother and right-hand man. The man who allowed his wife to be exiled to the Fifth Rotation for nearly twenty years. The Fifth was the hardest rotation to live in, full of smoking, charred remains and ash. There was a special well of hate I reserved just for my dear uncle.

Jovan’s eyes rest on me, and I give him a confused look in return. He steps beside me, standing close. Much too close. Hamish’s eyes narrow at the movement and I see Jovan lengthen to his full height. I begin to understand what’s happening and feel the irritating tickle of anger myself.

“Adox has recommended maintaining weekly contact until they begin to turn around,” Hamish continues with a bite. “He said to tell you his instincts are that they won’t back down easily. He warns you to remain alert.”

“There can’t be any harm in doing that,” I agree, voice false-calm. “How are Adox and the others?” I ask. Hamish beams, stepping closer.

“Can you believe Jimmy’s been behaving himself?” he asks. I purposely step away from Jovan, screwing up my face in mock thought.

“No, I really can’t,” I decide, grinning.

“It’s possibly because Adox confiscated his Soar,” he adds. I burst out laughing at the thought of the child being island-bound. Took long enough.

“Poor Jimmy! He must be going insane.”

Hamish doesn’t disagree. “The nursery women said to say hello,” he says.

I look at him surprised. “Really?”

He reaches out and taps me on the nose. “They do like you, you know. Well, after you saved Cara from falling. Before that, they thought you were going to kill their children.”

“You save people from falling a lot,” Jovan mutters from my other side. He’s speaking of Sole.

“Yes, my king,” I say and add a bow so I can glare at him without Hamish seeing. Dark humor crosses Jovan’s features.

At least Jovan gets the hint. He resumes discussion with Hamish, rattling off a list of questions. Hamish answers them as best as he can. Mother’s army is doing their best to build their own supports. Apparently, the army trains several times a day, though they’re stranded on the Oscala. It is an unusual feeling to be proud of an army, but detest them at the same time.

“Adox also wishes to know if you’ve revealed the Ire to your assembly yet,” Hamish asks. My shoulders are just starting to relax. Maybe Hamish and Jovan can get along.

“No. But soon. You may tell Adox that he’ll be informed once I’ve done so,” Jovan orders. “And that I have a large force of men ready in case the Solati army regains their march. You can deliver my guarantee to your leader that the Ire has our protection. That will be all.” Jovan dismisses him with flick of the hand.

I step forward and Hamish ducks his head toward me at my approach.

“You’ll need to come back for a Sunday once everything settles down.” Hamish smiles over my head. He sidles up to me and whispers loudly in my ear. “I want another dance with you.”

I close my eyes for the briefest of moments, knowing the damage his comment will do. A heavy arm rests across my shoulders and I groan inwardly. I open my eyes, tensing as Hamish jerks his head back at the intrusion.

“Willow is kept busy here, carrying out the duties I assign her,” Jovan says in a cold voice. Hamish raises an eyebrow and gives me a questioning glance. I shrug awkwardly under Jovan’s arm.

“She may accompany me when I eventually come to the Ire to meet your leader, but this not guaranteed.” He invades Hamish’s personal space once more. I see my Ire friend swallow hard, though he keeps his ground.

“You see,” he continues, expression blank, “Willow is very important to the running of Glacium.” He doesn’t break the stare.

I’ve had enough. I pinch the king. Hard. I don’t dare move away from his side. I’m still supposed to be his inferior. I doubt he’d let me anyway.

I smooth my expression as Hamish’s face turns a furious shade of red.

I take a deep breath and try to smooth the incident over. “Maybe when things settle down,” I say with an apologetic smile.

Jovan turns his mouth against my ear. “Unlikely,” he growls loudly enough for Hamish to hear.

I’m going to kill him! I jerk my head away, addressing Hamish. “Do you need to stay here for the night? Are you hungry?”

Hamish looks between the king and I for a long moment and clears his throat, disappointment evident. “No ... No, I should be fine,” he says, giving me a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I mean, Breena gave me food for the journey,” he recovers, pointing behind him.

“Oh,” I say as he picks up the Soar and reverses the process of half an hour before. I escape from Jovan’s hold and approach.

“Well, goodbye,” I say awkwardly.

Hamish darts a glance at Jovan. “Are you okay, Willow?” he asks in a low voice.

“Of course.” I smile.
I’m
okay, but Jovan isn’t going to be once Hamish is out of sight. “I’m glad everyone at the Ire is safe. Please send the king’s regards to Adox, and tell him I said hello.”

He nods, not entirely convinced by my show. “See you in a week,” he calls, plunging from the castle roof.

I step back next to the towering presence of the king as Hamish disappears into the darkness; my anger rising.

“What was that?” I demand, crossing my arms and glaring up at Jovan.

He crossed his own bulging arms, visible through his tunic. “Just making sure he knew he didn’t have a chance.”

I sputter, speechless and furious at the same time. “He’s my
friend
,” I say and Jovan scoffs.

“He doesn’t want to be your friend, Olina. That boy wants to bed you.”

I gasp at his crass words. “Stop calling him a boy,” I say loudly, rubbing my forehead. “I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation. You realize you need to forge relationships right now? He’ll be reporting what happened to Adox.”

He scoffs again, the sound grating on my ears. “I’m sure an old man knows a jealous pup when he sees him.”

“He’s not the only one.” I give him his own insult back.

“You’ve danced with him!” he says, placing his hands on either side of my head against the wall. I scowl into his face.

“So what?” I demand. He doesn’t answer. His jaw ticks instead, which is worse. He strokes a finger lightly down the side of my face. The action is possessive, just like his furious gaze. I push him away.