Page 103 of The Fury She Holds
“Butwecan’t trusthim!”
“He values his duty and his reputation more than anything. The council convinced him I did nothing but waste the kingdom’s resources. If he realizes we’re trying to fix things, he’ll do as I say. And if he tries anything, I’ll have his title publicly stripped and leave him in the stocks for a week before hanging him.” He pleaded with Tal. He knew she would rather gut the prick. “We need to know what the council is planning, and he’s going to tell us.”
“He knows about my magic, Faron. What if he tells them?” Tal cursed herself for revealing her secret.
“Jens and a number of soldiers are fiercely loyal to me. They will keep the captain in line.”
They argued the whole way back to the tunnels, and the peace that surrounded them for the last two days shattered. They joined everyone for dinner in the tunnel common area, sitting side-by-side, but not speaking. She knew her friends noticed the change between her and the king, but no one asked. She wanted to get the attention off the new distance between them. “I don’t think he knew what magic I have.”
All heads snapped to where she sat in the corner eating a roasted potato with bone broth. Faron tensed beside her.
“He kept telling me to reveal my gift, but he never said fire, or even fury, for that matter.”
Unease hung in the air, but it was no surprise that Rain responded first. “So, it’s possible they’re only after you based on mere suspicion of your ability. That could be good or bad news.”
“Why is that?” Sybil asked her brother.
“It’s good that fewer people know about her fury. Otherwise more than just mages would be after her. It’s no secret that anyone with power would go to any lengths to have a fire fury in their arsenal.”
“I’d never let that happen,” Faron said darkly. This whole possessive side of him was new to Tal. She was so used to the carefree noble who followed excitement wherever it went. She didn’t know how to respond to the sudden change. Part of her wanted to slap it out of him and tell him she belonged to no one. But a small part of her liked his protectiveness. Carrick felt a similar responsibility for Tal, a familial bond, but with Faron, it bordered on territorial. The idea of the king—disheveled and out of breath—standing above her with lust in his gaze—lust forher—sent a heat through Tal that made her shift in her seat. Faron noticed.
“There are more powerful kingdoms and more morally corrupt kings out there, your majesty,” Sybil warned.
Faron narrowed his eyes, but didn’t argue. Meladair’s weakness was no secret. His council continued pushing the issue of marriage for that reason. An alliance with a powerful kingdom could ensure their safety for a whole generation.
“The bad news,” Rain continued, “is that they pursued you so vigorously without even knowing you have control over the fire element. If they ever find out, we’ll be in a world of trouble. Let’s not forget we still haven’t figured out Sybil’s vision.” He turned his attention on Faron. “I’m assuming you know which room her vision is referring to?”
Faron swallowed and turned his gaze to the floor. “The council chambers, by your description.”
Tal didn’t want to address the matter of him withholding this information, but Carrick did so anyway. “Rain has been asking for the significance of this room for over a month, and you knew all along?”
“It would have raised the wrong suspicions and wouldn’t have changed anything.”
Faron’s apologetic tone did little to appease Carrick’s irritation. He pressed his lips into a thin line before opening his mouth to respond, but Sybil interrupted.
“I had another vision while Tal was missing,” Sybil revealed.
Tal tensed. Out of the corner of her eye, Faron clenched his jaw. Rain stared at the floor, but Carrick and Egan both braced for more information.
“A letter, with your signature.” She nodded to the king. “It was addressed to a Lord Niktovaz. Something about regret.”
Faron hung his head. “Lord Niktovaz is the father of the woman my own father arranged for me to marry when he took the throne. I wrote that letter last winter to end my betrothal.”
“Why would you have a vision of the letter now?” Tal ignored the unease in her stomach at the mention of Faron’s betrothal.
Sybil bit her lip and locked eyes with her brother before returning Tal’s gaze. “When the vision of the letter faded, I saw Pochette’s deal with the mage, then my vision with the Pyrie again.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Egan asked.
“I think,” Rain concluded, “that the ending of the marriage contract caught the attention of someone powerful.”
“So? What does that have to do with Tal?” Carrick stood with his arms crossed, fists clenched. The muscle in his jaw flexed, and Tal wondered if he’d ground his teeth to nothing with all the anger he’d harbored since her capture.
Rain opened his mouth to speak, but Faron interrupted. “I foolishly thought there would be no consequences. I was wrong. Of course her father would be furious. Of course he would demand retribution.” He clenched his fist and tapped his foot restlessly.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Rain said. “I’ve heard whispers from traders that foreign powers have turned their eyes to our kingdom, wondering why you have no need of an alliance. But more importantly, there’s talk of other alliances your council is making that the others view as a threat.”
“The mage claimed to be working with a woman,” Tal offered. Perhaps this woman was in talks with the council. Or perhaps she was one of the curious rivals hoping to discover Meladair’s secrets. Rain asked for more information, but Tal had none to give. Silence hung within the small tunnel room.
