Page 71 of The Crown's Awakening
“Then you should not remain here long enough to give birth.”
“Where would I go?”
“That is what we will decide.”
We.It somehow feels good to have someone on my side. I know no one in Alarna should be trusted, but something about Uncle Uralish I trust. And Syle.
“You cannot trust anyone in that palace. Not the guards. Not the court. Many answer to Balkton, to Venya, to their son,” Uralish adds.
Syle makes a low sound of agreement in my mind.
"Venya and Balkton, are they Opens?"
"Perhaps that is what they claim in the shadows to garner support, but the truth is they are their own selfish stance. Royalists, if they are the ones ruling."
A thought enters. "Wait. Balkton and Venya have a son? I thought they were siblings? And I thought she was your wife?"
"Ex-wife, because she is a whore who fucks her brother."
I almost laugh but think of Syle. "Does it bother you when he speaks this way?"
"No. Because it is true. Besides, it is no secret that she dislikes me. She prefers Hurstinal, my half-brother.
“I will send for the Avanki,” Uralish continues. “Desert warriors. They answer only to our line. They swore themselves to your mother, and that oath extends to you.”
“They will come to you.”
“How many?”
“Enough,” he says. “Several hundred thousand.”
The number sits between us, heavy with implication.
“You will need more than that,” he adds.
I look at him. “For what?”
Something almost amused passes through his expression. “It is written all over you,” he says.
“What is?”
“You want Veynar.”
I do not deny it.
“You want all of it.” He takes the last drink from his flask and empties it into the grass beside us. “I do not blame you,” he says. “The world is not kind. You might as well have the power to control it before someone else does.”
He looks at me then, fully.
“And if that is what you want, Queen Heir,” he says, “you can have as many of my troops as you need.”
Solace
NOX
Just days after her first visit, Nox is called again to the king’s chambers. She enters already wearing Brinette’s body and lets herself take in the dressing room before acknowledging the man who summoned her. Gowns line the walls in careful order, layered by color and weight, silk and velvet and embroidery worked so finely it borders on excess. All of it curated with an intent that extends beyond aesthetics into something quieter. More consuming.
Sevrin stands near the center of it, his attention on the garments rather than her. He speaks without turning.
