King of Shifters chuckled wickedly. “I did tell him last time that he needed to work on his words. Mayhap he is trying.”
“Grand time for him to do so.” Father stood from his chair swiftly, fidgeting with his caster-spelled ring. “If you will excuse me, I will take my leave. Queen Mikko, once you’re done with your investigation of your sister, send a messenger for where we should meet before the eclipse.”
The caster queen nodded, her expression pinched—even though she tried to hide it. “Of course. I already have an idea of where to start, an area that she often frequents on the outskirts of Wickley Marsh.”
I cringed. This did not look favorable for her.
Prostitution at her capital city’s back door.
Father lifted one red brow. “It looks like you need to keep a better eye on your kingdom, Queen Mikko.”
Her brown mist eyes flayed him. “I said that’s where I will start. I did not say that is where my investigation will end. Do not jump to conclusions, King Traevon. There is no wrongdoing in the public eye of the Caster Kingdom. I assure you of that. Wherever this den of debauchery is, it is hidden.”
“By spell then.” King Traevon nodded in agreement and strolled toward the door. “Good luck to you, Queen Mikko. You will need it.”
CHAPTER NINE
Confession of a princess:
When one lives in a place full of bygone memories, it is not always in the best interest of that person. Even if they are loving memories. For when someone passes, we are left alone with only our thoughts of them. To have a ghost as your best friend is a dangerous time indeed.
I now strive not to disappear into the past when I have a future, for this realm is for the living, not the dead.
I am strong. I am a survivor.
As is everyone who is still here.
MY CASTLE WAS so quiet.
I held a stolen gift in my hand and walked over the tiling to the staircase, my sandaled footsteps echoing in the terrible stillness. I climbed the stairs, the loneliness suffocating. No servants bustled nearby on my deserted trek, all still at Father’s castle helping with the clean-up—and soon would be ready for their own beds. I walked down the fourth-floor hallway, vibrant paintings of flora hanging on the walls, all by the talented hand of Mother. But the color of gray began to creep in on the sides of my vision, a hue of terrible feelings I knew bloody well from my days in Sugar Cove.
“I miss you,” I whispered as I passed Grandmother Isabella’s room, running my free hand over the wood of her closed door. I ambled to my bedchamber and stood in the doorway for far too long, blindly peering inside. I blinked my dry eyes and shook my head hard, whispering, “I am strong. I am a survivor. I am strong. I am a survivor. I am strong. I am a survivor.”
“I haven’t heard you say that since our earliest days in exile,” Caspian murmured gently.
I jerked my head to the right, my eyes widening in shock. “What in the Fairy, Cas!”
He quirked his lips up in a soft smile. “Our king ordered me to guard you all night, up until you entered your room for bed.” His dark blue eyes flicked down at my feet, where they straddled the hallway and my bedchamber. “You haven’t quite made it there.”
My nostrils flared. “I am fine. You may go.”
He tipped his head to the side, his tone quiet. “You don’t look fine, Trix.”
I sighed heavily and pulled my hair back from my face in frustration. “It is just being in this castle again. The work I did to heal from Grandmother Isabella’s death is cracking while I’m here. There are too many memories everywhere I turn.”
“Is it as bad as before?” Caspian asked bluntly.
“No, I am not that sad,” I whispered. I shuddered at the thought of the horrible grief I’d battled in the first few months in Sugar Cove. I never wanted to experience that again. “Although, if I ever lose one of my parents, you will need to knock me unconscious for the next year.”
He murmured patiently, “No one ever wants to experience the despair of a loved one’s passing, but we move forward from it. Just as you did before, and as you will one day do again. As you said, you are strong, and you are a survivor.”
My nose scrunched. “Not anytime soon, I hope.”
“Nowhere near anytime soon.” Caspian