Haven tried to glean information from the cousins that would paint a better picture on King Elhaem’s relationship with the new Penryth court and ruler, but whenever she tried, they feigned not understanding her, even when she used the Solissian common tongue.
Why was it important to see the city before dinner? Especially knowing the risks of leaving the protection of the palace? By now, Haven felt she understood enough about Eros and Neri to see that they were nothing like King Horace.
If they promised Haven and Bell were safe within these walls, they meant it.
But . . . Archeron was the Sun Sovereign, and the wards of this city no match for his power and influence. And Renk, while not the brightest, possessed a lethal cunning that, when combined with his cruelty, was every bit as dangerous as King Horace had been.
Because of that, she never relaxed during the tour.
Not when they were taken through a winery and given samples of a sparkling honey-gold wine that tasted like heaven. Not when they stopped in the shops to be fitted for the light, airy clothes for the evening—a present from Eros.
Not even during their last stop, at an oceanside restaurant overlooking the harbor, where they were served crab legs and lobster fresh from the sea. She sat on a stone bench near the balcony next to Bell and Surai, unable to enjoy the food as she scanned the horizon for any signs of danger.
Stolas noticed, and he raised an ash-colored eyebrow until she snapped the hard shell of a crab leg, dipped the delicate white meat into a ramekin of red sauce, and crammed the entire thing into her mouth.
Satisfied? she demanded into his mind.
Not nearly. He grinned, that dark gaze going to her mouth. You have some . . . sauce on your bottom lip.
Ignoring him, she forced the rest of the meal into her mouth, her body grateful for the sustenance even if she could hardly taste it.
When she glanced back at Stolas, prepared to continue their private barb session, he was deep into his own private conversation with Delphine.
Haven couldn’t tear her eyes from the two as they signed back and forth. Stolas was leaned in close, his eyes alight, smiling in a way that shouldn’t bother Haven—but did. His hand made a series of symbols, and Delphine’s face jerked into silent, hysterical laughter, tears glistening the corners of her eyes.
Even dressed in normal clothes, with their wings magicked away, it was obvious they were Seraphian by their moon-white hair, pale skin, and ever-changing eye colors. While Delphine was smaller—as most Seraphian females seemed to be—and didn’t possess the horns that only royal Seraphians sported, she could very well be his sister.
Or lover.
Her last bite lodged in her throat.
Was that what he wanted? What he needed? Someone who understood him, his customs and language and history. Delphine knew exactly how he stayed fed.
And instead of looking away when he did, she would probably join him.
She released a shaky breath, a strange, twisting sensation grinding in her chest.
If Stolas didn’t have to spend all his time training Haven, worrying about her, perhaps he and Delphine—
“You okay?” Surai asked suddenly. She was dabbing at her lips with the corner of a white linen after somehow polishing off a giant mountain of crab legs.
“Yeah.” Haven forced a smile. “Just, you know, being so close to Penryth is . . . hard.”
Surai slid her knowing gaze to Stolas and Delphine and then back to her. “Hmm.” Her lavender eyes darkened. “You are sure you’re up for dinner tonight? We can postpone, King Eros—”
“No. Tonight has to happen.”
Surai and Bell exchanged a quick look of concern. They hadn’t stopped watching her since she met them this morning for breakfast. She had been vague about what Archeron had done, desperate to spare her friends the worry.
It was hard to say that every time she looked into their eyes, the gruesome reenactment of their death played out before her, so real she couldn’t breathe. Harder still to face the reality that, when she first woke up, a part of her was ready to give herself to Archeron just to spare them.
Which was what Archeron wanted.
“Haven.” It was Bell’s turn to plead with her, his bright blue eyes the same color as the sea below. “No one would blame you if you needed a day to recover from—”
“The only way to protect me, to protect all of us from Archeron