A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) - Amanda Joy Page 0,44

great hulking man with velvety antlers and hooved feet, but he looked right through Isa, as if she didn’t exist.

They had little interest in her. Which was perfectly fine, because she wasn’t keen to get to know them, besides learning who caused the accident. She wanted to make that one pay—a sentiment she had no business harboring, considering she had no opportunity to do so and Aketo swore it had been an accident. (On the way back to her rooms yesterday, she’d asked no short of ten times and he would not waver.)

The difficulty was that Isa wanted—needed—to do something. She needed to know what was next. She couldn’t escape until they left the Plain, and even then she’d have to choose the right moment. And somehow, she’d have to get Eva to take off these shackles first. The only way she saw to get that done was agreeing to this truce.

It was near midday when Aketo knocked on her door. She knew it was him, because Kelis, the bloodkin soldier who’d been assigned to watch her door, would have simply come inside. The woman only communicated through sucking her teeth and dramatic sighs. Isadore almost respected the frankness of her disdain. At least her gaze did not skitter from Isa’s every time their eyes caught, like the rest of theirs did.

The door swung wide and the Prince’s horns barely cleared the doorway as he stepped inside. Aketo carried a tray of sliced fruit and more flatbreads, drizzled with honey and mango paste. A steaming pot of tea completed the array, and she prayed it was strong. In Ternain, she had kaffe every morning before Court.

Wordlessly he set it down on the floor beside her spot at the window and returned to lean against the doorjamb. His face was lined with exhaustion. Black curls spilled over his shoulders, ebon horns gleaming thanks to the sun. “Whenever you are ready, let me know.”

“Well?” Isa demanded. “Is her condition the same?”

She gathered her hair in a knot to one side, furtively peering at the dark blond strands. Her glamour was an illusion that worked even on her eyes. She had a mind to let it fall away bit by bit, till everyone could see the true color—light brown shot through with gold.

Aketo nodded. “I would let you know if something changed.”

“And what of yours? Are you still in the same foul mood?” She took her first sip of tea and scorched her tongue, gulping it down.

His eyebrows rose—barely a crack in his armor—as he studied her. “No. I’m in an even fouler temper.”

“Well done. I wasn’t sure you had darker depths. I worried you and Eva wouldn’t have anything in common. You know, blood magick and all. She can be a bit gloomy, prone to wallow in her pain.”

He turned to stare at her, more bemused than angry. “Did you ever learn to enjoy others’ company without picking at them?”

Isa shrugged. “It’s in my nature to manipulate.”

Picking, as he termed it, helped her know where all the tender places were—the pinch points. The anxieties and fears she could mold to her advantage. It was what she was made to do. She only had practical knowledge of light magick. It was nothing compared with her true gift, its rush and power.

Persuasion.

“How early on did you decide that?”

“Before my tattooing.” Back when she’d investigated each time magick crackled beneath her skin. Magick had come to Isa early and often. She remembered the first time she’d ensnared a friend’s mind accidentally and the first time she’d done it on purpose. All before her ninth nameday. She barely understood what she was doing, and was lucky she’d never damaged anyone’s mind from her childhood fumbling.

She’d loved magick for as long as she could remember and had always yearned for more. Eva may have feared her power, but Isa wanted it—a real weapon. Her persuasion magick had its limits after all. You could not simply persuade someone to fall over dead. But with blood magick, no one would defy her without fear for their life.

With power like her sister’s she would be safe.

“Being human, this may be difficult for you to accept, but magick doesn’t determine our nature. It’s just . . . a gift, not a manifestation of your soul.”

She considered correcting him—half human—but it would be unkind to dump her secrets in his lap and ask him to hold them. Isa wasn’t sure he even believed what he was saying. Of course magick reflected the