wheat.”
He’s silent.
“You’ve seen far worse,” I say quietly. “I suppose this seems trivial.”
“No.” He looks forward, his dark eyes on the growing city ahead of us. “It’s…concerning.”
I glance behind me. Rhys speaks with Lewis and Braith, and he’s a little too far back to hear my conversation with Aeron. I return my attention to the man by my side. “Rhys said the farmers had no choice but to burn the crop and abandon the field. It seems…extreme.”
Aeron studies me, almost as if he’s trying to decide how much he should share. “It’s not extreme. It also won’t work. Inhibiting the spread of the disease is like carrying water in the palms of your hands—you can do it for a while, but eventually…”
The sick feeling in my stomach grows, and I nod.
I stare at my horse’s mane. “Aeron?”
“Hmm?” he answers absently.
“You’ve been in Draegan. Do you know anything about the royal family?”
He makes a startled noise.
“Morgan has a careless mouth,” I tell him, surprised Rhys didn’t already share that bit of information with his men. “I know you’ve been in Draegan these last few years.”
The knight nods slowly, his expression shielded. “What do you want to know?”
“I’m not really sure. I…never mind.” There’s no reason to do this a dozen times. “I’ll speak with the group once we’ve reunited with Tryndon and Morgan.”
Before Aeron rides ahead, he coaxes his horse a bit closer. “I do know something.”
I meet his eyes, asking him to continue.
“When it comes down to it, they’re not that different from you—”
I begin to protest, but he raises a brow, asking me to let him finish.
When I clamp my mouth shut, he continues, “They want the best for their people, and they’ll do anything to protect their loved ones.”
“Even monsters care for their young,” I say, wishing I hadn’t asked. “That doesn’t make them human.”
Aeron snorts, dismissing me as he rides ahead. “What do you know of monsters, princess?”
I bristle, wanting to snarl that I’ve seen my share of them in the last few weeks. But then I realize my share is probably only a small fraction of what he saw daily in Draegan.
9
I watch Aeron and Amalia as they talk, resisting the urge to interrupt their conversation. My castle is built on a foundation of lies, and if the knight unknowingly destroys even one, it will all come crashing down.
They don’t speak for long before Aeron rides ahead. I draw in a deep breath, relieved.
Aeron isn’t likely to be the one to slip. He’s secretive, quiet, often bitter—not that he doesn’t have reason to be. I’m not sure why he spoke with the princess at all.
“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Braith says, his eyes on Amalia. “Fortune smiles on Edwin. You never know with an arranged marriage—she could have been dreadfully homely.”
Lewis laughs as Braith rides ahead, giving me a strange look when I don’t join them. I force a smile, pretending I still have intentions of delivering Amalia to Edwin.
I don’t.
She won’t step foot in Draegan if I have anything to say about it. I’ll leave her here, in her cousin’s care, and my men and I will return home to sort through the mess.
I must speak with Edwin and find out if there is any truth to the fairy’s words.
Amalia won’t let me leave unless I tell her we’re going on a rescue mission for her brother, but what’s one more lie?
“That was a world-weary sigh,” Lewis says, watching me far more closely than I am comfortable with.
“When did my life become so complicated?” I say aloud.
“Hmmm.” Lewis strokes his short beard. “Perhaps when you fell for your brother’s bride?”
“You’re as bad as Tryndon,” I snarl.
“It’s not like you’ve done a good job of hiding it,” he points out. “You think there’s even one of us who doesn’t know?”
“What do I do?” I ask, genuinely wanting an answer.
He eyes me. “You do your duty.”
“And what if…” I cut myself off, momentarily losing my nerve before pressing on. “What if I’ve learned something that changes everything?”
Lewis laughs. “Don’t go spouting off some nursery story drivel about true love saving all.”
“What if Edwin isn’t my father’s son?”
Judging from Lewis’s sharp intake of breath, it’s obvious I’ve caught his attention. He whips his eyes toward the rest of the men, making sure no one overheard me. “What are you talking about?”
“The witch in the woods—she’s not a witch. She’s a fairy.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It is possible—I spoke with her myself.”
He shakes his head, refusing to accept it. Lewis is