opens his door, looking appropriately disheveled for two in the morning. His blond hair stands in tufts, and his eyes are half-lidded. He yawns as he rests his arm against the doorframe. “What can I do for you at this hour, captain? I assume it’s nothing urgent or you wouldn’t have bothered knocking.”
“Am I your captain?” I ask.
He narrows his tired eyes further, smirking. “In theory.”
“Good. Does that mean you trust me?”
“Surprisingly, that statement doesn't instill a lot of trust.”
“I'm going to do something that might seem like a bad idea, but I swear I know what I’m doing.” I pause and then wryly add, “In theory.”
He lifts a quizzical brow. “And…”
“I need your help.”
“All right—I’m intrigued.”
“I’m going to marry Amalia tonight. I want you to stand as our witness.”
For the first time in his life, Tryndon has been rendered speechless. My brother stares at me like he misunderstood—as if, surely, I didn’t utter the words he swears he heard.
I wait for him to come to terms with the fact that I did.
“Rhys…” he says, finally finding his voice. “You can’t.”
“I can, and I will—with you or without you. But I’d rather say my vows with my brother standing by my side.”
He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re insane. Go to bed.”
I catch the door when he begins to shut it. “I need to tell you what I learned in the forest. Will you listen?”
He narrows his eyes, studying me. Finally, he opens the door and allows me inside.
By the time I finish my story, Tryndon is slumped forward in a chair, rubbing his face with both his hands. “You were hallucinating. You said it yourself—you had the sickness.”
“I wasn’t delirious at that point. The fairy healed me.”
“Rhys…”
“Again, I ask you—do you trust me?”
“I do. Of course I do. But this? It’s too much. Rhys, this is treason. You’re not only disobeying your father; you’re disobeying your king.”
I growl, knowing Tryndon’s right. And when it comes down to it, I wouldn’t believe me either.
There must be a way to prove it.
Suddenly I turn back to him. “The medicine the fairy gave us—if it cures the sickness as promised, will you be able to believe me?”
“There is no cure for the sickness.”
“Exactly. If I’ve returned with one, the rest of what I claim must be true.”
I watch the play of emotions on my brother’s face. He’s relenting. I wait, trying to be patient, knowing if I push, he’ll push back.
Finally, he rises. “I’m humoring you—nothing more.”
“That’s enough for now.”
“Fine,” he says with another yawn. “Let’s go talk to the doctor.”
Tryndon and I return to the manor at just after three in the morning.
My brother is too quiet. It would be unnerving if my mind weren’t on other things. I half-expect to find Amalia asleep. I promise myself I’ll call the whole thing off if she is.
But I find her sitting on her bed, hands clasped in her lap, wearing the gown she wore to dinner on the ship. Tonight, she managed to tie it herself.
“You’re back?” she asks. “Will you tell me where you went?”
“The infirmary.”
She looks as though that’s the last thing she expected.
“Kess’s fever broke this afternoon,” I say.
Amalia’s eyes widen with hope. “The fairy’s cure…”
I nod, and a smile spreads across my face, feeling foreign. “Amalia, it worked.”
She lets out a long sigh of relief, closing her eyes and tipping her head back.
“Kent has administered it to several other patients, and their recovery has been similar. He’s hoping they can eradicate the sickness before it has a chance to spread into the city.”
I give Amalia a moment to process, studying her pretty face. She looks almost angelic—pure and perfect. It takes my breath away even as it makes me feel like a twisted, dark creature hoping to capture something lovely in its gnarled clutches.
When she opens her eyes, she catches me watching her. Her expression morphs into something that causes worry to writhe in my gut.
“Rhys…” she says quietly, clasping her hands tighter. “The cure proved to be real…what if the rest is as well? If I marry you, will I bring ruin on us all?"
We study each other, doubt heavy between us. Amalia worries she’ll destroy her kingdom. But I’m afraid I’m going to destroy her.
“Amalia,” I say, knowing I must tread carefully. “I need you to trust me.”
“I do trust you—I do. But, Rhys, your secrets are a fortress wall you’ve built around yourself, and I can’t get in. I hope you can see