Page 15 of Wings of Snow
Michas gave a curt nod as sunlight shining through the window glinted off the curls in his hair. “My father overheard King Novakin one night, over a full season ago, speaking to someone in the hall when the king didn’t know he was near. It was late, almost the middle of the night, and everyone had retired to their chambers hours before, but my father couldn’t sleep so had gone down to the kitchens to get some warm milk. He’d taken a servant passage since it was faster, a hall typically only used during the day, when he overheard the king talking to someone in hushed tones near the bottom of the stairwell. He was telling whoever he was talking to thatit needed to die, all of it. He didn’t outright say theorem, but he said until it was dead, his plans couldn’t begin.”
My breath stopped. “Are you saying the king is behind the dyingorem?”
Michas raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but it was a strange enough comment in a strange enough circumstance that my father remembered it. And then a month later, the first report came in from Isalee that a field had died.”
I placed my hands on my hips. “Who was the king speaking to in that stairwell?”
Michas shrugged. “We don’t know. My father was afraid of the king learning of his eavesdropping, so he went back the way he came and returned to his chamber, but—” He shook his head.
“What?”
“It’s probably nothing, but my father also said the strangest smell was in the air during that moment. A smell he’d never detected before.”
I frowned. “What kind of smell?”
“Like...rot. It stood out enough and was pungent enough that he couldn’t help but notice it.”
Rot?My thoughts flashed back to a night Ilara had scented something similar. “Do you know anything else?”
“No, but that’s what I was going to tell Ilara the night of our date. I was going to tell her what my father suspected of the king and theorem.”
I mulled over what he’d revealed. “So you truly think my father is behind the dying crops?”
“We do.”
Still stunned, for a moment, I couldn’t move, but then I shook myself and said, “Thank you for telling me.”
Michas’s nostrils flared, and he eyed me coldly. “I’ll deny any of this if you betray me or tell the king.”
“I won’t tell the king anything.”
We studied each other, the distrust still flowing between us so strongly that I could taste it, and since it didn’t seem our childhood rivalry was ending anytime soon, I added, “So you and your father, even knowing the king may be behind the dyingorem, have decided to support an invasion anyway versus getting to the bottom of how the king’s doing it?”
Michas’s lip curled.
I scoffed. “Still hoping to capitalize on this, I see. Some things never change.”
Michas toed closer to me. “Your father has been on the throne for hundreds of winters. Sometimes drastic measures are needed to disrupt power.”
“And you were hoping to claim the throne during an invasion the second a moment of weakness appeared. Why am I not surprised?”
Michas snarled. “That time could still come. One of these days, you may find yourself bowing tome.”
“If that day ever comes, Michas, it’ll be when my dead body’s before you, and you’re forcing it into a bow.”
I dispersed my air Shield and gave him my back as I strode to the door. “Enjoy your sparring, Lord Crimsonale.”
He gave me his pinky finger just as I closed the door behind me, and even though a part of me raged at the Crimsonales’ greed for power, I also knew that Michas had taken a chance by confessing what he knew to me.
Seething, I stalked down the hall. I had no idea how my father could have killed theorem, but one thing I did know, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest to learn who the real mastermind was behind this.
CHAPTER 6 - ILARA
“How are we to travel to the Adrall Temple?” I asked Drachu as he plucked a piece of purple fruit from the counter and chewed it languidly.
His throat worked when he swallowed, and his sharp canines glinted in the morning light. “This is how.”
He slipped a hand into his robe’s pocket, then opened his palm to reveal several tiny metallic keys. They were minuscule, each one only the length of his knuckle, but he displayed them so proudly that I had a feeling they were much more than they appeared.