Page 60 of Of Masks and Fury

“I don’t know much about battle, but they’re…rebels. I assume they’re clever. Able to meet our forces with strength.”

He smirked. “I assure you, His Majesty’s response will be both swift and overwhelming. The mobilization to the southern border is already underway.” He paused again, probing. “But surely a princess like you has nothing to fear. Unless there are other concerns on your mind?”

“You don’t believe I should be afraid?” She swayed as if she was about to swoon.

Crestin appeared ready to catch her if she did, his arm going around her waist from behind. “Let me help you to a bench.”

“No, I can’t bear to sit while I worry about this. It frets me so.”

“Never fear.” He patted her arm. “Your father has three full battalions, with supply trains that will stretch for cleks. I’ve heard they’ll leave within the next two weeks, marching for the border. Those Syllavarian rebels won’t know what hit them. In a short time,the threat will be crushed, and you’ll be safely wed to a man who can protect you from such unpleasantness.”

Despite my rage about his belief Syllavar could be so easily defeated, pride surged through me.

She’d just extracted intelligence about Caldrith’s attack, the scale of the force being deployed, and the timeline, all while playing the helpless princess worried about scary rebels.

She wasn’t just my lover. She was my queen in everything but name, more dangerous than any blade in the darkness, and absolutely intoxicating to watch in action. Her clever questions, full of steel, made my chest ache with pride. Fates, I loved her.

They walked on, and Isi touched her throat again, showing a hint of distress. “It’s just… I’ve been full of worry since my sister died. As a man of the world, Lord Crestin, have you heard any court rumors? I grasp for any hope for my court’s future.”

Crestin’s face hardened. “Rumors? I don’t want to worry you with such things.”

“Please tell me. I’ll rest easier tonight with knowledge, rather than clinging to fear.”

“There are rumors of magic.”

She faked a gasp, clutching her clasped hands over her heart. “Not magic.”

“It’s rampant, as you must know. Why else are you holding so many Days of Mercy?”

“Perhaps it’s not that horrible. I’ve heard magic can?—”

He scowled. “Such afflictions are often a sign of weakness, Your Highness. Strong northern blood like mine doesn’t suffer from such a thing. We’ve long since eradicated magical bloodlines, as you will eventually do here yourself. Only the weak are susceptible to the taint.”

The path led to a stone bridge arcing over a pond. Moonlight painted the scene in white and silver.

Lord Crestin stopped in the center of the bridge, turning Isi to face the pond. “A moment, Your Highness. The view from here is exquisite.”

His hand on her arm tightened, the grip shifting to restraint. His genial mask fell away, revealing cold resolve beneath, while his other hand disappeared inside his coat.

“Isi—” I started forward.

He pulled out a knife, moonlight running down the length of its thin blade.

“A flawed jewel,” he said, his voice flat. “Your line is tainted. Your court must be purified.”

The blade lifting, he lunged.

I was already moving, my sword drawn, calling her name. But I was too slow, the distance between us too far.

Pherin shrieked and launched from the trees. The air around her shimmered and her tiny form began to warp and expand. She landed with a heavy thud on the bridge and grew monstrous, her firecat’s ears laid flat and her fangs bared.

Isi dropped into the low, balanced stance I’d seen many times. The one I’d faced when we sparred in Syllavar’s training hall.

Lord Crestin drove the knife down toward her throat.

Isi met his wrist with the edge of her hand, a redirecting parry that would’ve made Thorne proud.

At the same time, power erupted from her. The shockwave of magic rippled through the air and vibrated my bones.