Page 110 of The Faceless Queen

“I said that it might not happen in the way you understand it to,” he snapped, no longer Lord Brandon. His eyes flashed a dangerous indigo, and he straightened his purple velvet cloak, a silver unicorn pin glinting in the hall’s torchlight.

I took a step back.

The Hermit’s eyes narrowed. “I never said it might not happen. It will. It is. My prophecies always come to pass.” He shook his head. “I told you. I told you not to get your heart involved. Not to fall in love, to remember your oath, to fulfill your duty. You didn’t listen, so hear me now. You saw how angry the people were, how upset. And you know Godsdamned well they’re not wrong to feel that way—assholes some of them might be. You yourself had seven years to understand their plight. To experience it for yourself, even longer to suffer what he’s doled out to our people for decades—centuries! So when you look at your prince with your lovesick eyes, and you shy away from his touch because you want to save him, remember what his family has done. Remember what they did to your queen—your mother.”

“I’ll never forget,” I hissed, my throat dry. “I know what the king is—his ancestors, half of his Godsdamned bloodline.” I shook my head, staring out the window. There were still protests happening. Random shouts condemning House Lafir, condemning Crown Prince Jaron. They didn’t know, didn’t know that he hated that name, nor cared for that title. They didn’t know he went by Brennan. And they didn’t know that he cared about them, too. “Does it get better?” I asked suddenly, my voice small. “Does life get better for them? For everyone suffering? After the prophecy is fulfilled?”

He shrugged. “We know it doesn’t get worse.” He flipped his hair over his shoulder. “And that’s saying something.”

Avoiding a Second Doom. I closed my eyes, breathing slowly, then straightened, pushing my shoulders back. With my hands carefully, delicately placed at my sides, and my hips still, I walked down the hall, Princess Olivay once again.

Dinner was a somber event. No one wanted to talk about what we’d seen. And all the nobles present knew better than to even suggest there was unrest in the kingdom.

I found the whole day so draining that I retired to my bed early to read, and left Brennan to discuss plans for the boar hunt with his men.

But a little while later, my guard knocked on my door, announcing Brennan had come to see me.

I set down my book, grabbed the candle from my nightstand, and went to the door to greet him.

“Princess Olivay,” he said, “I apologize for the late hour.”

I shook my head. “You’re always welcome to visit.”

“I did not disturb you from your sleep?” he asked nervously.

“No. Just reading.”

“Oh? What book?” he asked.

“Fairy tales of Eskalon.” I laughed, gesturing to the night table. “There wasn’t much of a selection available. It was either that or a history of farming in Eley.”

Brennan smiled, his green eyes twinkling. “You know I read that last year and found it quite engaging. It’s a most underrated read for sure.”

I laughed again. “I’m sure you did. Did you want to sit down?”

“If that’s alright with you.”

“Of course it is.” Taking his hand, I led him to the small couch at the foot of my bed.

“I mean, are you all right being so … alone. With me?” He frowned. “It’s just, we’re not at the castle, and with everything that happened today, the guards are out or taking up duty outside the estate grounds, instead of at your door. And I know your lady-in-waiting has already taken the night off.”

Meaning we were completely alone, more alone than we’d been since the moon garden. More than even that. Because this time, we had a door, and a bed. And suddenly, those things felt incredibly significant. Especially with how close we sat, how deeply I was inhaling his spiced musk perfume, and the fact that though his shoulders were hunched with exhaustion, his curls mussed, his eyes remained alert, and on me.

“Are you all right after all the things you saw today?” he asked.

“I meant to ask you the same thing. It can’t be easy to hear such things spoken about your father, or your family.” Even if he was different, even if he agreed with his people’s complaints.

He bit his lip. “I know. And I’ve known for a long time. The unrest, the protests, rebellions, the belief that my father doesn't even have the right to the throne because he was the younger brother.”

I nodded but said no more. I didn’t want to offer my opinion. I feared if I began, I might not be able to stop. That my hatred for his father would become so obvious, so clear, I’d give myself away. Olivay might have agreed with Brennan, might have sided with him. But she would have had no prior knowledge of the unrest either.

“You saw a taste of it at the tourney.” He sighed. “I think my father thought that by sending us out, showing the country that I would marry and produce an heir and therefore prove our dynasty’s line of succession was stable, that it would put their protests to rest.” He scoffed. “As if any of that was their true concern.”

“Do you think Jaron is spurring them on?” I asked carefully.

Brennan looked up at the ceiling and sighed deeply. “Who can say? Knowing him the way I do—yes. I have no doubt. But … there’s never been any proof that he was ever anything but completely loyal to my father. He’s even stood up against his mother, the Almost-Queen, several times at court.”

“Maybe he’s working quietly,” I said, my voice low.