Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords #3)(62)

“Where were you today?” Jovan asks. He’s already eaten and sits sprawled on his throne, watching his assembly. Sometimes he puts on this pose to fluster his subjects. But I think he genuinely finds this position comfortable too. I wonder what he thinks about as he looks at his people. Does he love them? Does he only see his past?

“Doing this and that. How was the council?” I ask. He makes an exasperated sound in his throat.

“It would be different if something were being decided,” he replies. I nod, fully understanding his predicament.

“It’s not really a problem we have on Osolis. The Tatum is more of a dictatorial position. Mother tells her Satums what to do upon hearing their evaluations. The only time nothing is decided is when she meets with the peace delegation to discuss the treaty—her way of delaying progress, I imagine. I like your way, though it’s more long-winded. It makes sense to gather different views and then decide on the best one as a group.”

“I’m certain both have their advantages.” Roscoe joins in from Jovan’s other side. I dip my head his way and enter into conversation with the polite older man.

Jovan sits quietly between us, a mountain beside me. I catch him staring at me more than once. He observes me over a hand, which absently plays with the light stubble on his face.

“We have a meeting with the Ire tonight.” He interrupts Roscoe mid-sentence. Roscoe flashes me a wry smile, obviously quite used to this.

“Excuse me, Roscoe,” I say and turn to Jovan. “It’s been a week already? I’d lost track of time.”

“Yes. I assume the messenger will use the cover of darkness,” he says. I agree with a slow nod.

“It would make sense. The person won’t be harmed?” I ask.

“I’ve given the warning I’m expecting company. The order has gone out that no arrows are to be shot.”

*

I stand on the rooftop with the king, waiting for the person from the Ire. My rushed conversation with Adox to organize this meeting hadn’t included details on who would be delivering the report. I hope it’s not one of Adox’s two burly men. I don’t particularly like them. I’m sure the feeling is mutual. I lean against the barred railing surrounding the Hawk’s entrance. The giant messenger hawks are used to carry communication between our two worlds. They can fly straight into the food hall in the King’s castle through the trap door openings in the castle roof, though I’ve only been lucky enough to see them do this once. The railing I lean on protects patrolling watchmen from a nasty fall to the bottom of the food hall.

“What are you thinking about?” Jovan asks. I smile at him since he can actually see it. I’ve removed my veil for the meeting as Willow, my Ire persona, doesn’t wear one.

“The Ire,” I say.

“What’s it like there?” He sits down against the parapet and looks at me expectantly. He rolled his eyes when I told him I was going up to wait, but he’d joined me nevertheless, grumbling something about how the king isn’t supposed to wait for anyone.

“It’s … incredible. Have you even been on the Oscala?” I ask. He gives a minute shake of the head, not taking his blue eyes off me. It reminds me of our conversation the other day.

“Just to the base of it, for drills,” he clarifies. I launch into a description of the Ire, trying to remember the very best parts. I end up telling him about most of my stay there. Most of it.

While I talk, he sits silently with the rapt attention of a child. It’s unnerving, and … flattering. I sit next to him and prod him in the leg.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask, crossing my legs.

He tilts his head to me. “That I like the sound of your voice. I always liked stories.” He shrugs one shoulder, as he tends to do when uncomfortable. “Also, that I haven’t seen very much of my world.”

“You’ve been busy. And it’s easy to rectify. You probably need to visit the Outer Rings with Blizzard soon. And not when you’re chasing me,” I add, ignoring his raised brow. “Go during the day when nothing is hidden. When the people aren’t hiding away, trying to survive the night. Go when there’s daylight so you can see the people stabbed to death in the alleyways, and the devastation.”

He rests his hands on bent knees, deep in thought, or, I realize a moment later, trying to conceal his reaction to my brutal words.

“Do you know I’ve only seen half of Osolis?” I ask. “Mother wouldn’t let me out of the royal rotations, so I’ve only seen the first three rotations. When I go back, I’d like to travel around all of them extensively. I need to get an idea of how badly she’s been treating the villagers. Perhaps I’ll do a tour, as you do.”

His answer seems stilted when he eventually makes it. “That makes me feel better about not seeing my world,” he says roughly. “The difference being, I could have easily visited the Outer Rings if I wished. I only visit the Inner and Middle Rings during my tour. But I have a visit planned with Blizzard tomorrow.” He waves his hand and stops with it in mid-air as he squints ahead of us.

“Someone’s coming.” He stands and falls naturally into his commanding posture.

“Remember, I’m your inferior,” I say.

“My minion?” he asks.

I debate standing on his foot. The messenger lands on whisper-soft feet. He still has the best landing I’ve ever seen.