Havenfall (Havenfall #1)(26)

“What good will come of waiting?” he asks us. “A leaderless society is a vulnerable one. There are plans to be made. We must close the Solarian door.”

I look to Graylin instinctively, but he shakes his head. “It can’t be someone from another Realm,” he says softly. “The laws are clear about that. The Innkeeper—or anyone acting in the Innkeeper’s stead”—he swallows, but goes on—“has to be neutral. Has to be human.”

I sense the direction of his words, and panic reignites, flaring in my stomach. “Sal,” I say. “Sal could do it …” I’m not ready. Not yet.

The Silver Prince steps forward. His face and voice are softer when he speaks to me.

“Madeline,” he says. “I was younger than you are now when I erected the barrier around Oasis. Youth is nothing if you have a clever mind and a strong heart.”

But I don’t have either of those things, I want to say. If I were strong, if I were clever, everything would be different. My family would still be here. Maybe Brekken would still be here, if I had been sharper-eyed, kept better track of what his hands were doing in the hayloft. I could have stopped him, made him explain himself.

“I’m sure Marcus will wake up soon,” Graylin says, squeezing my shoulder with his left hand, while his right still streams magic down into Marcus’s chest. “But until then, we’ll be with you every step of the way, Maddie.”

“You won’t be alone,” the Silver Prince echoes. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me, steady, intense, that feels like an anchor.

I swallow, laying Marcus’s wrist carefully down at his side. To give myself time to consider, and to have something to do with my hands, I bend and gather some of the scattered papers from Marcus’s desk, carefully avoiding touching any of the sticky blue blood staining the floor.

It makes sense, I guess, why someone from another Realm can’t lead Havenfall. Tensions between the magic-gifted worlds have flickered and shifted over the centuries like tides; most recently, in the nineteenth century, before the city of Oasis was built around the Byrnisian doorway, the ruinous climate of that world sometimes spilled through into Haven and the other worlds. Gouts of flame or ice or toxic, blistering wind, strong enough to fill the tunnels and wipe out anyone unlucky enough to be passing through at the moment.

Back then, Fiorden and Solarian delegates entered a secret alliance to close off the door to Byrn forever. Byrnisian delegates caught them in the act, and it sparked a battle that led to a dozen dead delegates on both sides. The Innkeeper at the time—whoever held the post before my ancestor Annabelle—stopped the violence with a hasty treaty: the door would remain open provided that Byrn weathermakers were posted there at all times to keep the passageway safe. But it’s clear that the Silver Prince has never forgiven the short-lived Fiorden–Solarian plot to cut his world off from the Realms.

And Brekken. He’s gone, and so are my keys, and that can’t be good. It definitely doesn’t look good. What could my friend possibly have to do with this? His face flashes through my mind, his laughing smile as he stepped away from me at my door. The lightness of my pocket where the office keys are missing. Our kiss, his hands on me, under my clothes.

It doesn’t square with the boy who carried shiny polished stones or bits of brightly colored eggshells or books of poetry in his pockets, all the way from another world, just to give them to me.

My eyes blur with tears, a drop falling on a piece of paper as I pick it up, some kind of handwritten receipt. Marcus is so careful, so conscientious of his responsibility to keep the peace. Please let him wake up.

The Silver Prince’s voice comes softly, breaking me out of my spiral of thoughts. “Madeline?”

Get it together, Maddie. People are depending on you.

I take a deep breath, stand and lift my chin. Fear rages in my chest, but I can’t let that rule me. Solarians took my mother and brother from me. I won’t lose Havenfall too.

“Okay,” I say to the room. I meet the Prince’s steady gaze, drawing some comfort from knowing Graylin is behind me. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

The Silver Prince nods and leans casually against the bookshelf, folding his arms. He doesn’t seem discomfited by the Solarian corpse at his feet. “My advisor, Bram, and I were leaving the ballroom earlier tonight when we saw a Fiorden soldier heading toward the tunnels. It didn’t seem right, so we followed.”

I swallow hard. “And you’re sure it was Brekken of Myr? The soldier we spoke to in the ballroom?”

I strive to keep my voice casual. I spoke to lots of people in the ballroom tonight. The Prince doesn’t know there’s anything special between me and Brekken. I want to keep it that way—I don’t want anyone to know, not until I’ve untangled what’s going on.

The Prince gives me a considering gaze. “Yes, fairly sure. Red hair and red jewels in his ears.” His tone says he is entirely sure, even if he’s trying to be tactful.

Even though I expected that answer, it’s still a blow. My stomach sinks, and I lean back against Marcus’s desk, gripping the papers so tightly they crumple beneath my fingers. All the feelings I had kissing Brekken float back to me, but now they’re twisted and corrupt, heady joy turning to sick dizziness, the butterflies in my gut dissolving into nausea.