Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(60)

I’d use Lysander to track the man’s scent, which should still be on Meredy’s bloody cloak. Jax and Simeon didn’t want to borrow the bear on their own, knowing the damage he could cause if he got loose in the Ashes. He may be the most civil bear in existence, but there’s wildness in his blood.

Valoria rubs her eyes, drawing my gaze back to her. She always looks tired, her stare vacant, like she’s been up all night working on something or other. But I’ve never seen her like this, fighting back a yawn every few moments and staring at the same page in her notebook for an hour at a time.

Her mother is still missing. Every search for the nobles who vanished on the night of Hadrien’s party has ended the same way. There’s no sign of what happened to any of them, though everyone agrees they were dressed for the celebration when they disappeared. All King Wylding has done is increase security. Even Valoria and I are out of ideas as to where to look or who would’ve kidnapped a random assortment of Dead nobles and dignitaries without demanding a ransom.

“Here,” she says suddenly, holding out a torn page from her notebook. Her voice quivers slightly. “So you can see him whenever you like.”

I struggle to form words as I run my fingers delicately over the page, careful not to smudge the likeness of Evander grinning up at me. She even remembered the little scar above his eyebrow. “This is incredible, Valoria. Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Valoria insists, her cheeks coloring. But we both know that’s not true.

By the time I finish tacking the drawing on the wall above my bed, the princess is already immersed in another work of art. Waving doesn’t get her attention, so I cross to her chair by the window. She doesn’t seem to notice until I lean forward, blocking the light.

Gasping, she closes the notebook with a snap.

But not before I see the painstakingly detailed illustration on the back page.

“That’s a very handsome drawing.” I try and fail to hide a grin as I plop down on the rug by her feet. “Jax will be thrilled when you show him.”

Valoria shakes her head, her face turning tomato red. “I’m not going to show him,” she squeaks. “I just—I draw people whenever I need a break from my work.”

“Oh? Who else?” I make a grab for the notebook. I know it’s not nice, and I know she only locked me in here for the past six days for my own good, but I can’t resist the urge. I want to see her squirm a little. “Come on,” I beg as Valoria clutches the notebook to her chest. “We’re friends. You can show me!”

The princess purses her lips and grips the notebook tighter than ever. “Try to touch this book again, and I’ll feed it to Lysander. I swear I will.”

“Fine. Fine.” I hold up my hands, wincing as something tightens in my chest. “But when it comes to Jax, there are a few things you’ll want to know. Ask him what his tattoos mean. All twelve of them.” Valoria opens her mouth to say something, but I continue softly, “Ask him about how he believes he’s going to die, all because of some dream about ice. Ask him why he’s afraid of the sea. Cook him the spiciest dish you can find, and when he starts to panic that you’re getting under his skin, be patient with him.”

“Odessa,” Valoria says slowly, the color fading from her cheeks, “how close are you and Jax, exactly?”

“He’s like a brother to me,” I say firmly as Meredy bursts into the room, bringing the scents of wood smoke, crisp leaves, and cider.

“Morning, all,” she says coolly.

“Meredy,” Valoria murmurs, trying to recover herself. “You’re just in time. I was about to see if Sparrow wanted a bath. Why don’t you accompany her—?”

The princess doesn’t even get her last words out as Meredy and I both say, “No!”

Valoria arches her brows, looking between us.

My face burns, though I’ve no idea why. Meredy gazes out the window, avoiding us both.

“Sparrow?” A call through the door breaks the heavy silence. The speaker sounds far away, like someone doesn’t want to get too close to Lysander. “Prince Hadrien requests your presence in the throne room.”

Meredy turns her intense eyes to the door. “Tell him she’ll come find him tomorrow, when she’s feeling completely better!” she shouts in answer.

“It’s an order,” the speaker says sternly. “All the necromancers are being summoned.” There’s a pause, a sigh, and then, “King Wylding is missing.”





XX




The guard who delivered Hadrien’s summons accompanies me down the hall to the throne room at the heart of the palace. He has a round, young face I don’t recognize, and perhaps his youth and inexperience are to blame for the way he keeps a hand on my forearm like I’m some common criminal being brought for sentencing.

Still, I’m not in the mood for this. Not after the past six days.

I twist out of his grasp. Startled, he mutters an apology that I ignore.

Valoria, Meredy, and Lysander follow a short distance behind us. I’m sure they’re wondering, like I am, how the king could vanish with all the extra guards stationed outside the palace’s every door. Even if he left on his own—which is about as unlikely as the Dead wanting to fly in an air balloon—someone would’ve seen him.