“I...” His eyes flicked back to the torchier and narrowed. “Anything.”
I slurped more coffee and dragged myself to standing. “Amryssa?”
She stared down at the delicate creases spider-webbing her palms. “Do you ever wonder? What might come out if someone drew on you with a knife?”
I jolted. “What?”
“Everyone says it would be blood, but I think I’d spill brown earth and blades of grass, instead.”
I surveyed Amryssa’s place setting, then reached for the knife Miss Quist had included and whisked it out of reach. “Well, then. Why don’t we use our forks to slice our sausage this morning?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I shook my head. Even in the best of times, Olivian and his daughter didn’t boast the firmest grips on reality, but today, they’d ventured further afield than usual. But maybe food would speed their recovery. At the very least, it would help pad out Amryssa’s pitiful frame.
I filled two plates with eggs, sausage, and biscuits, then deposited one in front of Olivian and the other before my best friend.
She eyed the offering without enthusiasm. “I hope you’re eating, too, Harlowe. You must feel every bit as grim as I do.”
My lips crooked. Her kindness never failed, but the more I ate, the less there’d be for her. “Don’t worry about me.”
“But I do. Of course I do.”
“That’s not your job,” I said gently. “Just eat. Get your energy back.”
She smiled up at me, and I hovered, hesitant to sit back down. Standing over her like this felt...right, somehow. Like I could shield her from her father’s machinations, maybe even from the toxic marsh outside. Beyond the windows, thecypresses threw their noxious purple glow, visible even in the broad light of day.
“Take my biscuit, at least.” Amryssa transferred a pastry from her plate to mine. “Please?”
The doors opened.
My battered body snapped to attention. I braced for a panicked housemaid, but a group of strangers sauntered in, instead. And there stood not one, not two, butthreepeople I didn’t recognize. All of them very much alive.
Fuck.
My stomach hollowed out. On the right stood last night’s carriage driver, probably the largest man...well, ever. His size hinted at obscene strength, but a healthy layer of fat hid the specifics. His leather vest topped a white shirt that stretched against an impressive paunch, and his skin was as brown as Merron’s. But his eyes were darker, like chips of coal set beneath protruding brows. A thick lower lip jutted out in an underbite so severe I wondered how he managed to eat.
On the left stood the smallest—not a woman, as I’d guessed, but a fox-faced man with an orange ponytail and a frame nearly as spare as Amryssa’s. His attire mirrored the giant’s, but with the addition of a shortsword at his side.
So Kyven’s attendants had lived. And as for the prince...
My heartbeat spiked, bullying its way up my throat. The third man stood at ease, looking every inch the royal, his snowy shirtsleeves billowing from a green-and-gold waistcoat. Glossy red-brown hair swept over his forehead, setting off angular features and a narrow jaw. Blocky brows made a dramatic frame for his eyes, and...goddess, those eyes. I’d never seen anything like them. They were of the lightest possible blue, like the palest slice of sky in the coldest hour of dawn.
His gaze connected with mine.
My blood lurched, the feeling akin to taking an arrow in the chest. Prince Kyven was the most striking man I’d ever seen, and I hated him immediately.
“Isthiswhere that delectable aroma is coming from?” His voice was smooth, his vowels round with the musicality of someone born and bred in the capital. Such pretty camouflage to hide the viper beneath. “It seems we’ve tracked down breakfast at last, boys.”
“But you...died.” The accusation plummeted from my lips. Over in the corner, a grandfather clock ticked, trying and failing to chip away at my disbelief. “Last night.”
“Did I?” The prince rolled his shoulders, his expression distinctly amused. “In that case, I can’t imagine why everyone makes such a fuss about this whole mortality business. I’ve never felt better.”
The coffee in my belly curdled. “But...How?Isawyou last night, in the drive. You never could’ve gotten inside in time.” Shit, I shouldn’t admit that in front of Olivian, but what did it matter now?
One corner of the prince’s lips lifted. Goddess, what a stupid smile. Its lopsidedness made me want to hurl my dagger across the table. Tack up the other half of his mouth with my blade, just to make it match.
“It was an interesting night, I’ll give you that. Yet here I am. Prince Kyven Windermere, of Hightower, at your service.” He sketched a bow, then scanned the room with those sickeningly pale eyes, clearly expecting introductions.
