“What does that mean?”
He gives me his shoulder, sidling closer to Nia. “I shouldn’t even be speaking to you.”
Nia reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers. “Nolan, please.”
He stares for far too long at their connection before drawing away, putting distance between all of us, a small gap that feels as wide as The Divide.
Nia’s face falls at the slight, her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she watches Nolan grip the sword at his hip. “If the queen gets her way,” he says, “there will no longer be a bridge.”
“She can’t do that.”
“I assure you, she can.” He leaves us without another word, the sun glinting off his armor as he takes his place next to the other guards.
To remove the bridge would be damning all those innocent people to death. Maybe they could travel to one of the other villages along the canyon that have a similar arrangement with the Unseelie. Or maybe all the Seelie will follow suit and they’ll be cut off entirely.
This isn’t fair.
It isn’tright.
The Unseelie have done nothing wrong, and the queen wants to go back on their treaty. No doubt, she’ll convince everyone that this decision is solely to ensure the safety of those in Rosehill.
There is no hope of stopping this, unless…
“I need to speak to the king.” Perhaps he will be willing to show some compassion to Ever’s people.
Nia swipes at the tears running down her cheeks. “What makes you think he’ll grant you an audience?”
After what I did to his son, he probably won’t.
His son. That’s it! “Ronan.”
“He won’t help you.”
Probably not. He doesn’t seem like the forgiving type. Perhaps I can appeal to his softer side—assuming he even has one.
Nia swipes at her eyes with her fist. “Maybe if we make him believe that you want to speak with the king for some other reason?”
What other reason would I have to speak to the king? I am no one. He owes me nothing. We only met the one time, so he might not even remember me.
Her eyes narrow. “I can think of one, but you’re not going to like it.”
At this stage, I’ll do anything.
“If you were to apologize to Ronan for slighting him, convince him you’re interested in marrying?—”
“Absolutely not.” The thought of even pretending to enjoy Ronan’s company—his touch, hiskiss—makes it feel like there are spiders crawling over my skin.
“Do you want to save Everett or not?”
Of course I want to save him, but to pretend to court Ronan to make that happen? I’m not even sure I could be convincing.
Unfortunately, I cannot think of any alternative. “Where do you think he’ll be?”
“Either on his way to the Black Rose or already there.”
* * *
The Black Rose is as busy as I’ve ever seen it, with people everywhere smiling and laughing, not a care in the world, oblivious to the dire situation unfolding for their neighbors. My hands want to tighten into fists, but I force them to remain relaxed at my sides as I push through the revelry in search of a prince who may very well hold the fate of an entire village in his careless hands.