“Not to pamper my brother’s vanity,” Isa said with a saucy smile, “but no one of my sex has ever been impervious to Matteo’s charms, Nora included. She may not have flirted with him or accepted his advances, but her eyes followed him whenever they were in the same room.”
Xavier shook his head. “Because she is a warrior and he was her greatest threat!”
“Xav, I do not expect you to understand, nor do I expect you to accompany me,” Matteo said quietly. “But I am going to fight my way into Kaul and save Nora.”
His best friend sighed. “What about Sania? You are theking. Who will lead while you are gone?”
Matteo smiled. “Isa, of course.”
His sister touched the center of her chest. “Me?”
“But she is a woman,” Xavier scorned.
Isa punched his arm.
He held it and gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry. I only meant that Sania has always been led by a man. A king.”
Matteo began to fiddle with his knife again. “I think if we have learned anything from the Urkan princesses, it is that women are more than capable of leading. Elea had enough venom to control any court. And Nora had the strength and intimidation to win the respect and loyalty of all around her.”
His sister hung her head before shaking it back and forth. “But I am not like either of them.”
“No, Isa,” he admitted. “Your strength has always been in your ability to heal. And if our nation goes to war, it will need a great deal of healing afterward. . . . Despite what Father thought, I’ve always known you were meant to help lead our people.”
A smile slowly grew on her lips. “You really think I can be regent while you’re gone?”
“I know so.”
He had barely time to drop his knife before his little sister hurled herself into his arms. Chuckling, he squeezed her back tightly. He saw Xavier grimacing over her shoulder. Once he detangled himself from his sister, Matteo held out his hand. His best friend took it and shook it firmly.
“You’re a lunatic if you think I’m going to let you go to war with Kaul without me,” he said gruffly. “Someone has to watch your back.”
Matteo clapped Xavier on the shoulder. “And I will watch yours.”
9
ELEA
The laird’s bed was large and comfortable. Especially after spending nearly a week at sea. Stretching her arms and legs, Elea reveled for a moment in the luxury. The comfort. A castle was where she belonged.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she called, not bothering to even sit up.
The head cook, whose name Elea had learned was Mother Fanny Walsh, bustled into the room with a breakfast tray. She set it on the bedside table.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Elea said, sitting up. “But it smells wonderful!”
Mother Walsh did not smell wonderful; she smelled like worry—mint, with a hint of body odor.
“Is something wrong?”
“Three of the guards are missing this morning,” she said, “and three of the laird’s best horses.”
Elea sank back against the down-feather pillows. She hadn’t wanted to hurt her own people, but she should have done something about the guards. They could be halfway to the capital city by now.
Mother Walsh began to tidy the room, humming underneath her breath an old Urkan nursery rhyme.
Elea sat up and sang: