“About what?” I asked, and even though I was an adult living on my own, I still felt like a little kid about to be grounded for staying out too late.

“Well.” She took a deep breath and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ear, unmindful that she was getting flour in it, and her eyes were grim. “I know that Konstantin Black is the one causing all the trouble.”

I took half a step back from her and straightened my shoulders, preparing for a fight, but I waited until she’d said her piece before saying anything.

“I know that you have a job to do, but…” She pursed her lips. “He nearly took your father and you away from me already. I don’t want you messing around with him.”

“Mom, he barely hurt me before,” I tried to deflect her concern. “It was little more than a scratch, and I was just a kid then. I can handle him now. You don’t need to worry.”

“Bryn, you are my daughter, my only daughter.” She walked closer to me and put her hands on my shoulders. “I know how brave and strong you are, but I need to know that you’re safe. And I can’t know that if you’re chasing around after this madman.”

She put her hand to my cheek, forcing me to look up at her, and the aquamarine in her eyes was filled with pleading. “Bryn. Please. Promise you’ll stay away from him.”

“I’ll stay away from him if I can,” I told her honestly. “But I’m going to protect myself and this kingdom. I’ll do what I need to do, and that’s the best I can give you.”

Her shoulders slacked, but her hand lingered on my face. “Be safe. Don’t be reckless or brave. If you must go out after him, then come back safe.”

“I will,” I assured her, and she leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

“Okay.” She stepped back and smiled at me, trying to erase her earlier seriousness. “I need to finish with the pie. Go ahead and see your father.”

TWENTY-SIX

remnants

Dad sat at his desk, his head bowed over paperwork and his reading glasses resting precariously on the end of his nose. The only light came from a small lamp next to him, and it made the silver hair at his temples stand out more against the rest of his black hair.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Dad?” I asked, poking my head in his study.

“Bryn.” He smiled when he saw me, and pulled off his glasses. “Yeah, of course. Come in.”

I closed the door behind me, and then sat down in the chair across from his desk. The walls of his study were lined with shelves filled with old books and Kanin antiquities. On his desk, he used an old artifact—a rabbit carved out of stone—as a paperweight. I’d always felt that in another life, my dad would’ve made an excellent history professor.

“Is something wrong?” He leaned forward on the desk, and his brow furrowed in concern.

“Not exactly.” I crossed my legs and settled back in the chair. “But I need you to tell me about the day that Konstantin Black tried to kill you.”

“I’d be happy to tell you anything you want to know, but I don’t know how much there is to tell.” Dad shook his head. “I mean, you were there and witnessed most of it. What you didn’t witness, we’ve already talked about.”

And we had. Dad had been interviewed by multiple Högdragen and even the King himself, as they tried to get to the bottom of what had happened with Konstantin. Beyond that, Dad and I had talked about it after it had happened. I’d been just as confused as everyone else, if not more so.

“It’s been a long time, though. I need a refresher,” I said.

“All right.” Dad set his glasses aside on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “We were at the celebration that night, and everyone was there. Lots of people were drunk. We were all in good spirits about the Vittra King being killed. Konstantin was working, but I don’t even really remember seeing him. You probably had a better view of him than I did.”

I had had my eyes on Konstantin most of the night. While my duties were to stand at attention during formalities and help keep inebriated townsfolk from causing a ruckus, most of that really meant standing at the side of the room and watching. So my gaze frequently went to Konstantin, who smiled much more than a member of the Högdragen was supposed to.

That was honestly what I remembered most about him that night. Him standing proud and confident in his lush uniform, smiling and laughing with anyone who bumped into him as he stood by the King and Queen’s side. Konstantin had seemed like a man in good spirits—not like one plotting murder.

“I grew weary of the party, probably fairly early in the evening. At least by your standards. I am an old man, after all.” Dad offered a small smile to lighten the story. “I headed back to my office, where I worked on a letter to the Trylle. I fell asleep briefly at my desk, I believe, and I kept periodically peeking out so I could catch you before you left.”

“You were kind of stalking me that night?” I asked, raising a bemused eyebrow.

“You were only fifteen and it was your first night on the job, and there were far too many drunk idiots dancing around.” He shrugged. “I wanted to make sure it went okay for you.”

“Thank you.” I smiled, warmed by the thought of my dad watching out for me, whether I’d needed it or not.

“You’re very welcome,” Dad said. “And when you were done, Konstantin found us in the main hall, and that was the first time I’d spoken to him all night.”