Page 74 of Given

But as I stared into the hearth, my thoughts were as chaotic as the dancing flames.

I left my body.

My brother wants me dead.

Compared to the shattering revelations I’d learned eavesdropping outside my body, the events at dinner seemed almost insignificant. But the knowledge Varick had pressed upon me made me think they were somehow intertwined.

The Prelate’s voice echoed in my head, snippets of his conversation with Rolund overlapping in my mind.

“This is the outcome we wanted. You put her in Laurent’s path, and he took the bait.”

“Stabbing him with the solstone will be enough. Laurent will brand her a spy and order her execution.”

“…you have a solemn duty to send those devils to the Fir where they belong.”

“The savior of the realm will be bound in blood and reborn from the Rift.”

It was the last that echoed the loudest, and it triggered a memory of Varick’s words as he’d held me on his lap. “I had to know if you could be bound.”

The flames in the hearth seared my eyes, that bound repeating over and over. Was I one of the “devils” the Prelate had spoken of? Was Varick?

And Rowena’s visit yesterday… Rolund had sent her. My brother wanted me to get caught with the solstone.

But did he, really? Crasor had done most of the talking last night. The few times Rolund had spoken, he’d sounded anguished. “If there was any other way…” I hadn’t imagined the plea in his voice when he said that.

And what of Rowena’s voice in my head? Her fear for her husband. Had I imagined that? I could have asked Varick about it, but that would have meant admitting she gave me the dagger. No matter which way I turned, more problems sprang up.

I looked at the basket next to the fireplace. The dagger was my most pressing, immediate problem. I had to get rid of it…but how? Every time I left my chamber, a guard was waiting. If I walked about the palace with a deadly blade in my pocket, I could end up in the Rift just like the Prelate wanted.

And Rowena was likely to end up there with me. Maybe I could dismiss her voice in my mind, but the fear in her eyes had been unmistakable.

I rubbed my temples with my fingertips, trying to ease the ache that had blossomed there as I lay tossing and turning in bed last night, images of the hallway outside my brother’s study parading through my head.

The thing was, I hadn’t actually seen Rolund and Crasor speak. For all I knew, the “farseeing” Varick spoke of was a dream brought on by the shock and stress of dinner. He’d spoken convincingly last night, but could I really trust him? He didn’t want me to marry Laurent. “I’ve known Laurent since before you were born. I’ve been fucking him since you were in diapers. You don’t have to reassure me that you’re not a threat, little girl.”

I’d had nightmares my whole life. What if last night was just another one?

But the voice I heard at the Rift was real. Rowena and the solstone were real. Varick’s voice in my head had been very real. “Yes, Princess. My father was a farseer.”

The father who tried to kill him.

I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the fire and the voices that threatened to overwhelm me. I didn’t know what to believe or whom to trust. I was alone.

Just like I’d always been. I should have been used to it. After so many years, I should have just accepted it. Acceptance meant survival. In Queen Amantha’s court, I’d made myself scarce. Under my brother’s rule, I’d kept my mouth shut. When he sent me over the Rift, I went because my king had ordered me to. All my life, I had done what was expected of me, even when it meant smothering my feelings and hiding my true nature.

I opened my eyes. What even was my true nature? I was so accustomed to fitting myself into the shapes other people cut out for me, I wasn’t sure I had one of my own.

The flames leapt.

My heart pounded.

I was done fitting. Hiding. Keeping quiet. Last night, Laurent had promised me answers. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he’d said. “No more secrets between us.”

It was time to see if the King of Nor Doru was a man of his word.

* * *

Ten minutes later, my newfound courage almost deserted me as I caught sight of the priests posted on either side of Laurent’s door. The robed men were an uncommon presence at court. According to the servants, they typically kept to the Sanctum. I was fine with that. On the few occasions I’d seen one, their blood-stained beards and black robes had sent shivers down my spine.

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