Page 219 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
I pulled out the palaver book, sat down on the furs, and opened it for what felt like the millionth time today. Small wonder it hadn’t followed me down into the troll pit.
The pages remained stubbornly blank, no matter how hard I looked at them and pleaded with the gods to give me a sign.
Dax was alright.
He had to be.
I couldn’t live in a world where one of my cousins didn’t.
He must have delayed going into the castle. Dax did that sometimes–had a new mission that took precedence. He could afford to pick and choose what he did and when, and it was part of his charm.
Then again, infiltrating Aquila was just as important to me as it was for him.
So where was he?
A sudden shift in the air teased my senses.
“He’s alright,” Ryker’s voice echoed behind me only a moment later. “Veghearas are too stubborn to not be.”
I turned to him with a shaky smile. “I hope he’s just being Dax.”
Even as I said it, my mind rebelled.
Dax wouldn’t play like this.
But I had to believe or I’d go mad.
“Hungry?” he asked and took out a bundle of deer jerky.
I nodded, even as my stomach roiled. It was almost night. I owed him…something.
An apology, perhaps. An explanation, definitely.
“How’s the perimeter?” I asked as Ryker took one long step over the sled and sat down beside me, close enough that his warmth permeated through my thick coat, but not touching.
“Quiet.”
“Too quiet?”
He nodded grimly, nodding at the warriors gathering around the fire. “They want to do a ritual to ward off the evil spirits. We should join them.”
“We?”Ritual?
“My people expect their leaders to participate in their ceremonies, especially protective ones.” He turned to look at me with that bottomless gaze of his. Or maybe it just seemed that way to me, because I wanted to drown in it. “You don’t have to join if you don’t want to.”
Ryker ripped off a piece of jerky and handed it to me. I took great pleasure in ripping it with my teeth; it eased some of the hectic energy inside.
It bought me a few breaths to wrestle my thoughts into submission.
Grandpa Constantine had instilled in all of his Vegheara heirs the need to protect the people’s religious beliefs. We had churches and cathedrals that rang out every week and a Vegheara always had to be present.
Usually me.
It was always me, wasn’t it?
“I want to.” I swallowed deeply. “But will they accept me? I’m not their leader.”
“Yet,” he said with absolute certainty. “We’re getting married.”
