Luke looks… Well, I won’t lie and say he looks as good as he did yesterday. There are bruised bags under his eyes, and he’s as worn and hurt as anybody. More hurt than Alex, maybe, I can seek a bandage peeking out from where his collar gapes and another the edge of his sleeve.

But Luke looking a little less than impeccable is still looking pretty glorious.

“Aurelia,” Luke greets. He gives me a gentle King Arthur smile at me, and it kind of feels like I’m a sunflower basking in the direct light.¹Do I really have to explain what a King Arthur smile is? It’s like, very handsome and warm and kind, but also a little mysterious and world-weary, you know? Like the legend. Anyway, it’s a good smile.

It almost makes me forget that Luke also thinks I’m a failed mass murderer.

Luke turns back to his brother. “Why are you bickering down here rather than making your way back? Our parents have been waiting so long they sent me down.”

“Well, she didn’t make herself easy to find. How was I supposed to expect her to be in the chapel?” Alex mutters.

Luke flicks a glance at me, frowning.

Seriously, is it that weird Aurelia would be at the chapel? It’s just a night. Maybe I should’ve tried to go find and hide in the dungeons all by myself after all.

Luke visibly shakes off the fact as unimportant.

“Well,” he says, “You’re both here now.”

He turns more fully towards me. “I’m glad Alex was able to find you unharmed, Aurelia. We were uncertain yesterday what had become of you. My parents would like to speak to you.”

Alex's mouth twists in annoyance. “That’s what I was bringing her here to do. In another minute we would’ve been up there.”

“Shall we go now?” Luke says, moving so naturally right past Alex’s words that I suspect he must have had a lot of practice doing just that in the past.

Alex gives a too loud sigh. He turns and storms away, towards the staircase from which his brother came.

I hesitate. But with one brother behind me and one brother in front, there’s nothing else to do. I take a step forward—and am stopped by Luke’s light touch on my forearm.

“A moment if you could, Aurelia,” he says. He tilts me towards him with the gentlest of pressure. But it still makes my skin turn prickly and hot underneath his fingers, like I’m breaking out into hives or something.

“Oh. Uhm,” I say. “What is it?”

“Before my parents question you, I want to…” Luke trails off and meets my eyes.

God, why are Luke’s eyes so blue and soulful or whatever? When they’re focused on me like they are now, it’s like he’s staring straight into the heart of all my secrets.

“I want to tell you that your early warning about the attack helped saved a lot of people last night,” he says. “However you knew. Whatever you did to learn it. It doesn’t change that because of your warning, those who might’ve died are alive today. Perhaps even including me.”

Luke sounds so sincere too.

Should I be moved? Flattered? Nervous? Did he have to phrase those last two sentences like that though?

I swallow down the hysterical laughter at the tip of my tongue.

“Uh, no problem? Don’t mention it." I pause. "Like, really.”

“Are you two coming or what?” Alex yells impatiently.

I look over to see he's made it to the very top of the stairway, and is now leaning out from the railing to look back at us.

Luke takes a step back from me.

“We're coming,” Luke responds, with a small smile.

He turns and follows his brother up the steps, to where their parents presumably wait.

After a beat, I walk up the stairs too.

 

 

 

When I reach the top of the stairs, the space opens into a raised gallery that looks out into the long length of the great hall. At the far end of the balcony, two people stand leaning against the balustrade, observing the scene below and talking indistinctly.

They’re dressed sumptuously—enough that I don’t require any introductions to guess who they are.

And when they break off their conversation at the sound of our approach and turn towards us, my guess is all but confirmed.

Duke Magnus Silverwood has the same coloring and strong facial features as his sons. His hair, which he keeps long, falls from his shoulders in a silky curtain, the blond and silver strands interweaving and reflecting brilliant light.

His wife next to him, Duchess Valeria Silverwood, looks like how I pictured Snow White as a kid. Ornately-styled black hair frames large, deep-set eyes and creamy milk skin. Her sons might have most obviously taken after their dad, but I can still find traces of her in their features—their tall and lean builds, the shape of Luke’s eyes, Alex’s borderline too-pretty mouth.

Ugh. What is with the Silverwoods and their good genes.

It’s honestly kind of annoying.²I mean, they live in pseudo-medieval times, when we didn’t know anything about sunscreen or sleep or diet or a hundred other healthy habits. How’s it fair that they look like they do? That they still look like they do, at what, fifty years old plus? How is anyone supposed to be in a room with all four of them at once—like I am right now—and not feel like a total Oompa Loompa?

Luke stops just several steps in front and to the right of me. Alex flanks me on my other side.

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to feel intimidated or comforted by this positioning. Mostly I feel like a sardine sandwiched between two pieces of bread.

Luke clears his throat. “Mother, Father,” he says. “We’ve brought Aurelia Morrell.”

Duchess Silverwood looks at me with a placid expression. But the Duke stares down his aquiline nose, his nostrils flaring like he’s smelling durian.³Listen. I like durian as much as the next Viet-American girl—I can get down with its custardy texture and rich sweetness—, but you have to admit the smell is kind of an acquired taste. It’s okay. I think of it as the Southeast Asian equivalent of blue cheese.

The novel hadn’t said much about the relationship between Aurelia and Alex’s parents—on account of all three of them being dead when the novel starts—, but I hadn’t expected them to be… so cold to her?

I mean, she was one of the official wards of the Silverwoods and grew up playing with Alex, so they must be plenty acquainted. And the Duke & Duchess don’t have any reasons to dislike her. Sure, she’s a commoner, but she’s gorgeous and talented, and Alex’s the second son anyway. If her status had caused problems with his family, wouldn’t Alex Prime have mentioned it?

Maybe it’s just because of the situation and what they’d suspected I’d done? But Alex and Luke hadn’t reacted with disgust. Alex had been torn, and Luke kind, despite everything.

Do I actually smell?⁴Real talk, I definitely do look a mess and probably don’t smell any better, though I feel like I ought to get a pass this morning. I ran dozens of miles! And slept on the floor! And saved the Keep (sort of)! Or am I disrespecting them by not bowing or curtsying or something?

I’d remedy that last one now, except that I don’t know how to either curtsy or bow. And something tells me trying to execute some sort of half-curtsy-bow thing and falling on my face won’t do me any favors.

I settle instead for straightening my shoulders and standing taller. “Uh… Your Graces.”

“Aurelia Morrell.” Duke Silverwood’s deep voice reverberates across the distance. He nods, which must be a signal or something, because both his sons stride forward. There’s not much else for me to do but go with them.

We stop about six or seven feet apart from them. Nicely close and cozy. Great.

The Duke crosses his arms. That very strong, very negative sense of unease is back.

“My sons tell me that you had advanced knowledge of the attack,” he says. “They asked me to give you due consideration, for having helped protect the Keep by informing us.”

He looks over at his sons, then back. He grins, baring all his teeth, and oh, yup. He definitely doesn’t like me.

“If they hadn’t spoken out in your favor, you’d be chained up in the dungeons. Instead, here you are, with free use of your arms and legs, being politely questioned.”

Okay, I just want to note for the record that there wasn’t even a real question in there. I wish adults would stop pretending to be asking you when they’re really lecturing.

But of course, I do hear the implicit question. And the implicit threat.

“Right.” I say. Oh God, my heart is hammering out of my chest. “Well, you know—“

Come on, Gemma! You have a plan.Go through with it. You don’t actually want to make a visit a medieval dungeons. Word is people don’t make it out of there.

But do I really have a plan? Should I really go through it with?

It’s objectively a little far-fetched and a lot risky. What if they don’t buy it?

Ugh. Why did my mom have to be so mean whenever she caught me in a lie as a kid! Lying is a really important life skill! Maybe if she’d let me get some practice in, I’d be more equipped to handle this right now.

“Yes?” The Duke says. Somehow he manages to squeeze the feel of a threat into that single word.

Just get it out, Gemma. There’s no alternative.

I lick my lips, and start, “You’re right, I knew all about what was about to happen.”

The faces of the Duke and Duchess break into triumph.

“I saw Silverwood Keep fall in a vision,” I finish. “I’m a seer.”