Book 5: Missing Groom

Amval

I step out into the grim darkness of the courtyard and breathe in the wind. Out here, I can finally release my tight control on the air. Grandfather’s memorial chamber was so close, I nearly collapsed when Ingrid came to sit next to me.

Or perhaps that was simply because she smelled so painfully sweet, of violets and ink, and I wanted to bury my nose in the curve of her throat. Perhaps because I told her, she played music, and she asked to hear me as well. To play with me someday. I’ll have to brush up on the ney; it’s not my favorite instrument, just the one that will sound best with hers.

I hum the drinking song she played under my breath.

Instead of turning straight to the stable, as I should because a groom’s day starts earlier than a prince’s ever did, I circle the long way around. The southernmost point of Som Palace juts out toward the sea, a few windows sparkling like stars. Cirocco is still awake, pacing. He came to the stable