pulled a face. Like Stellan, she was used to much finer fare, and heartily sick of turnips, which seemed to be the only vegetable Maralyce bothered to store in her larder. âIs that all thatâs on the menu, Lord Desean?â She rolled her eyes. âTides, and I was
so
hoping we could have turnips for dinner too.â
Stellan frowned. âYou should watch your language, young lady. It ill becomes a princess to speak like that.â
âDeclan says âTidesâ all the time.â
âDeclanâs not a princess.â
âGlad you noticed.â
Stellan jumped a little at Declan Hawkesâs unexpected reply. Nyah hadnât closed the door behind her, so heâd had no warning they were no longer alone. He certainly hadnât realised Declan was back from wherever it was heâd been.
âYouâve returned.â
âTwo piercing observations in as many minutes,â Declan said, sounding impressed. âPity you werenât so sharp a year ago when you met your new Kennel Master.â
Stellan gripped the handle of the vegetable knife a little tighter, and chose not to rise to the provocation, mostly because he knew the criticism wasnât undeserved.
Declan shut the door and turned back to the table, leaning forward to see what Stellan was chopping. âOh, look, turnips. Whoâd have thought?â
âYou didnât catch us anything edible then,â Stellan inquired, âwhile you were off in the woods, communing with nature?â
âNo.â
âYouâve been gone for days, Declan,â Nyah said. âDidnât you get hungry?â
âApparently I donât have to worry about starvation any longer.â
There was an odd note in Declanâs voice, something that spoke of barely contained anger; maybe even fear.
It put Stellanâs own woes into perspective. He was worried people thought him a fool; at worst that they might consider him a traitor. Declan Hawkes was having to contend with the unexpected and unwanted realisation that he was now a member of a very exclusive club that he not only despised, but had been actively working against for most of his adult life.
âDid you find anything?â he asked, although they both knew he didnât mean food. Declan was searching for answers, even more than Stellan was. His dilemma, in the general scheme of things, was far more traumatic.
âNo, but Iâve made a decision.â
âYouâre leaving.â Stellan didnât know how he knew that. He just did.
Declan nodded. âIâll do what you asked. Or part of it, at any rate. Iâll go to Torlenia and try to find Arkady.â
âAnd the part youâre
not
planning to do?â
âBring her back.â
Stellan nodded. He was neither surprised nor particularly disturbed to learn of Declanâs plans. He could offer his wife nothing now, except a life of hiding, as the world unravelled around them with the rising of the Tide.
Declan, on the other hand, was one of the rare few now, one of the power-brokers. The tables had turned completely. The duke sheâd married for protection was powerless and penniless, while the childhood friend without connections or wealth could now stride the halls of power with impunity. Declan had the power to protect Arkady.
And he loved herâwhether he was willing to admit it or not.
âYouâre not coming back?â Nyah understood what Declan was saying, even if she didnât pick up on the undercurrent running beneath the adultsâ words.
âIsnât much point really,â he told her, taking a seat at the table.
âBut what about me?â she asked. âI canât just stay here in the mountains until I die of old age.â
âI was thinking about that too.â Declan looked up at Stellan. âYou should take her home.â
âMe? Iâm a wanted man. And take her home to what, exactly? I thought
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