Flame in the Palace

25. Fire

Myria's eyes burn with tears, and she presses a hand over her mouth to stifle her heaving breathing. Outside the meeting room, she leans over the balcony railing, attempting to control her racing thoughts, the night breeze gently caressing her tear-stained face.

The minotaur is dead. The minotaur is dead, and she never even gave him a proper name. But she knows without a single doubt that Aryn killed him. For what? He could have threatened her without murdering the minotaur. And it was all her fault, leading the bastard right to the creature on the first night she had met him. She had no idea he would—

She scrubs at her face while her breathing evens out.

Aryn Stirling killed the minotaur, not because he had to but because he wanted to. He would attack her in a dark stairwell unprovoked; he was drawn to wanton violence like a moth to a flame.

A painful wail manages to escape her lips, and she covers her mouth again. She does not have time to grieve over the minotaur. She barely has time to consider the true purpose of that meeting—

Another smothered whimper escapes, barely muffled by her hands.

She has to marry Aryn Stirling. If she doesn't—

"Myria? Everyone is waiting—"

She whirls around to see Emiri approaching her. There is no hiding her tears, her despair. His eyebrows knit in concern, his steps slowing as he takes in her distraught state. Lowering her hands, she whispers, "I can't."

She attempts to move past him, but he catches both of her hands in his, turning slightly to hold her back, keeping her tethered to him. "What happened?"

The feel of his touch around her hands is a slight reprieve, a small comfort that alleviates the festering ache she feels ripping apart her chest. But her mind fumbles with the right words. "My mother—the Stirlings—" is all she manages to breathlessly hiccup into life.

He pulls her closer to him, his eyes peering into her face with worry as his thumbs rub soothing circles on her hands. "It's okay. You can tell me. We'll take care of it. I'm right here."

Myria runs the tip of her tongue over her chapped lips, swallowing. She opens her mouth to speak a second time when movement above Emiri's shoulder catches her eyes. She sees Aryn and his father exiting the room.

Myria's eyes meet Aryn's cold ones for a brief moment, creating a hollow ringing in her ears as she makes a sudden realization. The minotaur head was proof that Aryn had been to Talking Tree Forest, that he had been to the Morning Glory Tavern.

That he had seen her grandmother.

And he had used that connection as leverage for his threat. He was threatening the people she loved. And Myria knew he would not stop with the minotaur or with her grandmother.

He would threaten Emiri too.

She backs up suddenly, ripping her hands from Emiri's, hoping the others hadn't seen them. "I have to go," she tells Emiri instead, her voice stronger with a new purpose. She has to protect Emiri from Aryn, but right now, she needs to find her grandmother.

Emiri looks over his shoulder to see Geffrey approaching them, giving Myria enough time to make a run for it. She dashes for the stairwell, pulling off her shoes to run barefoot. She does not stop for a change of clothes, she does not wait to hear Leor's decision in the ballroom. She cannot stop for anything, heading straight for the stables. The sight of Merek feeding the horses treats from the kitchen is a small victory for her that evening.

"I need a horse!" Myria calls to him. "I need the fastest horse we have."

The panic and urgency in her voice push Merek into action without question. He quickly sets to work saddling a steed, and when he leads the horse to her, she recognizes Stefan, the noble creature who helped her at the joust.