Faywyn, 3rd Moon, 15th Day, 1624 Symfora Telos

  The late afternoon sun bled red across the horizon, sinking lower with every passing moment. In the fading light, Iris stood by the window, her fingers idly toying with the edge of her veil. Her gaze remained fixed on a cluster of songbirds flitting through the tangled canopy of a wire tree, their bright feathers darting against the darkening sky. She refused to look to her right, where her mother, the Queen, sat silent and still. Iris could feel her mother’s disappointment like a weight in the room, heavy and suffocating. Even the maids lingered at the edges of the chamber, their presence reduced to shadows, too wary to break the tense quiet.

  Iris’s jaw tightened. She was indignant, though she dared not say it aloud. How was she to know that Levi would follow through on his threats? Or that his father would bow to his demands so readily? He’d tried to expel them—her, the Crown Princess, and her mother, the Queen. The sheer audacity of the man made her blood boil. Iris flicked a piece of lint out of the window, her lips pressed into a tight pout. If she’d known he’d dare, she would have ignored him entirely, treated him with the disdain he deserved.

  “Iris,” her mother’s voice came soft but firm, breaking the uneasy silence.

  “…Yes, Mother?”

  “You know what must be done, don’t you?”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Iris,” the Queen interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. “You will apologize for so tactlessly antagonizing the lord whose protection we rely upon.”

  Iris winced.

  “But—”

  “No buts,” the Queen said sharply. “When the young lord returns, you will find him and offer your apology. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Mother,” Iris muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Silence fell again, though it was no less oppressive than before. Iris turned back to the window, her hands gripping the sill as she stared out at the harbor. From this vantage, she could just make out the distant blur of a crowd gathered near the docks. They had come to see Levi’s latest prize—a captured vessel, The Codfather, moored just hours ago. Rumors had spread like wildfire through the streets: tales of how the young lord had outwitted the Lion and his forces, reducing Ricos Harbor to ash and ruin.

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  Levi was giving another speech now, no doubt boasting of his cunning and reassuring the townsfolk of his superiority. It would have been laughable, Iris thought bitterly, if it weren’t so infuriating. He had the audacity of a serpent and the charm of a fox. How could so many revere such a man? Could they not see him for the schemer he was?

  Her lips twisted into a scowl as she leaned against the windowsill, her thoughts racing. That conniving, manipulative, insufferable—

  “Iris.”

  The voice snapped her from her thoughts. She turned to see her mother rising from her seat, her movements graceful and deliberate. The Queen’s hands came to rest lightly on her daughter’s shoulders, her touch both reassuring and firm.

  “I’m sorry,” the Queen said softly, her gaze distant as she looked out at the setting sun.

  Guilt tugged at Iris’s chest. “Why don’t they see it?” she muttered. “He’s just like them—the scheming lords who plotted against Father.”

  “Of course, he is,” her mother replied with a chuckle. “That’s why they love him.”

  Iris blinked, confused. “What?”

  Her mother smiled faintly. “In times of peace, people seek kindness and benevolence in their rulers,” she explained. “But in times like these, such qualities are a liability. The people want cunning, ruthlessness, a hunger for vengeance. Only a ruler who can strike fear into the hearts of their enemies can offer the people a sense of security.”

  The meaning of her mother’s words began to dawn on Iris, and she recoiled. “Mother!”

  “You need him, Iris,” the Queen said, her voice calm but insistent. “For the sake of the kingdom. For your father’s sake.”

  “But—”

  “Do you remember the stories of King Leonard the First?” her mother asked, cutting her off.

  Iris frowned. “Of course. He quelled the southern rebellion and drove the Luscan raiders from the eastern coasts.”

  “And he did so with the aid of the Seawolf, Captain Tomas Lokrane,” the Queen continued. “But what your tutors may not have told you is that the King loathed the Seawolf. Detested him. Their enmity only grew after a scandal involving one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting. It was a scandal. A terrible one, I might add. Say what you may about tradition, customs and the civilised distaste for openly keeping mistresses, no man, talk less of a king, would tolerate another snooping around his harem.”

  Iris’s face twisted in disgust. “Great-grandfather kept mistresses?”

  “Frequently,” her mother said with a wry smile. “Your father may be the only king in our history to honour his queen, and for that, I am grateful. But the point is this: despite his hatred for the Seawolf, King Leonard valued what the man could offer. He used his talents to their fullest, no matter how much he despised the man himself. That’s the kind of forbearance you must learn if you wish to rule one day.”

  Iris turned her gaze back to the harbor, her expression troubled. The distant crowd was beginning to disperse, but her mind lingered on the young Lord.

  “If he survives the Lion,” her mother added gently, “he could prove to be your greatest ally. Swallow your pride, Iris. You would do well not to push him away.”