Page 76 of Sharpest Court

So just as I had once before, I returned the compass to my pocket.

I wouldn’t have to be its keeper for much longer.

I’d expected a war-torn landscape, crumbling at the edges. I’d expected an atmosphere singed with the aftertaste of ithoric fires. But as the sun spilled like honey into the horizon, the lantern-lit cliffs glittered like a glorious mirage above the clean white sands of Banarrat.

I’d strapped the compass in a little pouch at my thigh, because—in keeping with Banarrati fashion—my shimmering, deep amethyst dress slinked off every dip of my silhouette. The silk glided against my legs as our group drifted across the lantern-dotted sands toward the dozen figures of the welcoming committee.

A tall man stepped from the throng and Valeria murmured from beside me, “Holden.”

I startled. Though I knew the general was young, having recently ousted his predecessor during combat, I hadn’t imagined him to be this young—perhaps in his early twenties. A glossy sheet of chestnut hair rippled over his shoulders with every swaggering footfall, his scalloped black armor creating a fish-scale pattern across his broad chest. With clean-shaven, suntanned skin and long, slashing cheekbones, he possessed the air of a man who knew he was beautiful and wanted the world to know it, too.

I was internally arranging my courtier’s mask, prepared to meet his cold brutality with my own aloofness, when he opened his arms and called, beaming, “Welcome, my friends.”

“Holden.” Keil gave a charming smile and stepped into the general’s embrace. They smacked each other good-naturedly on the back, then peeled away. “How long has it been?”

Holden’s gaze slid toward Valeria’s slinky bronze dress, and he licked his lips into a deeper smile. “Long enough that I’d forgotten the extent of your sister’s loveliness.”

“Holden,” she said with a dazzling, if slightly tight, smile of her own.

“And what about our loveliness?” Lye asked from my left, his grin lopsided. “You’re making the rest of us feel very inadequate, Holden.”

A second voice answered, cool and scathing, “I doubt that’s a particularly unusual feeling for you, Moreau.”

The group straightened as another young man ambled forward, presenting a stark contrast to Holden. While the general was all solid armor and brutal bone structure, this man was floral in smell and impeccable in style, with a green brocade waistcoat streamlining his frilled shirt. As he stopped before us, a dark strand of his tied-back hair fell across his eyes.

Eyes so light in color, they almost appeared golden.

“Finbar,” Keil said, confirming my suspicions. This man was a prince of Ansora, Keil’s first cousin, and a Hollow.

Since Valeria’s first account, I’d learned that Hollow bloodlines were well-documented through generations, and specters had never emerged wherever the Hollow trait was present. Finbar was a prime example; though his father had been a Wielder, his mother’s blood meant he didn’t possess his cousins’ power.

Judging from his cold expression, he didn’t possess much love for them, either—probably due to their differing opinions of Rheya. While Keil and Valeria often worked in service to her, Finbar had worked with rebels against her, and had been exiled as punishment.

Finbar now turned toward Holden, frowning. “Let’s not linger in the open.”

I’d assumed he’d said so because of the war, but as Goren and Dashiel exchanged a meaningful glance, I wondered if something else was amiss.

Holden chuckled, dismissive. “Let us at least greet our guest of honor.” He turned to me, head bowed. “Lady Alissa, I presume.” He took my right hand, now covered by the white lace glove Rheya had given me, and kissed the fabric over my knuckles. “I’m honored to welcome you to our island. I admit, when the empress claimed that the future queen of Daradon would be joining the delegation from the mainland, I didn’t think she was serious.” His eyes lingered on the glove—representing my dedication to Erik—before he released me with a satisfied smile. “I’m delighted to discover that she was speaking the truth.”

I would lose control just sharing breakfast with him, Goren had once said in reference to Holden, painting an image of an overtly callous ruler. But as I considered the general now, I adopted the tone I’d used during Rose Season: charming, with a hint of challenge.

I knew exactly how to deal with a man who hid his true face behind a smile.

“And are you accustomed to doubting your empress’s claims, General?”

Holden raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching with amusement. He leaned toward me and whispered loudly, “I wouldn’t dare own up to it in the present company, Lady Alissa. Your acquaintances might consider it treason.”

“Holden,” Finbar warned, clearly unhappy with this topic. “We ought not to detain them with pleasantries.”

“Don’t worry, Fin.” Keil smirked. “Nobody would ever accuse you of being pleasant.”

Finbar pursed his lips, unamused. “Forgive my urgency, Lady Alissa. We recently experienced a breach in security and should therefore continue this away from open ground.”

“What kind of breach?” Goren demanded.

Holden shook his head. “Business later.” He clasped Keil’s shoulder and pulled him toward the cliffs. “I want to get some of the expensive wine into our guests before the courtiers drink it all.”

Finbar gave us a narrow glance before following the general.