Jonas~~

"How do you take your tea?" Preeminence Tomen pours a steaming stream of clear water into Iris's teacup where dried leaves and flowers wait. From the way her eyes crinkle, I know she isn't sure how to answer him. After all, she and I know there is nothing at this table that can be added that will make her like the tea she's about to drink. Iris likes her tea as red as can be, and if there aren't at least four sugar cubes dissolving in it she'll make a face. To be clear, she'd still drink it, but she wouldn't like it, at which point, if he were present, Eli would lean over and ask if she just wanted juice.

Meanwhile, I'm content with enjoying the cleanliness of the hot water with the barest earthy hint of the shriveled leaves coming through. There's nothing quite like it.

You mean rainwater? I can almost hear Iris ask in my head.

"I'm easy to please, Preeminence," she says to Tomen. "However you like it shall be fine with me."

As Tomen looks down to retrieve a sugar cube, I make a face at Iris. She kicks me under the table. At my wince, Brielle stifles a laugh.

Gossip breezes around the tearoom alongside the clinking of ceramic dishes. Lush white wisteria hangs from the ceiling and frames the window where our table overlooks the chasm between two of the mountains the city is built on. Though we're in the sun's shadow, the tearoom's lighting feels natural, as if we were in a glen in the afternoon.

Preeminence Tomen's Order has yet to arrive. I didn't mesh well with them last time I was on Amoria. But I'm finding that I don't mind Tomen's company at all. He reminds me a bit of Brydan. I didn't think that my wedding might be the last time I got to see him.

I let out a slow breath, careful to not let Tomen or Brielle notice. Sebastian would scold me for missing Brydan. He has yet to forgive him for going behind my back with Colton and Erik. And at this point Sebastian probably never will.

Tomen finishes with Iris's tea and moves onto pouring mine as I try to sort out why my chest aches. Not everyone will get along. Isn't that something I know well?

"Is tea very popular in Elleany?" Brielle asks Iris.

"It's—not really." Iris plucks a small cake drizzled in harden berry syrup the color of a wilting red rose. "Before I met Jonas, I'd only had it a few times."

Brielle shakes her head. "I can't imagine anything that makes me feel as good as a warm cup of tea."

I can't see whatever look Tomen gives her, but it causes her cheeks to flush the same color as the cake's syrup.

Tomen, a Preeminence—not just like me, even if my title weren't hanging in the balance. Why is that if an Order member of Amoria wants something they only need the Head Order's permission? They rarely must consult the other Orders, and they never have to consult Elleany.

And though Rydersin is having to gain the votes of more than just the Head Order, she is not an Order member—yet. And Elleany will not be one of the Orders whose vote she needs.

What would happen if we stopped going to them for permission? Would they remove us from power?

I raise my cup to my lips, hoping neither Tomen nor Brielle can sense my wavering focus.

Borilia would remove us from power without hesitation. They did it to me.

But I was one person. Could they do it to all twelve of us? And if they tried, how far would they go? War? It'd expose their brethren on Earth.

I'm jolted from my thoughts as Iris's teacup clatters against her saucer, her green eyes fixed on a spot behind me, her body tensed, coiled as if ready to spring to her feet at the snap of a finger.

Turning, I lower my cup and nearly drop it to theONLYONWATTPADBENDERfloor.

Elisana makes her way across the tearoom, lavender dress tightened in her hands to keep it from dragging in front of her.

I suck in a sharp breath. Colton was right.

I start to stand, hand going for the gun tucked in the back of my waistband, but in a dark blur, a figure slams into Elisana, forcing her down onto an occupied table only three from ours. Dishes clang, toppling over the side and shattering as they hit the ground. Gasps resound through the tearoom, and the four poor souls unlucky enough to find themselves at the table Elisana lies sprawled upon, scramble to their feet.

The figure leaning over her wears a black mask that covers the lower half of his face. The rest of him is clothed in a Veil's uniform in black, and I smile at the sight of him.

Tomen and Brielle stand, but Iris remains seated as I sink back into mine.

Elisana struggles to no avail. The man keeps her pinned, the lines of his muscles evident through the sleeves of his shirt.

"Left without saying goodbye?" He clucks his tongue. "That's cold, love."

Elisana stills her efforts to break free. "Percy?"

Though I know the rest of the room won't, I return to my tea as Percy, straightening, yanks Elisana by the front of her dress to her feet.

"I—I don't understand. You were in Acquaellia."

"And you were supposed to be on your way to Borilia. Making a pit stop?"

"You don't understand. This isn't what it looks like."

Percy cocks his head. "It isn't? You were told my cousin and his wife were on their way to Gadfrie. Or are you going to tell me you're here on business with Surielius?

Before she can answer, something flies past her, crashing into the window behind Iris's head. My heart stutters as I shoot to my feet, but though the glass spiders in a small web, Iris herself seems unharmed. The pieces of what hit the window match the teacup saucers.

Whirling, my hand again goes for my gun.

There. At the entrance of the tearoom is him, the man who attacked us in our sleep. In the light, there's no mistaking it. He's garbed similar to Percy, though his black attire bears no insignia of a Veil. A mask covers the lower part of his face concealing his identity from any who might know him, and I am certain there will be pictures of this shared across Amoria in a matter of minutes. What stands out about the man though is his hair. A bright unnatural shade of red.

He grabs a saucer from the table beside him and hurls it our way with such perfect grace that it looks wrong—unnatural. I shove Tomen to the ground as Iris pushes Brielle down.

Through the legs of the table, I meet Iris's eyes, and in them I can read her thoughts: it's one thing to fight in a room filled with your enemies; it's another to fight in a room crowded with those who have never harmed you.

As Iris's reaches for the knife strapped to her thigh under her dress, I stand, but the man is gone and so is Percy. Elisana, like the rest of the room, is crouched on the ground, not certain the danger has passed.

My cousin must have gone after him. He'll be fine.

I think.

I help Tomen to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Am I all right?" He scoffs. "Blackwood, it wasn't me he was after."

Iris walks past us, her cream-colored dress dragging in spilled tea, dying the fabric in oranges and light pinks. She yanks Elisana to her feet, baring her teeth. "You're going to tell me everything."

"I—this wasn't me."

Iris's fingers curl into Elisana's dress, likely digging into her chest. "Then why are you here? Not for Percy. Not when you didn't think he'd be here."

Elisana tries to step back, but Iris tightens her grip.

"If you think I can't get it out of you, I assure you I've only been trained by the best."

I can't imagine Iris torturing someone but I'm not sure I'd be opposed to the idea.

"Iris." Percy stalks across the room. "I'll take her." Drawing back, Iris continues to hover near them as he grabs hold of Elisana's arm. He looks at me. "I lost the assassin. I'm sorry. He was . . . he was too fast."

I come alongside Iris, scanning her for injuries.

"I'm fine," she says, but she sounds shaken.

Tomen, Brielle on his heels, steps in front of Elisana, held tilting to the side as if he were a hawk observing potential prey. "You look familiar."

She dips into whatever curtsy she can manage with Percy gripping her arm. "Elisana Moretti, Preeminence, daughter of the Tresais of Borilia."

Throughout the tearoom, the guests begin to climb to their feet, all of them openly staring at us.

"And do you wish to harm my guests?" Tomen asks.

Elisana blanches. "No. My father sent me here on business. To speak with you actually."

A muscle in Percy's jaw ticks. "I'm sure."

Tomen turns to him. "And who are you?"

"The Iota of Elleany."

Tomen brow wrinkles and I quickly step in:

"With the threat to our lives, we wanted backup but didn't want our enemies expecting him."

Tomen works his jaw before his eyes settle on Elisana. "Until your claims can be verified, you'll be closely guarded. I presume that's acceptable."

She bows her head. "Yes, Preeminence."

He waves his hand. "Release her, Iota."

Percy looks to me, and though I disagree with Tomen, I give Percy a subtle nod, and he obeys.

*****

When I exit the bathroom in mine and Iris's room, Percy sits at the small table. With no windows present, the room is filled with paintings, metallic and shimmery. Behind me, the shower flicks on, and I shut the door, giving Iris privacy.

"Thanks for agreeing to speak here." I pull out the seat across from him and collapse in it. "I know it isn't ideal."

Percy shrugs. "You don't want to leave her. I get it."

"He almost hit her, Percy."

He looks down at his lap. "I feel as if it's my fault."

I sit up. "How could you think that?"

"I was focused on Elisana. I should have known—"

"None of us knew."

"But then I should have been able to catch him."

I rub my face. I could desperately use a drink, but I can't risk hindering any of my senses. Not when our threat is in the same city as us. "You did all you could in the moment. When you ran after him, did you happen to see anything?"

Percy shakes his head. "He was already too far away." He slumps in his seat, throwing his head back. "The Olympics are still on, right?"

Despite this afternoon, his question causes my lips to curve up. "I told Eli to start the process before I left the Estate." I needed to set it in motion in the case I don't make it back home.

For a few minutes, neither of us speak, the only sound that of the shower.

If he had managed to hit Iris, a blow like that to the head could have killed her—if it had become lodged . . .

I feel the sudden need to possibly heave up everything I ate for dinner, but with Iris in the bathroom that isn't a current option. I need to get myself under control.

Percy fixes his eyes on the grooves in the wood of the table. "Do you believe Elisana?"

"No."

His throat bobs. Whatever message Elisana delivered to Tomen, it convinced him that her reasons for being here are legitimate.

"I'm sorry."

He lays his palm flat on the table and stares at it. "I don't believe her either. And I want to."

"I know."

He looks up and the sorrow in his eyes hits me as if he punched me in the gut. I can't recall a time I've ever seen Percy visibly sad.

"Thank you for coming with us."

He shrugs. "What are cousins for?" Standing, he claps me on the back. "I'll sleep once the two of you wake up."

"Thank you. Truly."

He bows, and though his eyes when he rises are solemn, by the time he reaches the door, a bit of mirth has seeped into them. "Can you imagine what our Order would do if I let you die on my watch? I'd never hear the end of it."

I huff out a laugh. "Goodnight, Iota."

He nods. "Jonas." And then he's out the door.

*****

It's a quarter of an hour later that I again step out of the bathroom. This time my hair is wet, and I've wrapped a towel around my waist. Iris perches on the vanity stool, brushing through her hair that she's dried in the time since I entered the shower. She meets my eyes through the mirror.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, taking the brush from her. My fingers sweep along the back of her neck as I gather her hair into my palm and begin brushing through it. Her eyes drift shut.

"Anxious."

"And you really aren't hurt?" I sweep her hair to the side, revealing the ear the saucer flew past, and examine it for cuts. I relax when I see none.

"Just the scratches on my hands. Nothing's magically appeared since you checked the first time."

"Can you blame me for worrying?"

"Jonas." She places her hand on my cheek. "I want to take your worries from you, not add to them."

I lean down, brushing my lips against hers. "I knew there would never be a day I didn't worry when I married someone like me."

Her lips turn down, her eyes holding mine. "Are you afraid?"

"Terribly." I press my lips to hers, and as she runs her hand up my chest, her brush slips through my fingers. I pull her from the stool, pressing her against me, the silk of her dress soft against my bare skin.

I'm afraid.

I tangle my fingers in her hair, cradling her face.

I'm afraid to lose her.

She hums against my lips before I feel her smile, and I drag out the kiss as if that itself could slow down time, could make us immortal.

I'm afraid to die.

I pull away. "I—I should get dressed."

She tilts her head, studying me.

"Percy's standing . . . sentinel"—I flick my eyes to the door—"tonight."

She drags one lingering hand down my chest before stepping away. "I imagine that means he wants us to wake early so he can sleep."

I nod. "You would be correct."

"You think Erik's realized by now Percy's with us?"

"If he hasn't, I'd be worried."

Once we're both in bed though, neither of us is able to fall asleep.

And I've been trying. I've stared at the dark void of the ceiling, counting backwards from 1000, starting over at least ten times. But every time my mind wanders off to this afternoon.

I roll onto my side, wrapping my arm over Iris and pulling her against me. I breathe in the honey scent of her shampoo, feel her body raising and lowering under my arm with each breath. She snuggles into me, letting out a heavy sigh.

There's nothing quite like the helplessness of sleep evading you, the minutes counting away while your brain replays every angle of an event, trying to find the flaw or the answer.

The door handle jiggles once, so lightly I almost miss it, but it causes us to both sit up, our hands reaching under our pillows.

Percy's standing guard. It has to be him. He's the one with the key. And there were no sounds of a disturbance. But has he really decided to play the part of a parent checking on their children in bed?

Despite my attempts at reassuring myself, I slip off the bed on the side that's far from the door, and Iris joins me.

The door opens, and in the sliver of light that floods in, the figure comes into focus. And it's him.

Our would-be death. 

Please listen to this different version of All I Ask of You. I've been listening to it on repeat.

https://youtu.be/Crs5A0Qu8wk