My nurse scoffs. “Nonsense. He’ll never accept such a slothful alibi! I’ll ask you once more to get up. Should you refuse, I’ll be forced to resort to dire measures.”

I lift a vexed brow. “Just how dire?”

Nurse Lydia swats at my legs. Her thick, blond braid swinging in effort. “Get up! Get up from this bed at once!”

A laugh rolls up from deep within me as I throw both palms in the air in surrender. I should’ve known better than to think she’d give up easily. More of a parent than a handmaiden to me, she never cowers before my stubbornness. I sigh and admit defeat. Despite my best efforts, I’m up before the sun. As my eyes adjust to the sconce’s flickering candle, the weight of her message sinks in.

My father has never called a meeting this early, not even with his most loyal retainers. A wave of unease ripples through my gut.

My father has never called a meeting with me.

As I ascend the spiral staircase in the north spire, worry almost cripples my steps. My mind races to find any matter that requires my presence, at this hour, in the oratory. I come up short. So, I prepare for the worst and mumble a silent prayer to the gods. I approach the ornate wooden door framed in golden stone. Two sentries bow and open the door. One last deep breath and I cross the threshold.

My father, the King of Verdana, stands silently at the altar, his head lowered as he prays to the statues of the Lady and the Guard looming above him. I stop halfway up the aisle and lift my chin.

“Father,” I announce myself as solemnly as I can manage. “You called for me?”

A long moment of thick silence fills the space between us, and then he slowly lifts his face to the statues. “Yes, I have news. Something that requires your immediate attendance. Pray, forgive me for disturbing your sleep.”

“It must be of grave importance then,” I say, hiding the fear that threatens to glide off my tongue. “For you, above all, know how important my sleep is to me.”

He huffs a laugh of sorts, then faces me. “Just like your mother,” he says. He meets my gaze and half smiles.

I muster a weak grin, still mentally preparing myself for whatever harrowing news he’s about to announce.

He pivots and reaches for a packet, its crimson wax seal already broken. Red. Then it’s from Aeradian, the Deep Kingdom.

I’m unsure of what a message from that court could mean. Last year Aeradian’s king died in a hunting accident. We’d certainly been expected to attend his funeral. But with most of our army protecting the river, our vital trading route, it would’ve been almost impossible and irresponsible to gather enough men to protect us adequately. My father had decided it was not worth the risk. Despite that grim reason for a journey, I’d been excited at the prospect of leaving Verdana.