“We’re not seeing the king?” she asked, hoping the hitch in her voice wasn’t as obvious to them as it was to her. Jaeros’s faltering smile told her she was not so lucky.

“I assumed both of you would want to wash up and rest before meeting anyone, Dedryn included. Tomorrow is as good a day as any.”

She nearly sagged in Jaren’s arms with relief. She didn’t want to think about any of that yet. The thought of meeting her father, and everything it would entail, was just too much right now. After two days on a horse, a hot, soothing bath sounded way better. Although, with what happened the last time she’d taken one, maybe not.

“We’re not staying under your roof.”

She twisted at Jaren’s clipped words, about to lash out about him speaking for her again, but he squeezed her hip, staring at her unapologetically. “That’s a hard line for me, Veralie. I won’t stay there.”

She snapped her mouth shut, reading the emotion in his gaze and the way his heart beat steadily with hers. She didn’t want to stay at another grimy inn, but it wasn’t just about her. “Okay,” she said, turning to settle back against his chest.

“Good thing I didn’t invite you,” Jaeros huffed. “I’m accompanying you to the guest wing of the palace. It’s used for Magyki who’ve been approved an audience with the king.”

That news surprised her. The palace had guest rooms specifically to house citizens who wished to speak to their king? “They allow anyone who requests an audience to stay there?”

Jaeros cleared his throat, shooting her a quick glance. “Well, no, not just anyone.” He didn’t say more, and he didn’t need to. Nobility could stay comfortably and request an audience with the king. All while the rest of their people fought for space out on the streets. Figures.

Why was it that people in power were only ever willing to listen to the voices of those who didn’t need their help? Apparently Sulian and Vesstan were more alike than either wanted to admit. Both doing the bare minimum to keep their citizens’ mouths above water, while the wealthy stood on stable bridges ten feet above the surface. But hey, as long as no one was actually drowning, it was fine, right?

“We don’t exactly look like nobility,” she said, gesturing to herself and Jaren. She was still wearing his two-day old, oversized tunic over travel leggings, while he looked like an alley dweller with his unkempt scruff and shaggy hair. “Something tells me we won’t be welcome.”

But Jaeros waved her off, leading his mare ahead of them as they continued their trek through the city. “The guards and staff will take my word for it, and Dedryn and I will meet you in the morning before anyone else sees you.”

“Is that okay?” she whispered, tilting her head to the side and tapping her fingers over Jaren’s. She expected him to argue, but he just buried his nose in her hair and grunted, like he had no more shits to give at that point. She’d take that as a yes.