Nevan
The King looked at me for a long moment. He didn't say the name. He didn't need to. His gaze carried the answer as clearly as if he'd spoken it aloud, and the answer led back to a man with silver hair and a charcoal coat and a daughter who sat in the highest chair in the great hall.
"I've delayed it," the King said. "I have that authority, again just like before. I've told the council that the new season should proceed without the shadow of an investigation hanging over one of its principal families. But I can only hold them for so long."
He placed a hand on my shoulder. "You have until the end of the season, Nevan. Whatever is happening on your lands, whatever happened to those women, I need you to have answers before the council convenes again. Because if you don't, I won't be able to protect you."
He squeezed my shoulder once, firmly, and released it.
"Enjoy the season," he said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll see you at the brunch."
