Free King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) by Jordan Rivet Page A

he didn’t escort her all the way to the castle exit. Despite their surroundings, the evening hadn’t been especially amorous. Siv didn’t think it would help his case to offer a midnight stroll or a good night kiss. He had officially put in his bid for Lady Tull’s hand, and it was up to her to choose.
    Siv paced around the parlor, considering what Lady Tull had said about the Rollendars. It shouldn’t surprise him that Bolden had already proposed, that sneaking povvercat. He was more worried that House Rollendar had reached such heights that it both rivaled House Amintelle and threatened Denmore and Ferrington. The nobles must truly see him as a child, barely more equipped to rule the kingdom than the teenage princesses. Did the common people feel the same way? He had to do something about the perception of his house—and himself—soon.
    The moon rose outside the glass wall, filling the parlor with muted light. Siv poured more wine into his goblet. His head spun, but he gulped it down anyway. He missed the days when he could carouse until dawn with nothing more than a hangover to worry about the next day. Dara was out there investigating nefarious weapons makers, and he was trapped in the tower making business-like marriage proposals. As he had long suspected, being king wasn’t much fun at all.
    Dara would probably be heading down to meet Berg right about now. There were hours yet before Siv would know what was going on. The restlessness plaguing him rose suddenly, like a true dragon rearing its head to spurt flame.
    He didn’t want to be stuck in the castle. He had done his kingly duty for the night. He had officially asked for the hand of a suitable noble lady. Couldn’t he get away with even the tiniest bit of excitement?
    He poured the last of the wine into his goblet and tossed it back. There was still time. As long as he evaded Pool, there was a chance he could make it to Square Peak before Dara disappeared into the night with Berg.
     
    Sneaking out was surprisingly easy. A steep access tunnel beneath the castle allowed the cooks to bring in food supplies for the kitchens without using the sheer steps leading to the main gates. A pulley system had been installed years ago to reduce the amount of manual labor this required, and the older tunnel had been sealed off. Or at least, it had been sealed until Siv had figured out a way to open it. He had used it often for pranks in his childhood—and more recently when he snuck out to watch Dara’s duel on Fell Bridge with Vine Silltine.
    Getting to the kitchens without arousing suspicion proved easier now that he was the king than it had been for him as the heir-prince. A secret stairwell connected the king’s chamber directly to the kitchens, so he didn’t have to worry about getting caught in the main corridors.
    He retired to his rooms and told Pool he was going to bed. While Pool very diligently guarded the outer doors to his chamber, Siv slipped down to the kitchen through the musty darkness of the secret stairs. If Pool tried to check on him he could always say he wanted a midnight snack. He was pretty sure that was the main reason his father had used the stairs. As long as Pool didn’t realize he was out of the castle, he’d be all right.
    He still wore his sword, which he’d buckled on before dinner. He cut a dashing figure with it, and he was sure Tull had been impressed. He also grabbed a knife from the kitchens for good measure. He wasn’t planning to get in a fight, exactly, but he wanted to be prepared. Dara had looked out for him often enough, and he couldn’t shake the sneaking feeling that she wasn’t entirely safe with Berg.
    A simple brown cloak hung on a hook in the kitchen, left behind by one of the cooks. Siv pulled this on over his ornate blue coat. He was taller than average and rather recognizable, but no one would expect the king to traipse through Square Peak in the middle of the night. With any luck, he would go completely