Okay, I know y'all are confused and wondering WHERE I'M GOING WITH THIS ... but please, bear with me. If it's the omg-action you're looking for, it's coming, but it's going to take a few chapters. In the meantime, take a deep breath, and focus on learning all about Ianna, which is what all this lame political stuff is about.
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For the first time in days, Aedaan was asleep; there was nothing that required his immediate attention, and the bulk of his servants were gone, rendering the palace an oddly quiet place. He hadn’t moved from his throne; his head was drooped over one hand, his body curled awkwardly against the stone edges of the chair.
He was dreaming about peace—about a land in which he and the Talon king ruled together, with kindness and joy, watching their joined lands flourishing beneath their hands. As soon as this image assaulted him, he felt a cool hand at his brow, pushing aside a stray lock of hair that had escape the confinements of his crown; his eyes flew open, looking up at Ianna, and as soon as he recognized her, his muscles relaxed and a smile flitted across his features.
"Ianna," he said softly, straightening slowly as muscles left too long in an uncomfortable position protested. "To what do I owe this honor?"
"Another J’engar-ai," Ianna breathed, as Aedaan moved over enough so that she could sink down beside him. Should anyone find them, Ianna could be hung for the insolence of sitting on a throne when it was not her own—but she and Aedaan were close, much closer than anyone truly realized. "Is it true, Aedaan?"
Aedaan nodded peacefully. "Or so he says—but he has your family’s Talent, and the same honor-bound sensitivities."
Ianna grabbed Aedaan’s elbow, her cheeks flushed. "Think of it, cousin—this will not be J’engar-ai’s last breath!"
"I did not believe this was J’engar-ai’s last breath in any case," Aedaan replied, flashing her an impish smile. "You would not allow it to fade away, whatever your current thoughts on the subject."
"Hush," Ianna chuckled, nudging him with her shoulder. "Is he here, now?"
Aedaan nodded. "He’s in the sorcerer’s corridor. He’ll be the—"
"Don’t tell me," Ianna said sharply, biting her bottom lip in anticipation. "If he is truly of J’engar-ai blood, I will know." She rose from her position on the throne, stooping briefly to drop a kiss on her cousin’s forehead, then vanished, with nary a sound to tell of her departure. Aedaan stretched, yawning, and made for his bed; he was asleep before he hit the pillow, as he always was when his favorite cousin paid him a midnight visit. When his servants found him in the morning, he was smiling sweetly, a pillow held tightly in his grasp.
