CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 55

AUREN

I’ve been practicing my magic.

This morning I was in the bedroom, plating the pillars, practicing making the gold reach up in swirling patterns and then sinking back into my skin. I’m getting better and better at it, and there’s some pride in that, which is something I’ve never been able to have when it came to my magic. It’s a quiet thing, soaking through my spirit and reinforcing the changes I’m trying to make, the confidence I’m trying to build.

After a couple hours, I decided to go outdoors to get some fresh air. I spotted the gardens from the roof, and now that I’m here, I think it might be my new favorite place. It’s protected by a high ashen wall on the east side of the castle, so it feels private, especially with the mountain standing watch just beyond.

There seems to be only one guard that passes by on his rounds about every thirty minutes. Even so, I’m careful, which is why I like this little spot, where I’m mostly obscured by the shrubs. Since the rumors about me stealing Midas’s gold are so fresh and rampant, the last thing I want to do is make a spectacle of myself or give anyone cause to fear me.

Plus, I like working out in the sunlight.

There are divots of glass stonework in the grass, like flat blue marbles bigger than my foot and spread a step apart. They trail from the doorway, past the first row of flowers, curve with the twisting turns around the bushes, and lead past the walls of shrubs all the way to the very center of the garden where there’s a fountain and a wrought iron bench.

Though the ironwork is pretty, the bench isn’t the most comfortable, so I sit on the grass instead. With my back against the base of the onyx fountain, I work with my gold, experimenting with different textures. I ball it up like dough, roll it around in my hand, and then liquefy the pliable sphere.

Slade’s been busy with his Premiers, with his Wrath, and with his army, so I’ve been trying to use all my spare time to work on my magic. Meanwhile, Digby has taken on helping me with the physical training part of it, since Judd has been busy and is set to leave on a mission for Slade. Digby doesn’t do anything physical since he’s still healing, but he instructs me on my stances, helps me run through strengthening drills, and has taught me a few blocks.

I haven’t even had Slade alone for more than a few minutes at a time since our ride in the carriage. I can’t truly comprehend even a sliver of the amount of responsibilities he has as a king, but I can tell that he handles things much differently than Midas.

The biggest difference for me personally though, is that he tells me all about what he’s doing. He keeps me involved. Answers my questions. Encourages them, even. It’s strange to get used to.

But tomorrow, he’s supposed to give Manu his final answer. Already, the mandatory rationing has been put into effect. Even here in the castle, where Digby and I have been sharing meals alone together, there’s smaller portions, simple ingredients. But even with these segmented servings, my stomach still churns with guilt, and I try to leave more behind to be saved.

Every night this past week, I’ve woken up in a cold sweat, my nightmares returned. Sometimes, the dreams are about the shanties, of the frozen poverty kept in the crooked cracks of Highbell.

Other times, it’s my ribbons.

The sound of the sword swinging down. The slice of agony as it tore through me, silken limb by silken limb. I dream about falling, without any ribbons to catch me.

But last night, my nightmare changed. It wasn’t Highbell I was seeing, but Brackhill. The same streets I rode down with Slade, except the people were crying. Bone-thin. Rabid with starvation. And Queen Kaila stood at the other end of the street, my voice caught around her like a babbling breeze that only she could control.

That dream stayed with me all throughout breakfast, turning my stomach sour. It stayed with me during training with Digby until he crossed his arms and told me we were done for the day because I was too distracted.

Now, it’s still clutching at me, tugging at my shoulders like an incessant beggar.

I feel like I need to do something, but Slade won’t hear of it. The few scraps of moments I’ve gotten with him are spent with his insistence that everything is going to be fine. That his plans will work and the rationing and extra food production will be effective.

But what if it’s not?

I press my fingers over the bracelet he gave me. It now shines solid gold, though I kept the black gemstone in the center and braided a chain of gilded pattern around it.

I lean my back against the fountain, listening to the soft trickle of the water. It’s calming comfort, as is the feel of the cool grass beneath my bare feet and the warmth on my scalp. If I could, I’d strip down naked, just so every inch of my skin could feel the kiss of the sun.

But that would probably be frowned upon.

I pluck a small flower from the grass and spin it between my fingers. It’s a purple blossom, the yellow center reminding me of the color of Judd’s hair. I draw up a tiny bit of gold, making it coat the greenery, delicately sinking into the veins of the leaves.

Dropping it, I lean back, letting my bare feet sink further into the grass. I feel my magic press against my arches and toes, wanting to come out. I let it slowly pool, the warmth of the gold competing with the coolness of the grass.

When I drag my feet back to spread the gold, I blink down between my feet, pausing. I lean closer to get a better look, brows falling together.

At first, I think I’m seeing a reflection or a speck of dirt, but I see that’s not the case. It reminds me of when a piece of bread has been left too long over a fire, its crust singed from the flames. There’s just one splotchy edge around my gold that’s darker than the rest, making it look charred.

Frowning, I dip my fingertip in it, watching the dark blot dip down, but then it just mixes with the rest, going away completely.

Strange.

Shifting over, I tuck my legs beneath me, hovering my palm over the spot of the gilt grass, calling the gold back to me. I rub my hands together and tilt my head up to the sun with a content sigh.

“Lady Auren?”

My eyes flash open and see Manu approaching. He’s dressed in a teal vest with a softer blue shirt beneath and a matching cravat, his long black hair loose around his shoulders. “It is good to see you in such an...informal setting,” he says as he looks down at my bare feet with a smile that lights up his whole face and reminds me of the Manu I met back in Ranhold.

I quickly snatch up my shoes, slipping them back onto my feet as I stand. “I didn’t expect to see you out here,” I say.

He looks around, his expression easy and open. “I found this garden the first day I arrived. It’s my favorite place here. I spend hours out here day and night,” he confesses. “The warmth has been a nice break from Fifth Kingdom. Though, not quite as warm as it is back home in Third. I have to say, I do miss the beach.”

That makes one of us.

Manu might be easygoing right now, but I’m on edge.

He must see it in the way I’m holding myself, because he lets out a small sigh. “Look, Doll, this business with the Conflux, it’s nothing personal. I like you. But monarchs have their own laws to follow, and when two die in one night...”

“You know I had nothing to do with Prince Niven,” I say. “That was Midas. He wanted to take over Fifth. He told me so himself.”

Manu’s face grows contemplative as he picks off a leaf from one of the taller shrubs and twirls it between his finger and thumb. “Then that’s exactly what you’ll say at the Conflux, if you choose to go.”

“Slade—King Ravinger,” I quickly correct myself, “won’t ever agree to that.”

He cocks his head. “Do you know what a Conflux is?”

I falter for a moment, because Slade hasn’t told me much about it. “I know that it’s some sort of trial that the royals call during special occasions.”

“Yes, but if you look throughout history, it’s not really a trial. It’s a spectacle.”

I blink in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“A Conflux is what royals call for either another monarch, family members of a royal, or a person of high status. Instead of following the normal laws of Orea, those called to a Conflux are exceptions. Brought forward because the subjects of Orea need to see that even people involved within the monarchy are handled and held to some type of law. In this case, a gold-touched pet who’s rumored to have stolen her king’s power and helped assassinate a prince,” he says pointedly.

My face grows hot. “Why are you telling me this?”

He tosses the leaf aside, letting it flutter to the ground. “Because, like I said, I like you. I think King Ravinger might be rotting your head, because all of Orea is not your enemy. I’m not your enemy. Let Second Kingdom do what they do, which is to call you in for questioning, you’ll explain your innocence, and they can give you a slap on the wrist.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s true,” he says with a shrug. “The history of the Conflux proves it. I think the most severe punishment was a fine for a hundred thousand gold coins in the last hundred years.”

“Whether that’s true or not, it doesn’t apply to me.”

“Think about it—nobody truly wants to go against Ravinger. We know how powerful he is. But if we let King Midas’s death stand without questioning? The people will be incensed. They’ll get dangerous ideas. Whether it’s to kill another royal without consequence or to take it upon themselves to mete out judgment, both of which we don’t want. That certainly wouldn’t be safe for you.”

I feel the underlying threat of his words like a papercut slicing over my skin.

Manu comes closer, dark eyes imploring. “Piece of advice, Doll, never let the people come up with their own narrative, because you’ll rarely like what they say. But if you take control of this now, if you give testament, then all the monarchs will be able to put on the show that everyone needs to see. We can move past this, and all this talk of war can be put behind us.”

My moiling thoughts twist in an eddy. I have no idea what to say or what to think.

Luckily, I’m saved a response when a guard comes striding forward. “My lady?” The man stops short when he notices Manu and then looks uncertainly between us.

I paste on a forced smile. “Yes?”

“There’s someone here to see you.”

I hesitate, surprise filling me. “Alright.”

“I’ll leave you to it, Lady Auren,” Manu says as he begins to walk away. “Just...think about what I’ve said.”

The guard and I both watch as he departs, and I let out a strained breath before I turn back. “Is there really someone here to see me?” I ask. “Or did you make that up?”

“I’ve been told there’s someone here requesting to see you.”

My brows draw together. “Who?”

“I’m not sure, my lady. I was only sent to fetch you.” He looks around nervously. “I’m sorry that you were out here alone with the Third Kingdom’s advisor. I will alert the other guards and make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” I say, because the last thing I want is for Slade to get angry at his guards. “Lead the way.”

He nods and I follow behind him to return inside the castle, and I wipe my hands over my brown dress, hoping there’s no grass stuck to me anywhere.

To my surprise, he doesn’t lead me anywhere upstairs, but toward the front door of the castle.

“They didn’t allow whoever it is to come inside?” I ask.

“No, my lady. Not without your permission.”

That takes me aback. What must they think? That I have any kind of authority here? It’s strange, even to me.

When we reach the entrance hall, there are three guards waiting by the open door, and at first, I can’t see who’s behind them. Yet when the sound of our footsteps echoes in the large, open space, the guards turn, and my eyes widen at the two figures standing there.

Rissa and Polly.

I stop in my tracks, mouth slightly open in surprise.

“Well, are you just going to stand there?” Rissa asks, delicate blonde brow arched up. “Or are you going to invite us in?”

I wasn’t sure where to bring them, so I settled for the drawing room on the second floor. I haven’t been in here before, but it has plenty of seats and a nice view of the river through the window.

Polly is glaring daggers at me from her spot on the chaise where she sits next to Rissa. Her black dress is covered in mud at the hem, as if she walked through the rivers, straight up to Brackhill’s door. It seems like it’s hanging off of her too, her curves far less noticeable than they were before. Her blonde hair is lackluster and tangled in a braid, but it’s the circles under her bloodshot eyes that are the most shocking. That, and the state of her peeled lips and cuticles. As if she’s been picking at the skin there, shucking them off strip by strip. Polly has always been beautiful, but right now, she’s rundown and almost sickly looking.

“What are you looking at?” she snaps, and I jerk my eyes away from her.

I turn to Rissa, and although she too appears as if she’s lost some weight and looks travel-worn, she doesn’t look worse for wear.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” I tell her.

Rissa looks around the room, eyes lingering on the green striped wallpaper. “Yes, well, when we left Ranhold, I had every intention of taking a cart and getting out of the city, but Polly was in a bad way.”

Polly’s eyes tighten, her head swiveling. “I was fine.”

Rissa presses her lips together. “You were not fine.”

“Well, I didn’t want to go!” she snarls. “You had no right—”

“I took you out of that place before you could kill yourself on dew. As your friend, I had every right.”

Polly turns away, cheeks lifted with color as she stews in her anger.

I watch this exchange in anxious fascination. For years, these two were thick as thieves, always laughing and talking, always so drop-dead gorgeous and put together. It’s almost like they’re two completely different people.

Yet I can somewhat relate. The aftermath of leaving Midas’s grip hasn’t been easy for any of us.

I have snippets of that night with them, of Rissa coming to collect Polly, and my stomach twists. “I forgot,” I admit. “I forgot to tell you to go to the army. How did you know?”

“Some woman with daggers shaved into her hair,” Rissa tells me. “She helped us get out of the castle, too.”

Relief surges through me. I need to remember to thank Lu the next time I see her.

“So you stayed with Fourth’s army?” I ask. “They didn’t give you any trouble?”

Rissa tightens her hands into balls in her lap. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. The hairy giant brute came in and grunted some words every so often, but aside from him, it was fine.”

“Hairy gi—Wait, are you talking about Osrik?”

Rissa sniffs. “Yes.”

An unruly laugh escapes me. “Please tell me that’s not what you called him to his face.”

She blinks her crystal-blue eyes at me. “Of course I did. He wants to behave like a lumbering boor, then I’ll call him as such.”

I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to suppress more amusement. “I can only imagine how well you two got along.”

For some reason, her own cheeks turn pink, and she looks away. “Yes, well. We’ve just arrived, and it was a long, long journey.”

“Of course,” I say soberly. “Did you want to...rest here?”

Rissa says yes at the same time as Polly turns and snaps out a no.

I look between them.

A trundled, weary sigh escapes Rissa. “Polly—”

“No,” she says, lurching to her feet. “I’m done. Done, Rissa. You just dragged me out of Fifth Kingdom, across the Barrens, past disgusting, rotted swamplands, all the way to this stupid kingdom, and I’m done!”

Her chest heaves, her voice shrill.

“I was trying to help you—”

“Well,” Polly seethes, eyes alight. “I didn’t want your help.”

Rissa looks stricken.

“That’s right,” Polly pounces, peeled finger pointed at her face. “That’s what you’re not getting, what you haven’t understood through this entire Divine-forsaken trip. You didn’t rescue me. I was happy there.”

“You were high!”

“So? I liked it. I liked the way it made me feel. And it was my choice.”

Anger flashes through Rissa’s eyes. “I wasn’t just going to leave you there to drug yourself to death!”

“I wasn’t going to,” Polly snaps. “Not that you’d believe me. But you know the difference between you and me? All those times you talked about buying out your contract? You never once noticed I didn’t want that. You thought that everyone—me included—wanted out as much as you did, but you were wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I like being a saddle, Rissa. You were the only one that started to hate it. But guess what. We might look alike, but we don’t think alike. Because I’m a damn good saddle, and I want to keep doing it. I like being desired. I like the power sex gives me. Being a royal saddle was the best position I could hope for, and you dragged me out of there without my consent. So I am done.”

The jolted tangle of silence that quakes between them has my eyes darting left and right. I feel entirely out of place hearing this, so I do my best not to make any noise at all.

After a moment, Rissa seems to deflate, as if Polly’s words stuck a needle in her spine, letting the air out of her stiffened back. “I’m sorry, Polly,” she whispers, emotion thick in her voice. “I didn’t understand. I didn’t listen.”

“You’re right. You didn’t,” she snaps. “You always think I’m just being stupid Polly. Immature Polly. High, irresponsible, bitchy Polly. And maybe I am those things, but I am also a damn good saddle, and there’s no shame in that.”

“Of course there’s not,” Rissa says imploringly. “I was a saddle by choice in the beginning. I never thought that.”

“Good. Because you were a damn good one too, and I liked that we were a team. But we can’t be one anymore. Our king is dead and now we’re here, and we both want different things.”

A sheen of moisture glazes over Rissa’s eyes, and she dips her head slightly. I’ve never seen Rissa so cowed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Polly gives a sharp nod, and then her back seems to loosen some of its stiffness as well. She drags her gaze to the window, arms crossed in front of her as she lets out a sigh. “Well. At least this place isn’t so damn cold,” she muses.

Rissa seems to take that as some sort of consolation and sends her a soft smile. “Yes. No more cold.”

The two women share a look, some of the hostility seeping away.

Of course, then Polly turns and levels her eyes on me. “Now, I need a bath to wash off weeks of traveling from my body, and a new dress so I can look my best. And then I want some coin and a carriage ride to the best and most expensive brothel in the city, because they’re about to employ their best saddle. Unless of course King Rot wants a new royal saddle,” she says with an arrogant twist of her lips.

I ignore that part, my eyes flicking to Rissa. “Some coin?”

She shrugs. “I told Polly that since you’re here with King Rot, you’d give us some help. Saddle to saddle.”

“She tried to drug me,” I say dryly.

“On Midas’s orders,” Polly retorts. “And what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t disobey him. Women have to do what they have to do.”

I let out a sigh, but sympathy rises up in me even though I don’t want it to. After everything, I don’t want to keep giving myself to people like Polly and Mist. But she’s right. Women have to do what they have to do. I just think our idea of that happens to be two very different things. “I’ll have something for you before you leave.”

I think surprise flashes over her eyes for a moment, but she shutters it before I can tell for sure. “So,” she begins, looking around the room, finger dragging over one of the high back cushioned chairs. “You changed kings quickly.”

I look at her coolly. “On the contrary. I changed far too slowly.”

She says nothing at that.

I get to my feet, closing the distance between us. “For what it’s worth, Polly, I hope you can be happy here in Fourth Kingdom.”

Her eyes narrow, like she doesn’t believe me. “Of course I’ll be happy,” she says defensively, as if she’s out to prove herself right, no matter the cost.

“What about you?” I ask Rissa. “Are you wanting to leave the kingdom? Because I have to warn you, I’m not sure where in Orea is the best place to be right now.”

“Actually, I was thinking of…staying here.”

My brows jump up. “Staying?” I didn’t expect that. All Rissa’s been talking about is leaving. Traveling. Getting far away from everything that reminds her of her life as a royal saddle. Maybe she wants to stay to watch over Polly, but for some reason, I think it’s more than that.

“Yes,” she replies tartly, ending the discussion in that succinct single-word answer as she gets to her feet. “Now, I’ll need a bath and a dress too, and also a room where I can sleep. I can’t even tell you how utterly sick I am of sleeping in a tent and being caught in the shadow of that hairy oaf every night.”

That’s the second time she’s mentioned him.

“Did something...happen between you and Osrik?” I ask carefully.

The flare of irritation in her eyes is withering enough to make my brows lift. “Me with that lout? Of course not,” she replies hotly.

So hot that there’s another blush burned on her cheeks.

Interesting.

“Right,” I say slowly. “Let’s…go get you those baths.”

“Honestly,” Rissa grumbles behind my back as she and Polly follow me out of the room. “Me and him. The very idea.”

The very idea indeed.