27. Kiera

Chapter 27

Kiera

My father was going to die.

Or at least, I had to pretend that I wanted him to. While trying to figure out a way to keep it from coming to that. I’d already had one parent die by someone else’s hand. Despite his crimes, I didn’t see the sense in further bloodshed.

There had to be a better way to put Everett on the throne.

I spun ideas around and around my head while Melaena stuffed me with fried eggs and toast and insisted I get more sleep. I barely spoke to her.

I tossed and turned in one of the beds in the dancers’ sleeping quarters. Sleep brought nightmares. Consciousness offered little better.

But I was alive. I’d convinced Aiden I wasn’t a spy, although he seemed to burrow closer and closer to that truth. Would he kill me then?

The skin at my throat tingled as if remembering the cold edge of his knife there. Gods, I’d never felt so vulnerable and afraid. But then he’d seemed to come back to himself, horrified by what he’d done.

His remorse should have brought me some level of peace, but nothing about this brought me any.

Triumph, maybe, that I finally knew his intentions without a doubt. Really, that had been the only answer I was left with.

Frustration, because I still didn’t know his whole plan. I had yet to even see the gold, let alone see what he did with it. Was that one of the things he had to “sort out?” But he’d essentially imprisoned me here until he was ready.

And fear... fear of discovery, fear of what I’d agreed to, fear for my family.

It was strange how my goal of seeing Everett on the throne mirrored that of Aiden’s. Although, I hadn’t planned on murdering my father to see it done.

There had to be another way. But would Aiden listen? Would my father? Would anyone?

Aiden sought revenge for a lifetime of injustice. I understood that. But killing a king... so many things could go wrong. My father had planted many allies in the ranks of the nobles and the army—anywhere he believed held power. He’d had decades to establish himself.

What kind of crumbling kingdom would my brother be ruling amid my father’s supporters?

Someone knocked on the door, and I sighed, throwing off my twisted blankets. There were four beds in each room, and Melaena had given me the only unclaimed one. A few of the dancers had wandered in throughout the day, dumping their stuff or taking quick naps. But Tullia and Jayde weren’t among them. They must live in the other room.

I trudged barefoot to the door and opened it to see Elias, Melaena’s servant boy. The nervous one. He held out a sealed envelope, which shook like a leaf in his hand.

“F-for Katerina,” he said.

“Katerina,” I repeated blankly. “Who told you that name?”

“Th-the messenger who came to the front door. He said this was for Katerina, the new dancer.” The boy’s eyes begged me to take the envelope as if it were burning his hands.

Only Asher knew that name. Why would he send me a message?

I gingerly took it from the boy’s hands, and he fled.

The envelope was heavier than I expected. And lumpy.

I closed the bedroom door and took it back to my bed. A single blob of gold wax sealed the envelope, imprinted by something round and flat. No insignia. A coin maybe?

I broke the seal and pulled out a single piece of thick white parchment.

Join me for a late dinner tonight.

—A.

Something shifted in the bottom of the envelope. I shook it out.

My heart dropped.

Death’s skull leered up at me.

Renwell’s token. The one I used to get in and out of the palace.

This message wasn’t from Asher. It was from Renwell. He wanted me to come to the palace tonight. He must’ve heard that I was at The Silk Dancer . I shuddered to think how.

I picked up the Death and Four tile, rubbing my thumb over its etched black-stone surface.

The messenger had said, “Katerina.”

Only Asher could’ve told Renwell that name. Could’ve told him of our connection last night.

Which meant . . .

Asher knew he’d been robbed. And Renwell had taken him to the palace. To my father.

I clutched the token in my suddenly sweaty palm. A command from my father was the only reason Renwell would risk my cover now.

Something was wrong.

Melaena’s after-party was still in full swing when I took my leave, claiming I was exhausted. She watched me leave the entertainment hall with sad eyes as the other dancers continued to eat and laugh and do silly dances on the stage as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

I felt as though I were preparing for battle.

I changed from my party dress into my plain black shirt, pants, and boots. I cinched my knives around my waist with a grimace. My cloak and neckcloth turned me into a complete shadow. Last, I tucked Renwell’s Death token into my pocket. I’d fed his note to the hearth fire moments after reading it.

I stuffed my bed with pillows and blankets to look like a sleeping body, then strode to the large, curtained window in the room. I’d already tested the latch.

After checking the street outside, I slipped out the window, easing it closed behind me. The sleeping quarters were on the second floor, situated above another set of sitting rooms. But no one should be using those tonight. The Silk Dancer was closed to outsiders for the party.

My fingers and boots clung to the ridges in the stone wall. I crept along, praying no one was passing by this late at night. It reminded me of escaping Garyth’s study. At least there was no rain tonight. But instead of escaping, I was running to danger. I feared what awaited me more than I feared this climb.

I passed under Melaena’s window, then navigated around the corner to the back of the building where I’d noticed a servant’s ladder when I’d done a quick study of the building.

Most of the noble houses had these ladders for servants to climb to the roof for maintenance. I’d used one to find a perch to spy on Garyth from.

I hurried down the ladder and landed in the back alley. The moon was hidden behind clouds, but I didn’t need it as I scurried along with the rats.

Eventually, I had to swerve out into the main road. Two guards waited by the torch-lit gate, the waterfall roaring behind them. They clenched their spears tighter as I approached. I took a deep breath and flashed them the Death token. They didn’t relax, but they let me through the gate.

As I crossed the bridge, the glowing palace ahead of me, I glanced down at the waterfall—something I hadn’t dared to do in years.

It was strange, knowing what was hidden beneath it. The Den. The caves. The tunnels. Only two weeks had passed since I’d clawed my way out of there with Aiden and Maz.

So much had changed. What would Aiden do if he could see me now? Especially after I told him I wouldn’t leave the club.

I climbed the dozens of white steps to the palace doors. There were nearly as many guards as there were steps. They watched me with gleaming eyes, armed with knives, spears, and clubs. Torchlight shone over their polished bronze armor.

This didn’t feel like a battle. This felt like walking to my own execution.

I nearly tripped over the last step, catching myself just in time. Two guards shoved open the heavy doors. They’d been expecting me, it seemed.

A lone figure swathed in black, just as I was, waited on the other side. The large hood only revealed a dark eye and half of an ominous smile.

Renwell.

I held my breath, waiting for him to say something, but he merely stretched out his hand. I dropped his Death token into it. He clenched his fist and sauntered toward the next set of doors, more ornate than the last. The throne room.

Heartbeat frantic, I stepped up behind him as he opened one door wide enough to slip through. I followed, and someone—a guard, probably—shoved the door shut behind me.

The sound echoed through the cavernous room, which was large enough to hold hundreds of people. But right now, it only held four.

Light from torches and chandeliers around the room made it feel brighter than day. Columns stacked on top of columns soared to the painted dome ceiling. A black marble dais led to a gold throne where my father sat amid deep purple cushions, his gold and sunstone crown firmly in place on his iron-gray hair.

It’d only been a few weeks since I’d last stood in front of him. I felt as though a dozen knives had reshaped me since then. Yet, I recalled the sting of his palm against my cheek as if it were a mere moment ago.

Asher, dressed in an embroidered jacket and pants, stood at the foot of the dais. His curls were disheveled, and he fidgeted with a broken button on his cuff.

He shot a frightened look over his shoulder at the sound of our footsteps, but he didn’t dare turn his back to Father.

I had to force my legs to keep walking. An animalistic instinct to survive gnashed at my muscles, telling me to run away. But I didn’t stop until I reached the dais. Renwell stood between me and Asher.

We bowed.

Father tilted his head, his gaze scraping over me like the sharp edge of a knife.

“Katerina, Your Majesty,” Renwell said.

Asher’s head whipped toward us, peering around Renwell with wide eyes. “N-no. That can’t be her. She’s one of Melaena’s dancers. A sweet girl who couldn’t have?—”

“Take off your hood and mask,” Father barked at me.

I obeyed.

Asher paled, swaying a little on his feet. “You . . . you . . . you’re?—”

“Yes, yes,” Father said with a nasty smile. “From princess to spy to thief and seductress. Emilia, Kiera, Katerina—you can’t make up your gods-damned mind, can you, girl?”

I flinched. Asher continued to stare at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Renwell informed me of your little heist this afternoon,” Father continued. “What in the deep, dark, wandering hell possessed you to go through with such a foolish, treasonous plan ?” he roared the last three words.

Even though he remained seated, his fury rose to fill every corner of the room. Every flame seemed to gutter under its weight.

I could barely breathe past my tightened throat, as if a fistful of the stolen coins was wedged there. Why hadn’t Renwell told him about the heist earlier, after we spoke at The Crescent Moon ?

“It was the only way,” I whispered. I cleared my throat and spoke louder. “I offered it as a ruse to discover the... the criminals’ intentions.”

“See? She knows where it is,” Asher babbled. “We can?—”

“Silence!” Father snarled. “Or I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to your kin—the sewer rats.”

Asher’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow, but he stayed quiet.

Father’s eyes cut back to me. I hated those eyes. I hated that they were a mirror of mine. But most of all, I hated the disgust and contempt in them when he looked at me.

“Tell me how you did it,” he said, his ringed fingers clawing into his gold armrests. “Every. Detail. Do you understand?”

I nodded, fear crawling over me like a thousand ants. What had Asher told them? Already my mind tried to cut out the memories that weren’t too damning, to offer the pieces that might save my own skin.

Haltingly, I told him about the dance, about getting close to Asher and stealing the key, about remembering which lock to open. I forced Aiden’s and Maz’s names from my lips, told Father of their disguises and their plan to get the barrels out. But I refused to tell him of the kiss. I would die with that memory locked in my soul.

My words came faster after Aiden’s and Maz’s roles were over. I tried to lessen Asher’s gullibility and my fumbling, but by the end, Father was nearly apoplectic with rage.

“You,” he spat, jabbing a finger at Asher. “You call yourself my High Treasurer. A position your father held for my entire reign before you. And you let a girl steal my fucking gold!”

Asher stumbled back a few steps, gasping. Renwell matched pace with him as if to keep him from running, but he didn’t reach for the crumbling noble.

“P-please, Your Highness, Merciful Majesty. I didn’t know—I’ll get it all back—I would never?—”

“Are you telling me you know where it is?” Father asked.

“No!” Asher’s wide eyes rolled, like a panicked horse’s. “But she does! Ask her!” He fell to his knees before me. “Please,” he whispered. “Tell him.”

Tears stung my eyes. My body shook uncontrollably. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know?—”

Asher’s face slackened.

“No one fails me twice,” Father said. He jerked his head at Renwell.

“Wait!” I screamed.

Renwell stepped up behind Asher and slit his throat.