54

Jadon isn’t in his room—his bed is still made. I don’t see his armor or his sword. He didn’t return to my bed, and it seems he didn’t return to his.

Voices drift from downstairs.

Breakfast. Eggs. Bacon. Toast. Something hot to drink. Something cold to drink. More servings wrapped in bundles for our return to the road.

But I smell none of that as I drift down the corridor.

The ever-present nausea returns to roil in my stomach. My shoulder aches, and as I dressed, I saw the plum-colored bruises on both of my shoulders and my left hip and upper arm. Some of me feels too soft, like aging strawberries. I know what this is—and it has nothing to do with Jadon and me being together.

No, this is my deterioration. I need to follow those moths and find my pendant before more parts of me turn tender and sore. The luclite armor helps—its magical properties have strengthened my bones, and I’m not creaky in my joints, at least. Each piece protects those parts of me that I’ll need for my journey to Weeton. But my moths are near, which means my happily ever after is coming, waiting for me at the sea surrounding Mount Devour. Soon.

As I round the corridor’s corner, the voice I heard earlier becomes clear. That’s not Jadon. Nor is it Separi, Ridget, or Philia. My heart sinks when I walk through the door to find Jadon sitting at the table in the center of the inn’s great room. He faces the man who is talking—a man I recognize from Caerno Woods.

Gileon Wake.

Soldiers ring the room, their copper armor bright, their weapons sharp but stowed. Philia, still wearing a dressing gown, huddles behind the bar with Separi. Contempt burns on the women’s faces. Hate shines in their eyes.

“Good morning,” I say, dread now conjoined with sickness. “What’s happening?”

Jadon doesn’t speak. He won’t even meet my eyes, choosing instead to sit there and glare at the tabletop.

Gileon sits up in his chair. “I guess I should answer, since it seems like Jadon here has misplaced his tongue and his manners. He may have forgotten at least one of them in your bed. I’m guessing…his tongue.” His eyes slide over me, raking my body as though he sees what Jadon did with his tongue last night. Satisfied, he steeples his fingers and slips down in the chair. “I believe you know who I am.”

“I do,” I say with fake pleasantry, then snap my eyes to Jadon. “Hey. We need to go.” Back to Wake again with a too-sweet smile. “Big things to do today.”

Gileon plucks a piece of lint from the front of his linen tunic. He isn’t wearing his armor. With… one, two, three, four …fourteen soldiers surrounding him, he thinks he doesn’t need it.

“You’re the one they call ‘Kai,’ yes?” the prince asks. His blond hair is clean, neat, and parted on the side. His blue eyes are bright but flat. If he had a kinder heart and a decent spirit, he’d be a delightful picture of benevolent wealth. But he isn’t kind nor is he decent—I know this, and I just met the man.

There’s no way out of this, and right now, I don’t know how to snap Jadon out of his stupor to escape Wake’s presence. I huff and say, “Fine.” I drop my satchel into the closest chair and direct my attention to Wake. “How did you find us?” I set my hands on my hips, moving my cloak aside.

The guards all startle at my movement. On their toes now.

Good. I need them to see my sword and Veril’s staff without any obstruction.

Gileon yawns, bored. “A little red bird told me. Elyn’s always been incredibly helpful. And then one of my former mage soldiers—a drunken failure—saw you on the road. He couldn’t wait to bring back exciting news.”

So it’s true. Mages are working for the Wake empire. Was the one we saw on the road from Peria? And… Elyn ? Shit. So, I was right about her working with the emperor. What brought them together? What is he giving her?

With his foot, the prince pushes an empty chair toward me. “Please. Sit.” He twists to face the bar. “Separi was just about to take our breakfast order, weren’t you, dear?” He cranes his neck to see the innkeeper.

Separi glares at him. “The kitchen’s closed this morning.”

“That’s too bad,” Gileon says, tsk ing. “I’m starving. Kai—” He pushes the chair again with his foot. “You’re still welcome—encouraged, even—to sit with us.”

“I’m good right here,” I say. “Thank you.”

My nerves are twinging. Something isn’t right. Jadon isn’t right. He still hasn’t spoken and only glowers, eyes down. He’s dressed, though, in his armor, and Chaos shines from the floor beneath his seat. Did Separi summon him last night as a warning? Is that why he had time to dress?

I try to hear his thoughts but…

I can’t read his thoughts.

What the fuck is happening?

The room sinks into silence except for the ticking of a clock somewhere behind me.

“We were just catching up, Jadon and me,” Gileon starts. “You’re searching for Olivia, right? I’m searching for someone, too. My commander. Last time I saw him, he was somewhere near Caerno Woods.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Last time I saw him, he was still there. In a sense.” I pause, then add, “Depending on your definition of ‘was.’”

The muscles traveling along Gileon’s jaw and neck bulge. But he pushes his rage down and takes up his feigned politeness. “You’re devolving, Jadon. Can’t believe you traveled all the way from Maford, fighting beasts at every turn, risking your life for Olivia Corby, some simple bitch from Stiwood, whose father is just a, what? Duke?”

Gileon squints and points to me. “So are you now his simple bitch?” He throws his hands up, pretending to be frustrated. “I’m confused. Clear this up for me, Jadon. Which one are you fucking? This one right here or my fiancée?”

His words slap me. My cheek stings and I see stars as I choke back my surprise and watch in horror as his smile challenges me to respond, to dispute his official proclamation. Blood drains from my face, but I won’t cry. I won’t fall apart, especially not in front of the men who already see me as a worthless trinket.

Jadon doesn’t respond, and his silence means that he agrees with Gileon Wake—that I am nothing. I don’t want to believe that, and I’m still clawing at the earth, imploring him to speak a word of defense, just one word that I can hold fast to.

Gileon’s brow crumples with sorrow. “Kai, I’m assuming he told you that Olivia is not his sister.”

“What’s the point of this?” I whisper, arms spread. “I want nothing from you. I’ve done nothing to you. I just want to reclaim something that Olivia has, something she stole from me.”

“I guess I was looking forward to seeing your reaction,” Gileon continues. “I wanted to see how you’d react as you discovered that this honorable man seated across from me hasn’t been honest with you, Kai. I admit…” He spins a geld atop the table. “I thought Olivia ran off to be with Jadon because they were in love, but…” He presses a finger to his lips, then taps his fingernail against his tooth, thinking.

“Don’t,” Jadon warns Gileon, his eyes burning. “We’ll resolve this, you and me. No need to bring Kai into it. Tell her where Olivia is and let her go about her business.”

But Jadon’s request only makes Gileon’s wicked smile widen. The prince sets his palms flat on the table. He meets my eyes, and there is hurt there. “I’m the fool. I was told by reliable sources that the love of my life… That she doesn’t like men. She could’ve told me. We could’ve figured something out. Marriages aren’t about love in our world, and families make arrangements all the time. But she didn’t even give me the opportunity or the respect. And then she steals my family’s book on top of that and runs?” He shakes his head, sits back in his seat, his nostrils flaring.

Behind me, Philia weeps. Before me, Wake’s fingers tap the tabletop as his anger crackles until he clears his throat and pushes out a breath. He snaps up the geld from the table, flicks his eyes at Jadon, then levels his gaze at me. “I apologize. I’m sure you didn’t expect such melodrama. Thank this guy right here. All of this clamor and tumult is for him. And for…”

He searches the ceiling and counts to himself. “Nearly an hour now, I’ve been trying to convince him to return to Brithellum and do what’s required of him. The emperor was amused at first, Jadon, but then you stayed away for years . But!” Gileon lifts a finger. “Good news! In his kind wisdom, his endless patience, he will forgive you. If you return peacefully, no one gets hurt. Not Olivia. And not this one.” He scans me from head to toe again, then lifts his eyebrows. “I can see the appeal.” He chuckles and winks at me. “No offense.”

My shoulders, as bruised as they are, now tingle, and my hands, oh, fuck , my hands…

Gileon slaps the table.

We all startle, even the soldiers.

“Snap out of it,” Gileon spits at Jadon.

I agree. Snap the fuck out of it, Jadon.

Jadon lifts his eyes to meet Gileon’s.

“They’re all lined up to meet you,” Gileon snarls, “to marry you, to have your babies. Women with class and royal blood, whose families are powerful—”

“No one’s as powerful as the Lady!” Philia shouts.

This makes Gileon finally turn around in his seat to glare at Philia. “I recognize the true Supreme, the one Supreme, manifested in my father, Emperor Syrus Wake. No true believer accepts false gods.” He glares at me. “Not even a fuckable one like the Lady here.”

Stay calm. Wait as long as you can. You kill him now, you may never find Olivia or your amulet and you will never reach Mount Devour and you will die in this pigsty called Vallendor . If you hurl wind or fire like you want, Separi and her family may get hurt. If you kill Gileon Wake, Caburh may suffer even more than Maford did.

Gileon scowls at Jadon with unfiltered loathing. “Are you done slumming , Jadon? Have you gotten it out of your system?”

Jadon’s jaw tightens, and his skin flushes red.

I loudly exhale, then close my eyes, let my head fall back. After counting to ten, I open my eyes and search the ceiling for anything—a ladybug or a painted posy—to calm the rage bucking against its cage. Somehow, I’m able to focus on Gileon Wake without having to strangle him. “I don’t know you,” I say, calm and soft, “but I had really hoped that you were killed by my fire. There’s something about you that makes me want to start another.”

Gileon pales some but returns to spinning that coin on the tabletop.

“How is that soldier?” I ask. “Not the one I killed with his own pike and burned so thoroughly that even Supreme would give up putting him back together. No, I’m talking about the one who lost his hand after striking his horse. Is that soldier still alive? Has death claimed him yet? If you tell me where he is, I can finish him off, if you wish. Your Highness .”

Gileon’s eyes widen, and any color he had left has abandoned his body. He remains silent, though.

A smile plays on the edge of Jadon’s lips.

I take a step forward.

The soldiers reach for their swords.

Gileon lifts his hand.

The soldiers stand down—but not all the way down.

I place my knuckles on the table and bend until I’m eye to eye with the prince of Brithellum. “You must understand this: your men killed a Renrian. Did they tell you that? Oh, wait. For a second time now, I’ve forgotten… No one from that battalion survived to tell you.”

Gileon’s eyes dart to the soldiers standing at the walls.

“Your men,” I continue, “killed someone who has served Vallendor Realm for two hundred years. His name was Veril Bairnell the Sapient, and one of him is worth three thousand of your men. By my count, I have two thousand, nine hundred and sixty to go. And once I hit that target…” I stand up straight. “We’ll be even.”

Gileon goes back to spinning his coin, but his fingers tremble. “And then what, Lady? You and this one—?” He thrusts his chin at Jadon. “You two will ride off into the twilight, living happily ever after? Always fighting? Always running? Always filthy and hungry and anxious? I won’t stop looking for him. And Elyn won’t stop looking for you.”

Gileon taps Jadon’s hand. “Don’t tell me this is the life that you want. I mean… You can have everything, anything , and it’s yours. I mean…you are a prince of Brithellum, after all.”

“What?” Not only do I say this, but Philia does, too.

“Oh, so you didn’t tell them everything?” Gileon gawks at Jadon. “Are you going to say something, brother ?”

“Brother?” I whisper, my voice weak, my heart… shattered.

Gileon’s focus remains on Jadon. “I’m just astounded that you never told her. Information like that is critical, especially during negotiations.” He makes a noise expressing disgust, then turns to me, his eyes burning with anger. “Your boyfriend—my brother—is the eldest son of the emperor, and we’ve been looking for him everywhere .”

Jadon lifts his gaze and looks over to me with flat eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Then those eyes flicker and glint. And that’s when he lunges across the table and wraps his hands around Gileon’s neck.