Chapter 31

THIRTY-ONE

Tempest

A few minutes into her journey from the barracks, a heavy hand fell on Tempest's shoulder, roughly pulling on her. She stopped in her tracks, ready to punch whoever it was in the face for getting in her way. Spinning, she shrugged off the hand and blinked as she came face to chest with Maxim. He reached for her arm, and she jerked back.

"Leave me," she said, voice icy. The Hounds were all working for the king. They did his bidding without protest. Mindless killers. She loved her uncles, but they had sworn an oath just like she had. The Crown came first, as it should. She wasn't beholden to them, even if they'd raised her. "Leave me alone."

"There are soldiers looking for you, back at the barracks. I do not think you will find peace there." A pained expression crossed Maxim's face. "What were you thinking? You will be taken back to the palace and watched every second for the rest of your life."

"What do you propose I do?" she exclaimed, feeling trapped and panicked by her ever-shrinking options. Tempest drooped her head, feeling useless. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You can follow me."

For a moment, Tempest didn't know what to do. Trust didn't come easy these days. Could she trust any of her uncles? They had clearly been part of the reason mimkia had spread. They were guilty through and through, whether they knew exactly what they had been doing or not. Even so, she didn't doubt they loved her, but was that enough for them to betray their king? She peered up at Maxim, scrutinizing him. He'd never lied to her before, and true concern colored his expression.

"Make a decision now, lass," he said softly. "There isn't much time."

"All right," she whispered. "Lead the way."

A fist squeezed around her chest when he reached out and lifted the hood of her cloak over her head and tucked her hair away. She felt like a child again, and heat pressed at the back of her eyes at the sweet gesture. Maxim pulled his own hood up and bid her to follow him. Snow and ice cracked beneath their boots as he led her deeper into the capital—the streets unfamiliar—but eventually she recognized the back entrance of a tavern that her uncle frequented. Out of habit, she scanned the area, noting a few drunkards who were lazily leaning against nearby buildings. Nothing too suspicious, but still, something set her off.

"This isn't right," she murmured, her gaze straying to Maxim's back. "I think we're being watched. "

"We are. Now, hush," he said, voice lowered. "And let me do all the talking."

That sounded foreboding. She snapped her mouth shut and examined the street once again. Her uncle knocked on the back door with some impatience. After a few seconds, a silent servant with white, grizzled hair, opened the door and waved them in, taking them up a flight of stairs and then another. The scent of stew, bread, and unwashed bodies permeated the area. The servant lifted a broom and rapped on the ceiling. Tempest observed in silence as a trapdoor opened in the ceiling and a rope ladder was tossed down.

The servant stepped aside, his gaze averted to the wall. Why wasn't he looking at them?

"You first, Temp," Maxim said.

Her attention snapped back to her uncle. "What is going on?"

"Just get up there."

She frowned at her uncle and ascended the ladder, reaching the attic floor. Her mood soured when she spotted who awaited her. "No," she muttered and tried to go back down, but Maxim was already behind her.

He smacked her on the rump. "Climb, lass."

"Traitor," she hissed, her nerves on edge as she climbed into the room. The rest of her Hound uncles—Dima, Aleks and even Madrid—stood there watching her, faces ranging from concern to anger to complete desolation.

Maxim came up behind her and closed the trapdoor. Tension so thick it could be cut with a sword swelled in the room.

"What is going on?" she asked in a level tone .

"We should ask you the same thing," Dima replied, a bite to his words. "How could you do such a thing?"

Were they speaking about her association with the Jester or her betrothal to the king? Time to play stupid. "I don't know what you mean."

Maxim crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "That won't work on us, lass. We raised you."

"You cannot marry the king." Madrid stepped away from the wall, his dark gray eyes narrowed. "It was foolish to encourage his attachment to you. Just what were you thinking?"

Oh no, he did not.

He did not get to deal out judgement when she knew his hands were soiled with the blood of their people.

"You think I chose this?" she hissed, stepping closer to Madrid. "All I have wanted is to be a Hound my entire life. If I'd had a choice, I would have run far, far away from the king. I'm not na?ve. How could you expect me to turn down the king's proposal? I'm not suicidal. If I had refused him, my life and yours would be in jeopardy."

"Your life already hangs in the balance," Aleks said.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye but made sure to stare down Madrid. "You and I know he gets everything he wants without consequence. I am no exception."

"Careful," Dima said. "Your words are sounding a bit revolutionary."

"Oh, come off it," she said heatedly. "I'm not stating anything that isn't true."

"You could have come to us," Aleks said in his soft-spoken way.

That was the last straw. She turned the full force of her loathing on her uncle. "And when would I have done that? Between your mass poisonings of your people?"

"Tempest," Dima barked.

"No!" She held a finger up and glared harder at Aleks. "You cared for me when I was sick and were more of a father figure to me than anyone." Her chest ached painfully. "I'd always hoped you were my real father, now I pray to all that's holy that it's not true. I couldn't bear the thought to have the same blood as someone who kills innocents, children no less."

"That's enough," Madrid cut in.

"No, it's not nearly enough." All the pain, worry, and confusion were pouring out of her, and she couldn't hold it all back. She scornfully eyed the four men. "You four are leaders of the Hounds. I know you're not ignorant about the mimkia. I've seen the devastation it's brought to our kingdom. How could you do such a thing? We're supposed to be protectors, not executioners!"

"I had to do it," Aleks said. His eyes were mournful and full of shame. "At first, I did not know the full extent of what I was being asked to do, but I would be lying if I said I was still that ignorant now. I admit it: I am the one responsible for purifying all of the mimkia to be shipped into the villages. I am guilty of it all."

She'd known it was so, but to hear it was a different thing altogether. Everyone around her had been lying through their teeth this whole time—on both sides of the Heimseryan and Talagan conflict: Pyre, King Destin, and the Hounds. She couldn't trust anyone, not even her uncles. She snapped, a red veil slamming over her vision.

Screaming, she lashed out toward Aleks, with every intention of attacking him where he stood. Dima grabbed her around her waist and lifted her from the ground.

"Calm down," Dima commanded.

"I will not!" she yelled. "He's a murderer. You are all murderers . You make me sick."

Maxim moved closer; his steps were quiet for such a big man. He held up his hands. "You need to calm down, lass."

"You're just as bad as the king!"

"We are not." A twitch of anger creased Maxim's brow. "Once you calm down, you'll realize that. The king has more sway and power than one man ever should. I'm sure you know that. There was nothing we could do in the face of his orders other than to obey them. Such is the life of a servant of the Crown."

"Then you are no better than him! You could have done something , even if it meant losing your life. You could do something."

"And where would that get us?" Madrid interjected, his composure skill intact. "The king would just replace us with pawns who would unflinchingly do his bidding, and then what? There would be no one left to oppose him."

Oppose him. The words rattled around in her head, and she sagged in Dima's grasp. "Is that what you're doing, opposing him? Because from where I'm standing it sounds an awful lot like justification for genocide."

Maxim sighed, and his shoulders grew slack. "Sometimes, Tempest, in the name of the greater good, there is no choice. You have to do evil things."

No. She didn't believe it. "But the children—"

"Think of how many thousands more children we have to protect!" Maxim said, grabbing Tempest's face as if the pressure of his fingers on her cheeks would make her understand his point. "You cannot know what is at stake."

Tempest bit her lip. She didn't agree, and Maxim could see that clear as day on her face. He loosened his grip, smiling sadly, and caressed her cheek. "I know you do not agree. In fact, it is in your nature not to agree with such a notion as doing something evil for the sake of good. Just because your intentions are honest, it doesn't make your evil acts any less reprehensible. But sometimes… sometimes, you really must do whatever is necessary to protect the little ones."

The fight went out of her, and she hung her head, wanting to cry. "Let me go, Dima."

Her uncle released her, and she collapsed on an empty wine barrel that lay on the floor, near a small window. She stared at her shoes and then out at the city, her gaze resting on the far-off castle. It was this sort of justification and lack of action that was tearing their kingdom apart.

"The little ones need protection from the king ," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "And I intend to take on the responsibility."

"You think you can change him?" Dima sneered.

Tempest laughed hollowly. "No."

She turned from the window and examined each man.

First, it was Aleks, who looked so ashamed. She felt tempted to console him despite her anger, but she knew better. He deserved to wallow in what he'd done. Next, Dima, whose face was almost impossible to read, as usual, but Tempest knew him well enough to recognize the slight tensing around his jaw that meant he was on the verge of losing his temper. Then Maxim, whose eyes pleaded with her to take what he had said at face value and trust them .

"Has the king threatened you?" she said bluntly.

"In what way?" Dima asked carefully.

That was an answer in and of itself. What threats had the king made? What would be so important that they'd commit such crimes? "So, we're at an impasse."

"It would appear so," Madrid answered.

She stared at the infamous Hound. He held her gaze, and, for the first time, she saw a real emotion. Disappointment and something almost… protective. Fiercely so.

Oh. Winter's bite. You are stupid.

She thought of what Maxim had said about doing what had to be done to protect the little ones. She was their little one.

"How long has he held me over your head?"

None of the men answered.

A long time then, she gathered from their silence. Her stomach rolled. She had agreed to marry a man who had been using her safety and wellbeing as a means to force good men into doing very unspeakable acts. Acts she was fighting against.

"Tempest," Madrid said, very quietly, finally breaking the oppressive silence in the room. "I will only offer this once. We will hide you from the king. He will never find you. I'm certain you agreed to his proposal for the right reasons, but this choice will only result in your death."

"Not if I get to him first."

Madrid sighed. "I'm going to ignore you said that."

"We never wanted his attention on you," Dima added, nodding slowly. "I'm sure this comes as no surprise, but the king has a reputation of disposing of every lover he's ever taken to bed." His jaw clenched. "I've buried too many bodies and won't allow you to be the next one," he said raggedly .

"We tried to keep you from the king's notice," Aleks said gently. "But your trial secured his undivided attention."

"Oh, so it's all my fault," Tempest fired back, hackles raised at the insinuation. "It's my fault that he organized my opponent to be a lion—expecting me to fail and die, I might add. And then, when I unexpectedly won, it's my fault he sought me out, knowing that I could not escape." Her throat tightened. "And it's my fault he pushed his advances on me, knowing I could not refuse."

Maxim seemed to swell. "If he's touched you—"

"I've been able to handle myself." Mostly. But for how long?

"We never said this is your fault," Madrid cut in, calm as ever. "There was ultimately no way we were going to be able to stop his attention from falling on you, the first female Hound. We just… hoped otherwise. We wished for things to be different." His back stiffened, and his expression grew even more serious than it had been before. "But that's why you must leave," he said. "I know your intentions are good. I have no doubt you'll try to build your position and influence as queen to the best of your advantage. But Destin will see right through what you're doing, and you'll be dead by morning. You can't marry him."

Tempest glowered, feeling somewhat like a petulant child. "And why not?" she asked, expecting the answer to be along the lines of we want to protect you .

"Because you will undo all the work that we have already done," Aleks said, his voice so small Tempest thought she'd imagined it. "In the background. For years now."

She stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"You heard him," Dima answered. "You've stumbled into something that is bigger than all of us. Years of planning has gone up in smoke in a matter of months with you on the scene."

Tempest blinked slowly. She'd never considered that her uncles might have a plan of their own. How was she so blind? Over the past few months, in her haste to deem them traitors and monsters, she had underestimated their abilities as Hounds. Then again, she'd had more reason to believe them loyal to the Crown than not.

She ran a hand over her face and placed her head in her hands. For every layer she peeled back, more were revealed. The Hounds were essentially prisoners in gilded cages that were afforded status and luxury beyond what most people in the kingdom could hope for. They were respected. They were loved. They were feared. Yet they were prisoners nonetheless, stripped of their own choices and freewill.

Hounds work from the shadows. Darkness is our ally.

Just like the Jester. Like the Dark Court.

Then the similarity of what the Hounds and rebels were both trying to accomplish sparked a dangerous idea. If both sides were working in the shadows, then why not work with the shadow puppeteer himself? While she didn't want to put her uncles in more danger than they were already in, they were all dancing on the edge of a sword already. Hell, they'd been putting their lives on the line every day for only God knew how long.

You are the link between the Dark Court and the Hounds. Use it.

"What would you say if I told you that I could provide you with more people? Ones that would escape the king's notice."

Madrid cocked his head, his gray eyes scanning her face. "I would say that you've been busy. Just what are you getting at, Tempest?" The tone of his voice suggested very much that he did not like what he thought she was about to say.

She took a deep breath. "What if I said I could put you in touch with the rebellion. With… the Jester?" Tempest waited a moment for her words to sink in. No one moved, or even seemed to blink.

"He's alive?" Madrid said softly.

"There's always someone to take his place in the Dark Court," she said evasively.

"Ties to the Jester." Maxim chuckled. "You've been busy, lass."

"Not much of a choice."

Dima rolled his neck. "How is it that you managed to get yourself tangled up with the Dark Court when we've made sure you were kept away from all this while growing up? You're a bloody magnet for disaster."

An impish smile came to her face at the exasperation in her uncle's tone. "The fact that you raised me should be answer enough."

"You think they will work with us?" Aleks asked, turning to Madrid.

The stoic man studied Tempest, and she straightened under his scrutiny. "I think there will be rifts, but it could be possible," Madrid said.

Her attention turned to Aleks. "The drugs stop now."

He held her gaze. "I've long since stopped brewing them. Once my discovery was made, the king seized my work and sent it out to his agents. It's no longer in my control."

Did Pyre know? "I can't guarantee anything from the Jester."

Maxim smirked. "We raised you better than that. No daughter of ours will take no for an answer. This isn't just about Dotae, but Heimserya as a whole." Her uncle eyed Madrid. "What say you?"

"I still think she should leave." Madrid started toward Tempest, reaching out a hand before deciding against touching her. "But I don't think that's in the cards for you, is it?"

"I won't abandon those in need."

Madrid shocked her by smiling slightly. "Then, it seems, the choice is made." He bowed his head and dropped to his knee.

Her mouth gaped as her uncles followed suit.

"We pledged ourselves to the Crown. My lady, soon you will take up the mantel. Our swords are yours." The air rushed from her lungs as Madrid lifted his head. "Welcome to war, daughter of ours."