Chapter 8

Alarge candelabra douses the room in a warm glow and the smell of softening beeswax. The springs of the swivel chair squeak as I kick back and forth, tucked amongst a fluffy throw, gaze cast on the drawing spread across Rhordyn’s desk.

I trace the slants of the streets etched on the paper with poised precision. Study each shadowed line.

I can’t bring myself to look at his bed again. That morning was packed full of so much potential. I could feel it prickling my skin, kissing my lips with phantom hope, pouring into my lungs with every breath. I could taste it in the fruit he fed me; in the water he left on the bedside table.

It was in the casual way he’d dressed, like he was paring back one of his many hard layers, giving me a glimpse of a softer side.

He was trying.

And I …

I was too lost to see.

Zali drags her spoon along the bottom of her bowl, and I catch another hint of chowder in the air. A chill scurries through my veins, and I tuck deeper into the throw, swallowing, my tongue still stained with the acrid residue of my own regurgitated serving.

“We need a plan,” she says, setting her empty bowl on the floor beneath the window she’s leaning beside, pulling the curtain back to peer out on the gloomy street below. A simple, dark blue tunic and black leather pants cling to her shapely curves, her sodden cloak hanging on a hook beside the door.

“We?” I croak, and she looks at me, dropping the curtain, her eyes sparkling like amber jewels in the flickering candlelight.

“You and me. We.”

I frown. “I … You don’t hate me?”

A brow hikes up as she crosses her arms and leans against the wall. “Do you want me to?”

I stab my stare at the drawing again.

Yes.

Rhordyn was close to getting the ships her people so desperately need, and I killed him. Killed hundreds, maybe thousands of her people with that one faithless strike.

But that tiny, two-letter word sits inside me like a rib notched into its rightful place. Like an antidote I wasn’t aware I needed until this moment.

We …

I need her hate. Deserve it. But I think …

I think I want her friendship more.

“You’ve taken out the most formidable man on the continent.” I look up, catching Zali’s blunt stare. “Cainon has the advantage, and his father was always one step ahead. I doubt the apple fell far from the tree. Whatever grand tapestry he’s been weaving before your eyes, you need to assume it’s laced with the threads of his own motivation to gain political traction.”

I think back to the conversation we had in the Unseelie burrow, then flinch away from the poisonous thought.

Was I really that naïve?

Has he been using me as a pawn this entire time, wielding me into his own personal assassin?

Hot, noxious shame flares my cheeks, chasing away the remaining drabs of my caspun-induced chill.

“The Vruk raids are getting worse, and Rhordyn was one of the few actively cutting them down,” Zali continues, making bile blaze up my throat. “Without him, there will be more casualties, more villages wiped out across Ocruth and Rouste. So what’s our plan?”

“We still need the ships …”

“Yes.” She shoves off the wall and begins to pace the room, her black knee-high boots clapping against the floorboards with each restless step. “I take it Rhordyn didn’t work out where they’re docked?”

“Not that I’m aware. Can’t you send a sprite out there to hunt for them?”

“No,” she murmurs, then plants her hands on her hips and tosses her stare at the ceiling. “The winds are too steep.”

Letting the blanket drape down my shoulders, I reach forward and pluck the parchment off the table. I open the desk drawer, find a pottle of glue, and use the stubby brush attached to the lid’s underside to swipe across the back of Rhordyn’s drawing.

Casting my gaze on the map that dominates the wall, I trace the streets like the threads of my thoughts—knotting, intertwining, clashing. Following the steps I took to get here.

From the moment I boarded that ship, I fumbled through the world like a newborn foal. I fed on freedoms that went against the grain of everything I’d hoped to achieve. I was sightless, gullible, impulsive.

I promised so much and gave so little, then I tried to bow out.

No wonder Zali slapped me so hard.

I’m a selfish person with no shoes and no sense of the world, leaving a trail of destruction, self-detonating because my own actions hurt.

My stomach roils, the vision before me becoming smudged from unshed tears.

This mirror … It’s relentless. Sickening.

Sobering.

I look at the drawing again—unfinished, just like the story of us. A tear streaks down my cheek as I set the parchment on the wall in its rightful place and pat down the edges.

Living a cloistered life has led me to be so easily swayed, whether by Rhordyn’s silence or Cainon’s noise. But it’s time I learned to think for myself.

It’s time I grew up.

Another chill slips through me, making my teeth chatter, but I clamp them down, dash the tear from my cheek, and continue to trace the streets—a skeletal web beneath the busy world above.

I stretch my instincts, trying to see if any of them ache when I give them a firm tug.

There is no voice telling me to run. Nothing screams for me to turn my back and take the easy route. Instead, something’s niggling at me. Urging my gaze to chase the tunnel that dips beneath the palace before threading across the bay.

“I need to go back,” I murmur, wondering if that’s the tunnel I’ll eventually break into once I crack through the wall in the tapestry hall. “Keep Cainon occupied while you continue Rhordyn’s hunt for the ships. There’s a bunch of men downstairs he smuggled into the city who can sail them once they’ve been secured—”

“Orlaith, no.”

I spin my chair, clashing with Zali’s wary stare. “Are you in a rush to get back to your territory? If you need to go, that’s fine. I can come up with another plan.”

Her eyes harden. “My regent is more than capable of watching over my people while I work to secure their future. That’s not my concern.”

I’m pushing tendrils of hair off my face when her gaze drifts to the burn on the inside of my wrist, now a popped, weeping wound of angry, raised flesh.

I smother it with my hand.

“I made a promise,” I bite out. “I have to follow through. It’s the only way we can secure the ships without inciting a territory war we both know will cost Rouste and Ocruth dearly.”

She stalks forward, slamming her hand on the desk. “You’re willing to give yourself to a man who bartered to possess you? Really?”

My cheeks flame.

She shakes her head, upper lip trembling, eyes glazed with unshed emotion. “No,” she snarls. “Get your teeth out. Bring him to his fucking knees if you have to. Anything is better than going back to that man and offering yourself on a golden platter. Pretending to be his when we both know you’re not.”

The words stab that raw, tender wound, making me want to buckle around it.

Don’t cry.

“You said Ocruth is mine,” I rasp. “That implies it’s mine to protect in any way I see fit.”

A clipped nod. “Correct. But you’re in a boa den, Orlaith. You’re one wrong move away from getting bitten.”

She slams the statement down like a stake, making me flinch.

“By coupling with you, he automatically becomes your consort. Then he’s one unforeseen casualty away from having full control of Ocruth.”

The unsaid word lumps between us like a tombstone.

Me.

“Not to mention governing over fifty percent of the continent’s land mass, the largest fleet in all five seas, and the largest army these lands have ever seen. The majority of Rhordyn’s militia are currently stationed at Quoth Point. If they were to suddenly answer to Cainon, they’re a wave of deadly force painfully close to my borders. My people.”

“I don’t intend on sealing our coupling,” I admit, hewing my messy, selfish truth from where I’d tucked it away. “I’ll climb out of that stupid bowl and complete the ceremony as promised. I’ll buy you time to find the ships. To seize them before he has a chance to bed me and realize he’s not the first …”

Zali blinks, all the color dropping from her cheeks. She straightens, and a lengthy silence ensues, battered only by the churn of breaths as we hold each other’s stare, unblinking.

“Who?”

“I didn’t catch his name,” I say, and something glazes her widening eyes—a look that suggests she’s starting to realize the vast scope of my self-destruction. Unfortunately, this grave I’ve dug for myself is so deep, the only way out is to dig down and pray I emerge on the other side.

Her eyes soften the slightest amount. “Orlaith, this is a suicide mission. If Rhordyn knew—”

“Rhordyn’s not here,” I blurt, chest heaving with the smoky residue of words still blazing between us. I don’t want to think about Rhordyn. Thoughts of him make my spine as weak as my broken heart, and I can’t afford to be weak right now.

Zali lifts her chin, and again, her eyes glaze with something I can’t quite put my finger on. “As your political ally, I can’t support this.” I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off. “Assuming Cainon’s aware that Rhordyn and I were yet to seal our coupling, there’s no saying he wouldn’t murder you the moment he finds out Rhordyn’s gone. Ocruth would fall into a vicious civil war as its Low Masters and Mistresses battle for the silver throne. A territory at war with itself is vulnerable, and Cainon’s recent plays prove he’s suspiciously trigger-happy.”

Fuck. She’s right.

There would be a bloodbath over Rhordyn’s seat of power.

I swallow the rising lump in my throat as she stabs her finger at the tabletop. “We must keep Rhordyn’s death a secret until we’ve found somewhere else to pin the blame. Until you’re safely out of this territory and at no risk of being slain for the sake of your inherited throne.”

“So … what are you suggesting?”

“Rest, drink, eat,” she’s quick to respond—three pelted words that itch my restless soul. “Keep out of sight until I’ve done some digging and we’ve had a chance to thoroughly think this through. Stand in front of that window when the sun comes up and get some damn sunlight because you look like death warmed up.”

“That sounds an awful lot like my life at Castle Noir.”

“Then it should be easy,” she quips, a sparkle in her eye.

I drop her gaze and draw deep, feet tingling with a restlessness I can’t shake. The need to shove forward andmove.

To atone.

I glance at the window. Release a shuddering breath.

Zali’s right. We need time to think this through.

“Okay,” I finally concede, the word poison on my lips. Because it’s not okay—not at all. I’m utterly responsible, yet helpless to fix anything. The feeling clings to me like a sticky goo I can’t scrub off.

Relief softens Zali’s brow, but my mind continues to swirl so fast my gut cramps, thoughts tunneling to places I don’t want to look.

Don’t want to see.

Don’t cry—

“There’s a woman downstairs with white hair who seemed to be in charge. Cindra. She made me eat the chowder,” I rasp, barely able to stop myself from dashing to the latrine and having another go. “She might be able to help us.”

“I’ll have a talk with her when I leave you to sleep. She’s a Warrior General of Ocruth and one of Rhordyn’s trusted few. She was keeping contact with Baze as we made our way south.”

My heart lurches, and I’m forced to grip the desk to steady myself. “You’ve seen Baze?”

The words come out choked.

“Yes.” She tips an empty wooden rubbish bin upside down and sits on it, back to the wall, legs crossed at the ankle as she works her long, damp hair into a strawberry braid. “He was with me until we reached the border and I met two of my most trusted escorts. I left him at the outpost staring down a barrel of wine.” Her brief pause gives me a chance to swallow the thickening lump in my throat as she flicks me a knowing stare from beneath heavy lashes. “I ordered him to stay out of Bahari.”

An image flashes in the forefront of my mind of Cainon trussed up against the wall in Stony Stem, held in place by a dagger pressed to his throat, a drip of blood bubbling at its tip.

I should have your head for that, boy.

That slither of scalding darkness coiled inside me unravels like a loosening knot, and a shiver crawls up my spine one vertebra at a time.

“Good.”