Page 11 of Artemysia

“A job like that must wrench your soul in more ways than one.” - Delphine

“ T he fate of humanity ? What a drama king,” Throg mutters from where he waited for me outside the stone walls of the war room.

He spends the rest of the walk back to the food hall questioning me about Riev. “Did you know you kissed the king’s best assassin ?

“…What’s the deadliest soldier we have taste like?

“…How awkward will it be on this mission, on a scale of one to ten? Ten being how ruby-red you are now? Does his violence turn you on?”

He loses it, throwing his head back to laugh hysterically.

“Effin’ hell, Throg.”

“We’re not twelve anymore. You can say fucking , Elphie.” His cheeks swell as he tries to catch his breath, but he fails. His unabashed laughter continues to echo down the stone corridor.

He knows there are certain curse words I just can’t say .

I could punch him, but instead, I let him have his effin’ fun and ignore him the rest of the way back.

I don’t want to talk about it. About Riev. About the fate of humankind. And I keep my final conversation with King Galke to myself.

If I say anything, Throg will pick up the tremor in my voice right away. He can treat this as any other mission, but he doesn’t think as far ahead as I do. I don’t need him to. That’s my job, and I don’t want him to worry.

Back inside the food hall, we each fill another plate and find our seats at the table again.

Throg settles back into feasting, though he complains loudly, upset that the ham steaks were all consumed while we were in the war room.

My own thoughts turn to our assignment.

Into Artemysia, the Syf woods. Nothing good can come of this. Even if we made it to the other side, we’d have to survive the return journey. What is on the other side?

Why doesn’t anyone know?

I’m unable to stomach another bite—which for me says a lot. Briefly, I find comfort in the idea of stuffing some pastries into my bag for when I return to my quarters, so I won’t regret not eating more, but I’m trying too hard to mask the tremble in my fingers and the nausea in my gut.

It would be a shame to throw up all this good food right now.

Can I protect Throg in the unknown? Can Throg and I take on Riev and his commander-murdering comrade if there is a mutinous situation? It’s possible Riev only wants to help his friend escape prison.

He knows more than he’s let on about the other side of the forest.

There’s something he doesn’t want King Galke to know, and the king must suspect it.

I trust my instincts. After observing him in the meeting, I’m certain that Riev hides a secret.

Will it get us all killed? He was so adamant about not taking us with him and wanting to select his own team.

I will need to pry whatever he’s hiding out of him if we are all to work together and survive this. No other option is acceptable to me.

He glowered his way out of the war room, sweeping past me, defiant and grim. It must take some special skill to be able to scowl like that.

I wonder what his life is like as a king’s assassin.

A job like that must wrench your soul in more ways than one.

The venom in Riev’s eyes still blazes in my mind on my way back to the Academy. I take a detour to check the clock tower to make sure he locked it after he left.

Upstairs, I’m baffled to find that the berries are gone and everything is tidier than before.

Did Riev clean before he left?

The windowsills and lower beams have been dusted, the cobwebs swept away. My books, stacked by the neatly folded blanket Riev borrowed for the night, are organized alphabetically. I’d never think to do that.

With nothing left to do, I glance out the tower window overlooking the city.

Sweet wood smoke hits my nose as it purls out of the stone chimneys.

I scrub the chill off my arms. It’s deep into autumn now, my favorite season.

Near the king’s castle, Stargazer is densely packed with shops in low buildings and blue-and-white thatched cottages surrounded by small flower gardens.

To the south of the castle, the larger estates of the wealthy are grouped along one particular avenue, but none are higher than three stories, so I still have a bird’s-eye view of their newer, tiled rooftops.

I sweep my gaze east where the Academy lies, then west where the cottages become tiny and cramped but affordable. It reminds me that I need to see my father before I leave.

With my elbows on the windowsill, I take in the city that has been my home for the last ten years, one more time.

One more time, in case it’s the last time I see Stargazer.