Page 28

“Not just Merritt. All of them. So many warriors here, and more sons upon the road to Trilion—killed without a second thought for their families, their Divhs. More still tonight, where the darkness he summoned was targeting the fathers of those fallen warriors.”

“None of them died,” Fortiss points out. “From that perspective, the attack was a failure.”

“It depends on the goal.” I reached for the bread, the fruit, anything to keep my idle hands busy. “If Rihad had simply wanted to sow fear, or renew it, in the hearts of men who had not seen the worst he was capable of, he certainly succeeded there.”

I glance at him. “What did you say back there, to Rihad? Do you know what that name meant? Sahk-whatever?”

“Sahktar,” he says, munching around his own chunk of bread. “And—not at all. But when I said that name, Rihad definitely retreated into himself, blocked himself in. It took a spell of vitality to rouse him back to his normal state. If that’s what normal passes as these days.”

“If he could rouse himself completely, he would,” I tell him again. “He’s still damaged. There’s no other explanation.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, taking a long drink of wine. I press my hands into the steady reassuring wood of the tabletop, willing my fingers to stop trembling

It’s not just the troubling topic that accounts for my nerves, but sitting here alone with Fortiss, quiet in the night.

In all the weeks since the Tournament of Gold, this hasn’t happened.

Whenever we’ve worked together, there’s always been a councilor present, stacks of books and guards.

Villagers with petitions or information to share, runners from the nearest houses with reports of support or fresh waves of criticism and concern.

In all that time, we could have easily stepped away to have a quiet conversation, to share the simple connection that he so easily expresses with his guards and staff.

But he didn’t offer, and I didn’t ask, and the days slipped into weeks.

I focused on my training with Nazar, and he focused on stitching the Protectorate back together.

“What did Tennet say to you?” Fortiss finally asks.

I sigh, grateful for the question that had to come at some point.

“They were warnings mostly. First that we would be attacked, secondly that I would be an agent of betrayal, but whether I was betraying the Protectorate, our Divhs, or the interests of whatever dark force sent the message, I don’t know.

It all ran together, almost like poetry, but with an edge that threw it all out of balance. ”

“I saw that Miriam brought you quill and paper after I summoned the other councilors. You wrote it down for her?”

“I wrote down two versions,” I tell him honestly. I reach into my tunic and pull out a folded page. I offer it to him, but he gestures to the table, still eyeing me closely.

“You don’t trust her.”

“I don’t trust anyone who was that tied up with Rihad, not yet. Do you?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t even know if we can trust Tennet now that this thing’s poison has mixed with his blood. It’s bad enough that I’ve started sampling the magic from the Western Realms. I did so with protections in place. Tennet had no time to protect himself before that attack.”

I frown, poking at the folded-up sheet as I try not to think about Tennet’s eyes as he spoke those strange words to me.

“I don’t know that he was anything more than a channel.

I don’t think he knew what he was saying.

It certainly wasn’t in any cadence I’d ever heard him use up to that point, for all that I’d just met him hours before.

He doesn’t seem to recall anything that he said, let alone understand it.

Right now, he’s mostly concerned with not feeling like he’s been flattened by a sandworm. ”

“I wonder how many other secrets the other houses are hiding. Surely the Tenth and Twelfth Houses are not the only ones who have hit on the idea of lying to save their sacred sons.”

I snort. “Well, to be fair, we’re more cut off than most of the houses.

Most everyone else has reason to come to Trilion, to barter and buy, to share their stories and deepen their connections with the First House.

Up in the mountains though, visitors are few and far between, and it’s easier to sow the seeds of lies and nurture them into a protective hedge. ”

“He seems quite committed to the idea of honoring the contract struck between his father and yours.”

The words are quiet, uninflected, but the tension sparks between us, coiling and dangerous. “A contract that I had no interest in or awareness of, other than to save the honor of my house,” I retort. “I’ve found a different way to do that. So he can find another wife.”

“He could find no one better.”

I blink up at him, startled, and somehow, he’s leaned even closer to me, his eyes flashing dark in the shadowed room, his lips soft as his mouth quirks into a smile. “He kissed you,” he murmurs.

I make a face. “That was no kiss. He knew you were watching him. He just wanted to see your reaction.”

“I think mine wasn’t the only reaction he was interested in.”

“Well, if you were paying any attention, I didn’t kiss him back.”

“I noticed that too.” He’s leaned even closer now, and there’s no mistaking his intent. My heart surges in my throat, my fingers are pressing so hard into the tabletop there’s no doubt they’re gouging the wood, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be. “Why are you trembling, Talia?”

“I’m a liar. And once a liar—always one,” I blurt out the childish maxim, and no one is more surprised than me at these words tumbling out of my mouth.

“You need to know that. I thought you may have killed my brother, and I couldn’t rest until I found who did.

So, I lied to you. And I’ll do it again, Fortiss.

” I swallow. “I’ll lie if I feel I must. “

His gaze captures mine, and where Tennet’s eyes had been hazed and wild, his are piercing and sure as they hold me fast. “You’re not a liar, Talia. You were fighting a battle as one warrior against a legion of enemies. You are mighty and fierce.”

He leans closer, his lips brushing against mine in a soft sweep with each new word. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Strong.”

Warmth spreads through me as he settles back again, and now his eyes take on a heat, an intensity that sends my heart into a nervous jitter.

“You’ve become the person I trust more than anyone in my house who hasn’t pledged his sword to me.

You have stood by me, you brought me my Divh, and you helped me fight Rihad when I was still too blind to see the destruction he had set into motion. I owe you everything, Talia.”

His lips twist into a self-deprecating grimace. “But all I want to do is this.”

He leans toward me slowly—deliberately—but my heart is already galloping. I know what this is. I know what I want. But I also know what this costs.

Fortiss seems not to care. He lifts his hands to either side of my face and pulls me to him.

I go willingly, bending my body to his, surrounding myself with his warmth, his steadiness, his strength.

In his embrace I feel stronger, truer, and the fire that ignites deep in my belly is all the fiercer for having flared once, so briefly, only to be relegated to embers after that period now it threatens to roar between us—consuming me, consuming him—and I revel in the feeling.

This is what I want, I think. What I need.

This connection, this truth. This beating heart pounding so loudly against me that it is the only thing I can hear, even above my own rushing blood and rabbiting pulse.

Fortiss sighs, leaning into me. “Blighted Light and beloved darkness…”

The muttered words rip through my delirium, and I pull back with a sudden gasp, my eyes flaring wide. I’ve heard that line, of course. Once from a man half-dead and fevered, now from one who holds me like I’m everything. Why are they both saying this? Why now?

“What did you say?” I demand. “What was that?”

“What?” Fortiss blinks, his eyes unfocused. Then his gaze suddenly narrows on mine. “What did I say? I didn’t mean to speak.”

“But you did.” With a shaking hand, I snag the parchment page and push it toward him.

He unfolds it now and smooths it out, and I stab the page with my finger.

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve heard those words, from two different people.

Maybe the problem wasn’t Tennet, Fortiss. Maybe it’s me.”

“No, Talia…” Fortiss shifts back to me, lifting his hands, and when I would pivot away much like I did with Tennet, he grabs me and pulls me to him again.

He kisses me soundly, deeply. He kisses me like a drowning man clinging to breath, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish in his arms. That fear isn't just mine, I realize—it's his, too.

But when he pulls his head away, his eyes are swirling again, his breathing rushed. He looks like Tennet did, I realize with a jolt—his eyes, his expression.

“You will never be the problem, Talia,” he murmurs. “Only the solution.”

But as he draws me into a firm embrace, and I hear the frantic pounding of his heart once more, I’m not so sure he’s right.