Page 4 of Her Cruel Redemption (The Dark Reflection #3)

Chapter Four

I was sure to be dissatisfied, but as I walked, I couldn’t help fingering the sharp prick of anticipation that this time would reap some kind of reward, some new information. I knew it was unlikely, but the anticipation was there all the same.

The guard at the door wasn’t surprised to see me. He opened it as soon as he caught sight of me, already aware of where I was heading, and his eyes stayed fixed firmly on the ground as I passed. I walked into a brightly-lit tea room, the apartment of some aristocrat who no longer had use of it after they fled the city. Luxurious. Well-appointed. Kept warm and clean. The woman staring at me from her position seated by a tea table didn’t seem to appreciate that fact, though. She looked as carefully constructed as ever, her blond hair pulled back in an immaculate bun, not a strand out of place, and her cream-coloured dress without crease or blemish. Her expression was arranged just as deliberately, her mild eyes showing neither fear nor anger.

‘Good evening, Leela,’ I said as I took my seat at the table. ‘Are you well?’

‘Quite well, Your Majesty,’ she said, as she did every evening, right before she poured tea that neither of us ever drank. I didn’t trust her not to poison me. She was too busy watching my every move to take a sip.

‘Are you comfortable?’ I asked, to which she would reply that she was, and we would tread the same tired old script from there.

‘I am.’

‘Has anyone treated you poorly?’

‘No.’

‘Are you being given enough to eat?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you need more books or paper?’

‘I’m satisfied with what you’ve already given me, thank you.’

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’

‘Perhaps some more time outside?’

‘I can arrange that.’

‘And my freedom.’

She always made that request. I respected her for trying. ‘No.’

We stared at each other over the steam of our untouched tea.

‘Have you been receiving your mail?’ I asked slowly. Two letters this week. One from her parents and one from her sister.

‘Yes.’

‘You know you could reply to your letters if you chose to. I would have them delivered.’

‘Yes.’ She never did. She had a fresh stack of paper and a set of wax seals on a table by the window, where they sat untouched.

‘You could tell your family where you are. Reassure them you’re alive.’

She didn’t respond.

The silence stretched. She would wait until I broke it, would weather my scrutiny with that same serenity that she carried through all our interactions, like she was made of something not quite flesh. If I touched her with magic and read her emotions, I'd find wisps of the anxiety I couldn't see on her face. As always, I wondered what I might find if I broke into her mind, wondered what answers I could glean. Toyed with finally giving in and trying. But I was nothing if not unyielding when I'd set my mind to something, and in this matter, I had long since made a decision. I wasn't going to break my own rules out of simple frustration.

Finally, I couldn’t withstand the itch to ask any longer. ‘Have you heard from your mistress?’

A small frown appeared between her brows, though she would have been expecting the question. I asked it every day. It was the main reason I was here.

‘No,’ was her reply.

I nodded, as though the answer didn’t make me clench my jaw.

‘Why do you visit me?’ she asked suddenly. A variation in the script. ‘You’re checking everything that comes in and out of this room. You’d know if she’d contacted me.’

‘Do my visits make you uncomfortable?’

She didn’t answer the question. ‘She’s too clever to be caught out sending messages to me,’ she said instead. ‘I’m of no use to you.’

‘That’s not true, Leela. When she knows I’ve got you, she’s going to want you back. You’re a fine piece of leverage.’

‘Perhaps. Or perhaps it’ll just make her angry.’

‘I hope it does.’ I picked up my tea and sipped it. She blinked in surprise. When I placed it back on the saucer, I studied her, reading her pinched expression, trying to measure something there. The answers to questions I wouldn’t ask. ‘I hope she’s so angry that she makes a mistake. I hope she’s so angry that she makes contact. I hope she swoops in and tries to rescue you.’

There was another long silence.

'I knew she'd made a dangerous choice in marrying you when I saw you in that sanctum, you know,' she said finally. Her tone remained mild, and she was studying me with her head tilted slightly to the side. ‘There was something in the way you looked at her that was…’ She shook her head, seeming unable to find the words. ‘I warned her, but I never would have predicted everything that has followed from that day. I’m glad she’s away from you.’

‘I never hurt her.’ The words were icy, sharp, and out before I could think better of them. Leela shrank away a little, fear suddenly flashing in her eyes. I took a slow breath, my fingers twitching into a light, tapping rhythm against the tabletop. ‘Though, she stabbed me, so maybe I’m the one you should have warned.’

That frown coiled. Her hands were clenched in her lap, hidden below the table, but I could tell she was twisting them. ‘What are you going to do with her if you catch her?’

I finished the rest of my tea and stood. ‘Not your concern. Just know that I will.’

‘You realise she isn’t going to forgive you for all you've done just because you've so civilly sat at tea with me every day while you've held me captive, don’t you?’

I stiffened, felt my jaw lock, my eyes narrowing in on her mild face. But I only nodded in goodbye. ‘Until tomorrow.’

Lester was waiting form me just outside the door. Even swathed in palace luxury, he looked dishevelled, his chin lined with patchy stubble and blond hair flopping into his eyes.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You know, I’d never taken you for a tea enthusiast, but here I find you every single day. If you were even half as committed to anything on that big old list of responsibilities I keep hounding you about, we might have won the war by now.’

‘If I wanted a nurse maid, I wouldn’t pick you, Lez.’

‘I bet you’d pay more attention to me if I had big milkers, though, ey?’

I ignored him, making to stalk past him and down the passageway, but he only fell into step behind me.

‘I would have thought all the executions would have been a proper vent for whatever cloud of thwarted plans you’ve got following you around, but obviously not,’ he continued. ‘Though if you want to give it another crack, one of the raider crews caught another handful of druthi trying to stow away on a ship to Oceatold. They’ll be here tomorrow for sentencing.’

‘Did they have anything on them?’

‘Nothing exciting. A few books, blood powder, weaving kits. One of them was a master in the keep, though.’

‘Preserve the master for questioning. The others can burn.’

‘Done. We just got the final estimation on the numbers that have passed through that dungeon from the records we found, so a few executions might be a good avenue for expelling some rage. And speaking of rage, Vidricto’s flouncy ambassador is still waiting for a reply to take back to Yaakandale. It would be nice if you’d give him one so he can get out of my hair, because for some reason when people can’t get you to do what they want they come and harp on about it to me.’

We passed through a set of open doors into an inner courtyard that admitted little of the afternoon sun. Walls were too high, the thick golden hour barely touched the peaks of the roof, and the cold hand of evening already had its grip on the air. ‘What about Creatia?’

‘What about them?’ Lester kept pace, moving to walk beside me now that the space allowed, his footsteps barely audible. He’d always moved quietly for someone who seemed like he shouldn’t. When we were halfway across the courtyard and I still hadn’t taken the bait, he rolled his head in my direction, mouth popping open in exaggerated shock, deciding to proceed without my participation. ‘Oh, you mean that Creatia? The ones who’ve been locked in a meeting room with the Morwarians and the Yaakandale delegation and representatives of the whole bloody alliance while you’ve been fuck knows where? I’d assumed you didn’t even know about them. Because if you did, then you would be there instead of sipping tea and playing nice with a lady’s maid.’

‘I’ll join them when they figure out what they want.’ I wasn’t going to waste time being trapped in a negotiating room when there were other things more deserving of my attention.

Without warning, Lester stopped dead. It took me a few paces to realise it, and when I did I considered for a moment if I should just keep walking. But I didn’t. I turned to find him standing with arms folded, looking for all the world like he really was my nursemaid about to scold me. ‘Draven, you’ve always been a pain in the ass,’ he began, which seemed an auspicious beginning, ‘but I’ve followed you without question.’

I arched a brow. ‘Without question?’

‘Well, with some questions,’ he amended. ‘You do make some bloody stupid decisions sometimes, but you’ve always had your priorities right side up. There was reason to the way you did things. Lately I’m not feeling that’s the case.’

‘Are we going to have this same conversation every day?’ Every time he raised the topic he acted like it was the first time he’d mentioned it. It was wearing thin.

‘Maybe we wouldn’t have to if it started sinking in. The others are getting nervous. You know how they like to talk. Khatar’s the worst of them all. For a weather-beaten old fish, he gossips like a milk maid, and I know he’s getting in people’s ears about how this war has lost its focus because you’ve lost yours. I just want to know you’ve still got your finger on the pulse. You’re supposed to be the bloody king and you’re traipsing about the countryside chasing ghosts.’

I took a few steps towards him. ‘I’m not chasing ghosts.’

He held my eye. ‘It’s been three months. Wherever she’s hiding, it’s a nice and tight spot and she’s not gonna be sticking her head up anytime soon. Maybe you should leave off looking for her so you don’t lose your grip on an entire revolution. Your revenge will keep a few more months.’

Anger was scratching at me for the casual way he spoke of her , like it was all as simple as putting down something I’d unknowingly picked up. And he didn’t even know that the finding of her was not the crux of the problem.

Because I already knew where she was.

‘Your concern is misplaced,’ was what I eventually decided on, leaving aside a dressing down for another day. ‘I’ll pull Khatar and the rest of the Morwarians back into line before we strike Port Howl. We need their ships, but after that I don’t care what they do.’

‘So long as what they do isn’t cutting our necks while we sleep,’ he muttered, frowning. ‘Khatar thinks this is his operation.’

‘Then I’ll remind him that it’s not. Anything else?’

His frown deepened. ‘Yeah, actually. Get more sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot to buggery.’

‘Thanks.’ Seemed as good a time as any to leave the conversation. When I walked away this time, he didn’t follow me. I rubbed a hand over my face, as though his words had reminded me of the gritty sting to my eyes, but that didn’t mean anything else he’d said had landed. I still had no intention of joining the negotiations with Creatia. King Theron had come crawling with his tail between his legs, sending a delegation overflowing with gifts and praise in an attempt to keep us from turning our attention to him. He knew he was in trouble; we had the support of the Republic of Yaakandale on one side of his borders, the Morwar Toth patrolling his coast line, and with Oceatold already fighting us he had little hope of help from that quarter if we invaded. He could decide to strike us first, while we were engaged on another front, but he’d grown up in a world of peace. He knew nothing of war, and he wanted to keep it that way.

So my mind wasn’t turned to worrying about the stability of my empire, whatever Lester’s intention had been. I was thinking about my conversation with Leela. My feet took a path I didn’t need to consciously choose as I ran the word forgiveness through my mind. I’d never repented for the wrongs I’d done. I wondered if she would when I caught her. Almost on cue, the so recently healed puncture in my stomach twinged, a reminder of the feeling of steel slicing through my flesh, the burn and then growing cold as my veins emptied. Lester liked to remind me that she’d run me through cleanly from stomach to back. That she’d almost killed me. I’d like to see her beg for mercy for that. On her knees, eyes glistening as she whimpered.

And then, what mercy would she offer me for what I'd done to her?

There was no longer a guard stationed at this particular door. I didn’t need anyone tracking how often I was here. When I opened it, the chamber beyond warm, curtains open to the evening light. A fire smouldering in a fireplace in the sitting room. The furniture was clean, polished, and the air smelt fresh, even though the only people who ever came in here were the maids.

And me, though I never stayed for long.

I passed through the still rooms, rolling a key between my fingers, not indulging the desire to linger by a window in the dining room and run my hand down the glass today. The final door was always locked, and I kept the key on me at all times. When I stuck the key in, I paused a moment with my hand on the handle before finally pushing it open.

The room beyond was dark and still. The bed a cold reminder. I crossed the room, approached the dressing table. Picked up a hairbrush, remembered drawing it through her hair as she glared at me in the mirror and pretended it didn’t make her toes curl. Started opening drawers, examining pieces of jewelry, pairs of gloves, a fan, replacing them carefully. I moved to the bedside table and opened it to find the letter written to Leela, begging her to leave the city. I already knew every word, knew the dips and curves of the letters, the way she shaped them. There were no surprises here. It was a little crumpled—I’d found it on the floor of the room, drawer still hanging half open from when she’d grabbed the dagger she’d later plunged into my stomach.

Everything was exactly as she’d left it. Except for the shattered glass. I’d cleaned that up myself. No one else was allowed in here.

I picked up a white stocking, rubbed the silk between my fingers. Endured the flash of memory, of a game board and a chase through the cold night, before I put it back. Closed the drawer. Mulled over my growing impatience with biding my time.

Because it hadn’t taken much to figure out where she’d gone.

She'd taken Princess Gwinellyn and fled the palace on the back of a wyvern. Wyverns weren't exactly prolific in these lands, especially not ones who would take a rider. That, and Orym's initial report on seeing a human girl in the Living Valley that had led me to realise Rhiandra had betrayed me in the first place, suggested the princess had already found refuge in the Yawn once. It was likely that was where they were hiding now. Going after Rhiandra there would draw complications that I wasn’t willing to entertain. Not yet.

But she would grow tired of hiding. So, I was going to wait. I was going to watch and listen for signs that she was on the move. I was going to prepare.

And then I was going to hunt her down.

What was I going to do when I caught her, Leela had asked me. I was looking forward to finding out.