Page 21

“I didn’t do anything,” I tell him. “I merely existed and paid for the sins of my parents. They’re both dead, before you ask. They were rebels against the Saints of Fire.”

“Doesn’t explain how you escaped the convent,” Kjell says gruffly before having another slobbering sip of his wine.

“No, it doesn’t,” I say, leaving it at that while taking another bite of the stew.

Torsten sniffs. “A Daughter of Silence, a daughter of rebels, and a thief for House Dalgaard. Seems a likely path in life.”

“Thief for House Kolbeck.” Andor finally speaks up. Torsten eyes him and a silent exchange passes between them, loaded with meaning that I can’t decipher.

Suddenly I hear growling from behind me.

I turn around in my chair to see Lemi on his feet, tail wagging, as a shaggy-looking wolf dog comes from around the table and approaches him, teeth exposed in a low growl.

“Feral,” Vidar warns him. “Behave.”

I’m not too worried. Lemi is big, even compared to the wolf dog, and a lot of alphas see his size and think they can take him on to prove something. But Lemi has a trick up his sleeve that the rest of them don’t.

Feral barks, ignoring his master, his hair on end, and Lemi bounces on his front legs, ears up and tail wagging, wanting to play.

And play in his own unique way.

Feral lunges for Lemi just as Vidar shouts at him to stop, but Lemi simply disappears into thin air, leaving Feral extremely confused.

And he’s not the only one.

“What in bloody blazes was that?” Steiner yelps as everyone else—aside from me and Andor—lets out gasps of shock.

Suddenly Lemi appears again behind Feral. The wolf dog whips around and Lemi goes low into a play crouch. By now Feral is a little nervous, even taking a step backward.

Lemi barks, loud, the kind of bark where I’d normally tell him to be quiet, but I decide to do no such thing here. Let the Kolbecks be disturbed.

“How did he do that?” Kjell demands, but I pay him no attention.

“Lemi, leave Feral alone,” I warn him. “He doesn’t want to play.”

Lemi ignores me and tries to get closer to Feral, but the dog ends up running out of the room with his tail between his legs.

Lemi is about to follow, but I tell him to stay put. “I’m sorry, boy, he doesn’t want to play with you for now. I’m sure he’ll come around later.”

Lemi looks at me and barks, his tail still wagging.

I sigh and put my napkin on the table, looking at Andor. “I think I should probably take him outside. He might be like this for the rest of dinner.”

“A ploy to escape,” Kjell grumbles.

“Mmmmm,” Torsten agrees. “Andor, you’re going with her. Shame you’ll be missing dessert.”

Andor doesn’t look bothered in the slightest. He gives me a nod, relief on his brow, and we get to our feet.

We quickly leave the room and Lemi trots right beside me.

I barely had enough to eat, but I feel bad that Lemi hasn’t even had anything.

Hopefully Margarelle will have scraps from the kitchen.

“But, seriously, how did he do that?” Steiner asks me, mouth still agape at Lemi’s disappearing act.

Andor gives his younger brother a look that says he’ll explain it all later and then leads me down the hall, past the kitchen, bakehouse, and storeroom, to the very end where there’s a large wooden door beside a staircase.

He pushes it open and we step outside, and I’m immediately engulfed by cool, fresh air and nightfall.

I stop on the gravel path outside the door and breathe in deeply through my nose, not realizing how shallow my breaths were before, how hot I was getting in the dining hall. I feel like I can actually think.

Andor grabs a torch from the wall beside the door and stands beside me as Lemi trots off.

“Lemi,” I call after him as his black body disappears into the shadows beyond the flame.

“He’ll be all right,” Andor says. “There’s a fortress wall around the back here. This is where we have the vines, the orchard, and apparently where the cook’s future vegetable garden will be since Steiner has taken over the current one.”

“He’s a curious fellow,” I comment.

“You can say that again,” he says. “But don’t let his youth fool you; he’s the brains of this family, of the whole syndikat, and I’d argue the monarchy as well.”

I walk toward the faint shapes of trees. I can only just make out their shadows in the dark, but as I step closer I see round fruit hanging from their limbs. I reach up and touch them gently, feeling their weight.

“Apples,” Andor says, bringing the torch closer so that I can see better. “You can’t see in the dark, can you?”

I shake my head, noting how the fruit shines in the light. “Apples were one of the few fruits the higher classes had in Lerick. I never stopped to question where they got them from. All this time there was trade between Esland and Norland.”

“They trade with our neighbors, the territory of Altus Dugrell,” Andor says.

“Many of the inhabitants there worship the dragons instead of the goddesses. One of the many reasons why they split with Norland.” He pauses, seeming to think that over for a moment before he says, “I should apologize for my family this evening. They’re… suspicious of outsiders.”

I laugh. “I can relate. I don’t think your father would have gotten very far in life if he wasn’t.” I give him a sidelong glance. His high cheekbones look carved from stone in the shadowed light. “Besides, I am still your prisoner. I should be grateful that I’m treated as fairly as I have been.”

“ Should be grateful?” he asks with a quirk of his brow.

I give him a quick smile. “I would much rather go back home,” I say plainly, hoping that perhaps he’ll take pity on me and call the whole thing off.

He swallows, the sound audible above the faint chirps of nearby crickets. “You know you can’t leave. I can’t let you go.”

“You almost seem regretful,” I comment, taking my fingers away from the apple.

He reaches over and plucks it off the tree, placing it in my hands. “I’m not a man without regrets,” he says.

“Like pulling a knife on your uncle.” I turn the fruit over in my hands.

His smile is as sharp as that blade. “I only regret not killing him there and then.”

I’m unsure of how Andor fits in with his bloodline—his lenient attitude sets him apart from the Kolbeck dynasty—but every now and then I see the danger in him, the bloodlust beneath the cocky grin. I have no doubt that Andor would kill his uncle if he could.

“And I don’t want to regret bringing you here to work for us,” he goes on. “I think I—we—could give you a better life.”

I glare at him and toss the apple back into the air, making him catch it. “You know nothing of the life I had,” I tell him, walking back to the door and making a clicking noise for Lemi to return.

“But when we get your aunt,” he ventures, his footsteps sounding on gravel behind me, “then you won’t want for anything.”

I stop and face him, anger flaring inside me. “Stop acting like you’re doing me a favor. You just want to use me to get a leg up on the other houses.”

“Then let me use you and it will be easier,” he says, a pleading tone to his command. “For both of us. For all of us. There are more things at stake here than just you and me.”

I hate the idea of being used, a trait passed down through my blood. My parents were very vocal about how the Soffers used the citizens as pawns in their game of religious manipulation.

“Lemi,” I call out, ignoring Andor. “Come here.”

Finally Lemi appears, walking slowly through the rows of orchard trees. He stops and puts his head up, sniffing the air.

“It’s going to rain,” Andor says, heading for the door. “We better get inside.”

My heart leaps. “Wait? Rain? Here and now?”

He pauses and stares at me, his brows coming together. “Yes?”

“Please,” I tell him, unable to keep the whine out of my voice. “Let me see it. Let me experience it. I don’t want to go in yet.”

“Experience rain?” he says, looking up at the clouds. “You’ve never…?”

I shake my head. “I saw acid rain once in the Midlands and took shelter just in time. That was it. I’ve never experienced real rain, not the pure water that falls from the sky.”

He stares at me for a moment, probably thinking I’m backward and crazy. He shrugs. “Then you’ve come to the right place.” He puts the torch back in its holder and leans against the castle wall, watching me curiously for a moment before he looks up at the sky again.

Then I feel it.

A splash of water on the back of my neck.

I look up to see a drop falling from the dark, cloudy sky, and in one slowed-down moment I see the flames from the torch reflected in it, right before it lands on my forehead with a wet splash.

I gasp, unable to keep the awe from my voice, and look at Andor with wide eyes.

“Lonely drops always lead to a deluge,” he tells me, then nods at the sky. “Here she comes.”

And suddenly it’s like the sky tips a barrel of water over, rain streaming from the clouds and engulfing us in seconds. It hits hard, bouncing off my skin, soaking my hair, my dress, and Lemi starts running around in circles, happily snapping his jaws at the air, trying to catch each drop.

I giggle, a high, shrill sound that I haven’t heard come from my own lips since I was a child.

Then before I can stop myself from regressing, I throw my arms out, put my head back to the sky, and start spinning in circles with my eyes closed.

The rain falls and falls and I feel like it’s cleansing me of everything I’ve ever done and everything I have yet to do.

Perhaps this is why the Kolbecks seem at peace with their nature—the constant rain here is always wiping their souls and slates clean.

The Soffers always believe people were purified by dragon fire, but this way seems so much better.

Finally, once I’m thoroughly soaked, I stop spinning. Or at least I try to, but the world seems to go on anyway and I find myself listing over, off-balance and dizzy. Suddenly Andor is there, at my side, his arms around me and holding me up, solid and strong.

I allow myself to keep the joy alive for one more second than I should, and I lean into him. He stiffens, sucking in a breath, but he doesn’t move. His grasp is wet and warm and he doesn’t let up, doesn’t let go of me until I know I need to push him away.

You’re not supposed to enjoy the company of your blackmailer’s arms.

I straighten up and step out of his embrace and see a strange darkness in his eyes, one that both makes me uneasy and intrigues me at the same time.

“Well, I’m thoroughly wet now,” I say, and the way his gaze ignites, along with a lift of his brow, I know he’s thinking of euphemisms now. “From the rain,” I say, clearing my throat. “Shall we go inside?”

He nods, his lips curving into a ghost of a smile before he turns and heads to the door.