Page 3

S trong arms catch me before the ground can. I open my eyes to a dark, kind gaze glittering beneath a hood as we glide softly to the grass.

“I’m beginning to think you like me rescuing you.”

I blink up towards that warm smile and my throat aches. I lean forward, pressing my head against his broad shoulder. His fingers still around my waist and then move gently up and down my back.

A long meow has me pulling away from him and loosening my grip on the bundle at my chest. I crouch to unravel the General. Nicostratus joins me, looming over him. “Is there anything you need?”

I shake my head and cast a spell to knit the bone correctly. The moment it has set, the cat races off into the bushes and I collapse onto the grass beside the pearl hearts.

“Wait right there.” Nicostratus returns with a blanket and a basket. He pinches crystallised ginger and holds it against my mouth. My lips graze his fingers as I take it, and shivers slink down my middle.

His gaze shutters, and he pulls his fingers back slowly. His sleeve shifts down his wrist along with the wristband I carved, and dark bruises catch my eye. I snag his hand and pull him closer, inspecting the marks on his skin.

I call up herb essences into a swirling green ball in my hand, but Nicostratus stops me. “It’s better you don’t.”

“What happened?”

He shakes his head grimly. “Nothing. Leave it.”

“That’s not nothing.”

He lets out a long breath and gestures to the food. Every single dish is a personal favourite of mine.

Nicostratus plucks a fried mushroom from the platter, his grin widening as he pops it into his mouth. I toy with a baked potato, my gaze fixed on him, silently pressing for an explanation.

“Akilah has been especially helpful,” he says after a teasing wait. I smile softly; he reaches over and clasps a steady hand over mine. “She misses you too.”

I flip my hand under his and slide our fingers together. He swallows hard, and I squeeze gently, aware of his poor wrists. “You’re also adjusting to life here. How are you managing?”

“My brother is protecting me. He has me training cavalry, under our uncle’s watchful eye. My every move is transparent. That’s why I’m still here.”

I look down at his wrists. “Is this protecting you?”

“You have to understand, the royal city is... complicated. Ruthless.”

“I’ve seen.”

His gaze darkens.

“Why doesn’t your brother do more?” I say bitterly.

“For years, Constantinos has downplayed his abilities, quietly solidifying his position. For now, he must let our uncle believe he holds complete control of the military.”

“People are dying in those water wyvern attacks.”

“Trust me, he knows that. But the moment he commands the redcloaks to act against our uncle’s orders, Uncle will know who to purge from the army.”

I glance at the soil I toiled in today. The weeds I removed take on the faces of loyal men. I shiver.

“He must be feeding them his blood,” Nicostratus says, “keeping them under his control and timing their attacks for when Constantinos isn’t around to stop them himself. Undermining the king’s power for all to see. Then conveniently stepping in to save the day.”

My stomach twists sharply. “He’s behind the killing and the saving.”

Nicostratus nods sombrely.

I frown. “When will the king have the strength to face him?”

A sigh. “I don’t know. My brother is... sentimental.”

“What do you mean?”

He closes his eyes. “Our uncle poisoned Constantinos’s mother. She only survives by taking the antidote he provides every month. Leverage.”

“Can’t the vitalians help?” I ask tentatively.

“The antidote runs through the duke’s blood. If she stops taking it, she’ll die within months.”

A loud snap to my right has me whipping my head towards the house—the trellis has torn free of the stone. Another crack has it dropping a few more feet and dangling precariously. I lurch to my feet. “No-no-no. The pearl heart!”

Nicostratus springs up to catch the trellis and a tinny metallic smell fills the air as he uses magic to meld it back to the house. I run around under him catching stray timber before it plummets onto the most exhausting plant in history .

A few minutes later, he’s hauling me out of the flower bed.

He lifts my arm and blows over the scratches there. “Why are you camped out here, anyway?”

I stare grimly at him. “I’m afraid your brother and I have not started off on the best note.”

Nicostratus blinks at me and then the pearl hearts. He laughs. “I’ll tell him about your heroic acts saving the royal feline. I’m sure he’ll go easier on you.”

He’s already settling his hood back over his head. “When will I see you again?” I ask.

He captures my gaze. “I’ll do my best to make it soon. Until then,” he says with a light laugh, and ruffles my locks, “do your best to win my brother over.”

I look at the pearl heart with determination.

* * *

“The king requests the thorns be removed.”

We’re at our daily spot in the garden, me on my tired knees while the gold-sashed liaison tells me things I don’t want to hear.

“Can I change my mind?” I ask. Beg. “I want the caning.”

Laughter hits my back and I swivel on my knees. The liaison inclines his head and leaves, and I slump onto my haunches. Quin settles a hand atop my head.

I look up at him with dawning understanding. “The king... he’s...” I point at him, exhilarated, in complete disbelief.

Quin’s hand slips off me and he nods. “You’re correct—”

I get to my feet, shaking my head. “He must have overheard me talking with Nicostratus.”

Quin stares at me blankly and abruptly walks away.

“Unadulterated cheek.” I’m laughing, but it’s not easy laughter.

I shake a wild, frustrated hand towards the king’s chambers, and begin the arduous task of plucking the thorns off each thigh-high pearl heart bush.

How can I possibly laugh?

I pluck faster. Scratch the tips of my fingers. After I’m done, I find an akla to bring me a large teapot of hot water, and squeeze the syrup out of each thorn. I carry this brew with me around the gardens looking for a quiet spot to reflect on the turbulent punches of laughter that keep erupting from me. I spot Quin headed for the bathhouse, and the sudden need for his harsh criticism overcomes me.

“Quin.” I catch up to him under the shade of pear trees.

He looks at me expectantly, and I lift the teapot, two small cups balancing upside down on the lid like I’d wanted his company all along.

He glances towards the bathhouse, then hesitates.

“It’s meant to sharpen the mind,” I say.

“In that case, you should drink it all.”

He starts moving away, and I halt him by the cane. “Please?”

His eyes search mine. Perhaps he recognises my desperation, because his expression flickers and he turns around. The air swirls as he shifts himself to the sunlight-speckled, petal-covered ground. I sit next to him with my back against the trunk of a tree, the teapot between us. The liquid is syrupy sweet, and it’s only a few mouthfuls before a much-appreciated buzz drifts through my veins.

“Do you ever have feelings you shouldn’t?”

Quin tips the rest of his tea into his mouth and presses his lips into a firm line.

“I’m supposed to hate him. I’ve always hated him. But then, unexpectedly, I come to the royal city and he makes me laugh.”

Quin settles the cup on his thigh and narrows his eyes on it.

“I don’t like myself for how easily I seem to...”

“Forget?” he asks.

“Forgive.” I pour another cup and half the liquid sloshes over the side. “I don’t hate him anymore.” I tip my head back against rough bark and down the drink. “I pity him.”

“Pity?” Quin bites. “Because you understand now that he’s being manipulated? Because he’s weak? Because he’s useless?”

“Yes.”

“How dare you!”

“Isn’t it true?”

Wind whips violently around us and I drop my cup to clutch Quin’s arm before he leaves. “You’re loyal. But you can’t be blind.”

His face whips to mine, our noses almost colliding. His lips twist into a snarl. “Tell me again he’s useless.”

My fingers tighten on his arm. “He’s useless.”

“You—”

“He made me laugh .” My eyes shutter and a knot forms in my throat. “How do I reconcile that?” I open my eyes again to the hard marble lines of Quin’s face, so close. The wind has ceased. “He has to be useless.”

Another laugh lurches out of me and I shake Quin. “I should think on behalf of his people. Should wish that he was useful. Instead, I’m hoping, declaring, he’s not. Just so I feel better about myself. These are the feelings I shouldn’t have, Quin. And yet—”

Quin yanks me into his arms, growling and whacking the back of my head even as he tightens his embrace. “He is useless. He is.”

I freeze—not just at his agreement, but the tremble I feel around me. Quin, the king’s most loyal official merchant, always on his side... is relenting. For me. Even if he doesn’t mean it, this feels like understanding. Like compassion.

We fall out of the embrace and my body feels lighter. Quin picks up our cups, refills them, and we drink again. His lips tip quietly upwards and he shakes his head. He lounges back with yet another cup of brew. From that to this. How sudden, how easy. We clink our cups and sip leisurely this time.

By the fourth round, Quin stares quizzically into his cup. “I believe those thorns are... intoxicating.”

I frown and try to cast a spell; it backfires into my face. “You might be right.”

Quin flicks his hand and my hair drops back to my shoulders. “How did you ever get into the royal city?”

“I don’t mind you, Quin. You’re uptight and moody but it’s pleasantly diverting.”

“This sounds awfully close to a confession of friendship.”

I cast him an exaggerated grimace, and he rolls his eyes.

“But seriously,” I say. “You’re fabulous diversion.”

“Diversion. Wonderful.”

I laugh, light and spirited. “I have no proper foundation. Everything I thought I knew gets proven inadequate. There’s smarter, more streamlined methods, and Chiron is convinced I shouldn’t be here. I don’t even have inner scales to weigh herb spirits properly. If anyone’s actually useless, it’s me.”

He looks at me. Finishes his tea. His lips pull up at one side in thought. “Of course you’re not good enough.”

“You—”

“How could you be? You lack the proper schooling, you have such little spiritual blood, and even less spirit.” I gape at him, my stomach tightening, trying to coil like before but somehow, not managing.

He continues ruthlessly, “You don’t have what it takes to become a medius-complex vitalian. Let alone a complex vitalian.” He shrugs. “Everyone expects you to drop out.”

I slam my tea back.

“Why not quit while you’re ahead?”

I yank his empty teacup from his hand. “I’m only leaving if I complete my soldad or I’m carted out cold and lifeless.”

One of Quin’s eyebrows twitches sceptically.

“If I have to work ten times as hard as anyone else. I will pass all the examinations.”

I pour tea into our cups and some sloshes over my wrist when I shove Quin’s into his hand. His lips curl and I halt, suspicious.

“You wound me up on purpose!”

He raises a hand, brushing close to my face—only to cradle the back of my head, firmer than usual, almost grounding. I glance up, searching his face, but he’s already looking away, his words tight. “How else do you handle a defeatist attitude? You put your life on the line for a chance to become a vitalian.” His hold loosens and he whacks me lightly. “If you don’t have inner scales, weigh outside the box. If you’re not good enough , get better .”

I rub my head as if it throbs, even though it only tickles where he touched it. I scowl.

He sips.

“Speaking of friendship,” I say suddenly, smirking when his head jerks up. “Not ours.”

His gaze commands me to continue.

I clear my throat. “It’s actually one of the reasons I want to attend the spring gala. It’s held on Queen’s Island, and she’s... a friend.”

Quin schools his face again, but a bit of tea sloshes out of his cup.

“Once, we were thick as thieves.”

A long, slow blink. But he doesn’t sound surprised. “Is that right?”

“We used to spend our summers together in Hinsard.” Hinsard. I shake off the sudden deep sad dive my stomach makes and jostle Quin with an elbow to his side. “I am familiar with that city, you know.”

“Scholar Calix Solin of Hinsard.”

The moment he says the name, I shiver violently.

Quin notices, a lingering look at my arm, a slow analysis as he lifts his eyes to mine.

I hurriedly and shakily duck my head into another sip of sweet tea, and Quin stares at me over the rim of his own cup.

He sips, and lowers it, and looks away. “Tell me about you and the king’s wife.”

I choke on my tea. “It’s nothing like that!”

“You can’t be blamed if you liked each other as children.”

“You know me, Quin... that is not possible.”

“Certain truths take time to realise.”

“I never felt that way toward Veronica.” I pause. “Only one person has ever fascinated me.” My stomach twists at this, but I hold my head high. “Definitely only one.”

Quin looks at me, sceptically.

I knock back my drink, veins buzzing. A little laugh slips up my throat. “And that one has fascinated me twice.”

“Twice?”

I stroke my soldad softly. “I was a child the first time.”

Quin takes my cup and pours, right to the brim.

I lounge with it, the tree trunk the perfect support at my back. “Do you want to hear the story?”

“I won’t be begging.”

“Can’t imagine that’s something you’d ever do.”

Quin spares me a contemptuous look as he drinks the tea.

I smirk over my teacup.

His jaw twitches, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he pours another round of tea, and his fingers bump mine as he hands me the cup.