Page 26

The air in the bustling market square turns chill, suddenly charged with a different kind of tension, cold and sharp.

My heart lurches from the sudden, fresh loss of Zenthris.

His abrupt disappearance leaves a gaping hole of unanswered questions.

My resentment for the princesses who’ve invaded my rare happy mood is as much a wound as his abandonment.

Vae might be ahead of the rest, but her cluster of courtiers and princesses descend upon my table in due time.

Their silk gowns rustle, an ill wind carried beneath those skirts, their laughter tinkling, broken glass driven deep into my ears.

But their eyes, those sharp, assessing eyes, are fixed on me like vultures on carrion they’re dying to pounce upon.

They forget that I’m the predator here.

“My goodness, your friend left in a hurry.” Vae flashes me a hard smile as her collective titter in response. Tiny birds cheep while a cat prowls. Her smile doesn’t quite reach her icy blue eyes, which glitter with an undeniable malice.

Correction, they are birds. She’s a rat.

“Are you following me?” I sit back, crossing my legs, looking her up and down. “One would think you’d be pursuing other matters in the Citadel. I understand Chancellor Hallick’s knowledge is…extensive.”

She stiffens. If she didn’t guess that I knew before, it’s very clear to her now.

“We thought we’d venture out,” she says with forced brightness.

“Not exactly the Citadel’s gardens, is it?

” She gestures vaguely at the bustling market, her lip curling imperceptibly, a subtle gesture of disdain.

Why is she even speaking to me? There’s something going on behind those icy eyes, some task she’s compelled to complete.

Her false attempt at connection is offensive.

She doesn’t think me that stupid, does she?

On the other hand, has she heard I spent time with Altar last night and is now digging for information? That I will believe.

“I like it here,” I say, sipping my cider.

“One could certainly understand why,” she says with a sly wink.

“I see you’ve been… entertaining yourself.

A rather intriguing companion, too. Handsome devil.

And you were certainly in close communion, from what little I glimpsed.

” Her eyes gleam with malicious amusement, like shards of ice catching the light.

“Tell me, Remalla, was he the same man I saw you dancing with at the ball? The one you disappeared with?” The question hangs in the air, a thinly veiled accusation, laced with venom.

She’s fishing. Looking for her own blade to use against me, her question the threat she means it to be. Too bad for her that I don’t care who knows who I take to bed with me.

Still, I say nothing. Let her think otherwise. Though I now realize I need to tell Atlas about Zenthris, if only to ensure she doesn’t do it first. It’s only fair, even if I have turned down his marriage proposal.

Her anger rises against my carefully cultivated indifference, her jaw tight. My silence is a wall against her prying, a refusal to give her the satisfaction of a reaction or information. It’s satisfying to know that, unlike her, I have no regrets.

How pathetic it must be to be Vae of Sarn.

Vae’s smile returns, her voice takes on a harder edge, stripping away the last pretense of politeness.

It’s a low, controlled tone, layering thinly veiled disdain beneath outwardly polite barbs.

“A warrior of few words, as ever. But some things, my dear, speak for themselves. Dallying with unsavory characters in the city, it’s hardly becoming of a prospective royal bride, wouldn’t you agree?

Especially when you are here specifically for his pleasure, and his pleasure alone, until he makes his choice.

” She pauses, letting that hang in the air like some kind of triumph.

Should I take notice? “Meaning?”

She’s smart and sly, but she’s terrible at hiding her true feelings. “My dear,” she says, leaning in, “surely you know the rules. That any princess who allows another to touch her before the Overprince makes his choice forfeits her position and the option to wed.”

I hadn’t known that. “How interesting,” I say. “A very important point to note. Thank you, Vae.”

She’s holding it over my head. So, I won’t hold it over hers. Thinking she has the counter to my eyewitness account of her interaction with the Chancellor. But it’s more than that. The faint desperation in her eyes… is that a peace offering?

“Do be back in time for dinner,” she says. “We’ll all miss you if you’re late.”

It is. The other princesses gape, hurt by Vae’s request. They seem confused, but continue to follow along, though they are clearly out of their depth.

I smile. The imagined scent of accusation against me? Unproven as it is, is nothing to the shame that clings to her. I manage a casual shrug, a feigned indifference that costs me nothing and might gain me something. It’s worth a try. “I’ll do my best.”

Vae’s eyes narrow slightly. She leans in, closer still, until her sweet perfume is suffocating me and her lips are by my ear.

Her voice is a low, chilling purr meant for me alone, a razor’s edge cloaked in silk.

“I know you think I tried to have you killed. Trust me, if I wanted you dead, it would happen. Like that.” She snaps her fingers near my other ear.

“Don’t ever think such a clumsy, private attempt at drowning you in the baths is all I intend.

Oh no. My vengeance will be far more grand, far more satisfying.

It will be public. It will be humiliating.

It will be slow, delicious, and witnessed by the entire court. A message, not just a common death.”

Not making friends then, good to know.

She has confirmed what I already guessed, though. Her vengeance, if carried out over my literal dead body, will be theatrical, a spectacle. Whoever tried to kill me, it wasn’t Vae.

I nod.

She retreats, smiles. “Very well then,” she says brightly, turning to the other princesses. “Shall we return to the Citadel?”

They saunter off, a spectacle as they go, while I frown over my cider. I believe her. More than likely, that crosses the rest of the princesses off the murder list, too. Vae’s far too controlling to allow any of them their own revenge before she gets hers.

It wasn’t Zenthris. Kell? The hulking drakonkin is certainly strong enough. But could he slip into the princess wing without being noticed and then out again?

Maybe. They’re not the most attentive lot. Whatever the truth, my unknown attacker remains at large, likely lurking in the shadows of the palace. And, I must admit, are equally as dangerous as I am.

It rankles, but it’s true, and I’m better off saying it, being honest. I can’t face something squarely without being truthful. But that person is also ambitious, but far more subtle and insidious than Vae. They could be anyone.

No. The list is short. And now Amber of Heald is on it.

I don’t want her to be. She’s been here for me since I arrived. But those hands, that touch. I knew her. Yes, her. A woman tried to drown me.

Why would Amber want to kill me?

I’m glaring into my empty cup, lost in thought, only the prickle of a shift in the air making me surface from the depths of my darkening thoughts.

I look up to find that a profound hush has fallen over the market square.

The bustling noise of the city seems to die, muted, replaced by a ripple of murmurs, a collective intake of breath from the surrounding crowd.

Then, the ground begins to tremble faintly beneath my feet. A low, resonant rumble, growing steadily louder and nearer. It might be mistaken for thunder as it echoes back from stone walls, but I know better.

My bones vibrate in time with the slowly emerging thud in time that breaks from the steady, growing roll to a relentless four-hooved gait. I’ve heard it on battlefields, shaking the very earth as it does now, and I know what it means.

It’s the sound of a large contingent of heavy cavalry, moving at speed.

A moment before it appears, the crowd parts, a wave of people instinctively drawing back, creating a sudden, gaping avenue through the previously packed square.

They press against the stalls, their faces a mixture of fear and awe as a wave of riders pounds to a halt in the market.

She rides at their head, of course, in full armor and her crown woven into her braided hair, dominating the square, a fierce, imposing figure on a massive warhorse. His shoes strike sparks from the cobblestones, his powerful muscles rippling as Queen Jhanette of Heald raises her fist.

Meets my eyes.

The cavalry division stops dead at her command, to a horse.

She’s staring right at me, smiling. How did she know I’m even here?

Spies, Mother, really? Her armor, her favored plate over leather, gleams under the midday sun, battle-worn but regal.

The purple and gold banners of Heald snap proudly in the breeze behind her, the queen’s crown larger than life upon it.

She dismounts, and the entire square sways like wheat waiting for the scythe before this force of nature.

I’ve spent my whole life under her attention, and even I’m impressed.

I’ve been away too long, it seems, sighing at her unspoken aura of raw power and unyielding ambition.

Her very presence resonates in the stones beneath her feet as she tosses her reins to the ground, her mount locking in place.

I’ve been hoping for a way out of this. I knew time was short to do so.

And now, it seems, that time has finally run out.

My mother is here.