Page 28

MIKAIL

CITY OF RAHWAY, YUSAN

I t’s late afternoon by the time I’ve bathed, dressed, and calmed myself enough to find Fallador.

After making casual conversation with two of the house servants, I learn that Gambria left the villa and the “prince” is in the library.

I find him exploring the shelves but not really reading anything.

Fallador is wearing a western-style cream-colored tunic and brown pants—it’s a good look for him, but he is a chameleon.

Ever blending, ever altering. Does his loyalty change as well?

“Searching for answers?” I ask.

Fallador turns and grins at me, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s bothered by something—Gambria, I assume, yet he’s playing it off as if everything is normal.

“We should take advantage of the beautiful day,” I say in Gayan. “Join me for a walk?”

“I’d be delighted.”

We make our way under the arches and along lavish halls until we step outside onto the massive stone terrace.

This part of the house overlooks the sprawling, manicured gardens, unlike the patio off the eastern dining room that nearly touches the Sol.

The sun shines on the right angles of the hedges, illuminating the elaborately pruned trees.

Two white swans swim in a central artificial pool.

It’s all very symmetrical and rigidly controlled.

Fallador and I stroll the crushed stone paths, staying away from the tall hedges and flowering bushes where servants and spies could hide and overhear us. As I walk with the hidden scepter, Fallador looks away but forces a smile when our eyes meet.

“Something troubling you?” I ask.

He grins. “Oh, just a few things. It’s good to walk with you, though.”

He’s right—it is. We’re honored guests in a place I couldn’t have imagined as a boy. Under other circumstances, it would be a pleasant time.

“I want to apologize for Gambria,” he says. “She found me before she left and confessed what she’d done. I’m grateful to the gods that your friends weren’t hurt.”

I stop and stare at him. “By that you mean grateful Aeri murdered them first?”

He shrugs. “I believed Gambria when she said she never intended it.”

I inhale and look away. This is why I had to wait to seek out Fallador. I knew he’d defend her, and I hardly have the patience for it.

“Love is a cloak that can cover even deeply held beliefs,” he says. “You know this better than anyone.”

I stare at the swans floating in the pool. I’ve heard that these birds mate for life—seems like a much simpler existence. Certainly easier than loving a Baejkin.

“You’re referring to Euyn?” I ask.

“Among other things.” Fallador stops in front of me. “You haven’t spoken of him, you know.”

His eyes are full of concern. Not because he cared for Euyn but because he knows I did.

“There doesn’t ever seem to be the time,” I say. It’s true. This isn’t the time to mourn him. Even now, the sun rapidly moves across the sky, and we need to make our plans. We are constantly in a race against time, gods, and men.

Fallador utters a heavy sigh. “Grief doesn’t wait, Mikail. You loved him, and he is gone. That is a tremendous weight to bear alone.”

I shrug. The weight doesn’t matter when there’s nothing you can do to shake it.

He takes a step closer. “I had Gambria to share the trauma of survival. You were alone by necessity—but you don’t have to stay that way. You can rest some of it with me.”

It’s tempting, and there’s a pull in my chest, my shoulders gravitating to him. Fallador has an almost hypnotic way of speaking, and there’s always been a hint of something there. We always find ourselves a step too close, a glance too long. But is he just a charming fraud?

“I thought I had you and Gambria.” I grit my teeth. The betrayal stings like lemon on a wound no matter how I try to avoid it.

Fallador nods slowly as he stares at the swans.

“She loves someone who cannot return her love. At least not at the depth that could sustain her. Instead of accepting that, she keeps giving more of herself, as if sacrificing all that she holds dear will create enough love for both of them. Like priests to the gods, it is a one-sided affair.”

There’s something in his tone that makes me feel like he’s also talking about me.

Either my love for Gaya or Euyn—possibly both, as he has that way of double-speaking.

Before today, I have always trusted that Fallador was sincere, but I also believed he was the prince of Gaya.

I trusted Gambria, and she turned traitor.

What is he now? What does he truly feel?

Fallador stares at me, then looks away with a frown. “Mikail, what will you do when you’re done fighting the world?”

I breathe out a laugh at the idea of being done. “I highly doubt I’ll survive for long enough to worry about the aftermath.”

He closes his eyes, then reaches his hand forward and brushes his fingers against mine. That spark lights up inside me that I always feel with him. A call toward home.

I think. Things have never been clear with Fallador.

Our hands have just touched when Sora comes storming down the path behind Fallador. There’s something in her shoulders, her walk. She has the same look as when we were aboard the fleet ship and she found out that Euyn hunted her father.

It’s pure fury.

My muscles react faster than my brain. I pull Fallador out of the way just as she slashes at me with a dagger. She catches my shirt and tears it. My arm stings as metal cuts my skin.

“You knew!” Her voice rings out with pain.

She draws back to strike again, sloppy and full of emotion. I don’t know why she’s so upset, but I can’t exactly ask her. I reach out and catch her arm with my hand. I hold her wrist in the air, away from me.

Fallador has regained himself. He takes Sora’s other arm and pins it behind her back. A knife falls out of her hand and clatters onto the ground. I stare at the small blade. It would take a lot more than that to kill me.

“You knew!” she says through her teeth.

I search her face, trying to figure out what would upset her like this with Daysum already dead. I come up empty.

“I legitimately don’t know what you’re talking about, Sora,” I say. “I knew about who? Gambria?”

Her eyebrows knit. Anger leaves her face for a moment, and confusion takes its place. She shakes her head.

“Tiyung,” she says. Those two syllables contain a world of grief.

She crumples, going slack against Fallador and me. He holds her up, puzzlement scrawled across his face as she begins to cry.

“What? What about Tiyung?” I ask.

“He’s dead,” she whispers.

Fuck.