I had been here for such a short time, but it already felt like a lifetime. Every hour was wrung with fear, and I had to hold back from what I wanted to do more than anything else. The task seemed rightfully mine, as much as love had seemed mine to find all those months ago when I ran from Civica. My destiny now seemed as clear as words on paper. Until one comes who is mightier. A few words with so much promise. Or maybe only a few words of madness.
I took another ribbon from the basket and tied it to a crossbar on the overhead lantern. I had lowered it with the rope so it was within reach, hoping to occupy my mind with something else for a few blessed minutes. Something that took me to a world outside of the Sanctum. But my thoughts kept going back to one thing.
It’s harder to kill a man than a horse.
Was it? I didn’t know.
But there were hundreds of ways, and they all burned within me. A heavy pot swung into the skull. A three-inch knife plunged into the windpipe. A push from a high wall. Every time I passed an opportunity by, the fire blazed hotter, but the desire burned side by side with a different searing need, to save someone I loved when I had let another down so miserably.
If I killed the Komizar, there would be a bloodbath. I had nothing to offer the governors, Rahtan, or chievdars; no alliances, not even a cask of wine to make it worth keeping me alive. My only certain ally on the Council was Kaden, and he alone couldn’t erase the target I would inherit on my back. For now, I didn’t just want to stay alive for Rafe, I needed to stay alive for him. This marriage might not free him, but at least it wouldn’t cut his life short. I would always have that to hold over the Komizar—the fervor would end if he harmed Rafe—a marriage bought us both more time. That was all. There were no guarantees beyond that.
I remembered my conversation with Berdi after Greta had been murdered, not caring about guarantees and thinking I’d marry the devil himself if it offered the slimmest chance to save Greta and the baby. Now it seemed that was just who I would be marrying. I leaned on my window ledge, looking up at the heavens. The gods had a wicked sense of humor.
I tied the last ribbon and pulled the rope to lift the chandelier again. A rainbow of color fluttered overhead, and I wondered what Kaden would think when he saw it. Guilt stabbed at me for deceiving him. He’d already been wronged so completely and fully by nobility like me. Loyalty meant everything to him. I understood that now. What else could one expect from a boy who’d been thrown out by his own father like a piece of trash? I sighed and shook my head. A Morrighese lord. Now, just like his father, I had betrayed Kaden too. On many levels. I knew how he felt about me, and strangely, I cared for him, even when I was angered by his loyalty to the Komizar. There was a connection between us that I didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t the same feeling I had for Rafe, but I knew that with our last kiss, I had led Kaden to believe there was more.
There are no rules when it comes to survival, I reminded myself. But I wished there were. The betrayals seemed never to end. Soon the Komizar would ask me to betray those who had welcomed me, to roll my eyes and fill them with the hope he had conjured, and I was sure it would serve him more than the people.
You will hold your tongue and speak the words I give to you.
I sat on my bed and closed my eyes, blocked out the whickering and stamp of horses far below my window, the clank of gates being closed, the screams of the cook chasing after another loose chicken that wished to keep its head. Instead, I was in a meadow with ribbons blowing from trees, mountains above me tinged purple, rose oil being rubbed into my back, breathing in the sweet scent a thousand miles from here.
This world, it breathes you in … shares you.
Please share me with Rafe. I do this for you. Only for you.
There was a sudden sharp knock at my door. Kaden had left with such disgust painted across his face, I knew he wouldn’t be back so soon, if ever. Was it Ulrix with another order from the Komizar? What would it be tonight? Wear the green! The brown! Whatever I command!
An ugly flash of the Morrighese court shot through me. A different setting, but years of the same orders. Wear that. Be quiet. Sign here. Go to your chamber. Hold your tongue. For the gods’ sakes, Princess Arabella, your opinion isn’t required. We don’t want to hear your voice on this matter again. I grabbed the flask on the chest and hurled it across the room. Pieces of pottery rained to the floor, and I trembled with the truth—one kingdom wasn’t much different from another.
Another knock, this one soft and uncertain.
I wiped my eyes and went to the door.
Aster’s eyes were wide. “You all right in here, Miz? ’Cause I can scoot this fetcher away and come back another time, but Calantha told me to bring him and his cart here, and it’s mighty loaded, but that don’t mean you have to be letting him in your room right now, because you’re looking plenty warm with your cheeks all flushed, and—”
“Aster, who are you talking about?”
She moved aside, and a young man stepped timidly into view. He slipped his hat from his head and clutched it to his stomach. “I’m here to leave fuel for the hearth.”
I looked back over my shoulder at the bin near the fireplace. “I still have wood and patties. I don’t need—”
“The weather’s turning colder, and I got my orders,” he said. “The Komizar says you’ll need more.”
The Komizar concerned about my warmth? Not likely. I looked at him—a rumpled patty clapper—but something about him didn’t seem quite right. The pale brown of his eyes was a bit too sharp. An unbridled energy simmered in them, and even though his clothes were filthy and his face unshaven, his teeth were even and white.
“Calantha told me to come right back, Miz,” Aster said. “Can I leave this fetcher here with you?”
“Yes, that’s fine, Aster. Go along.” She ran off, and I stepped aside, waving the young man to the bin by the hearth.
He rolled his cart into the room but stopped in the middle and turned to face me. He looked at me curiously, then bowed deeply. “Your Highness.”
I frowned. “Are you mocking me?”
He shook his head. “You might want to close the door.”
My mouth fell open. He spoke these last words in Morrighese and had switched tongues without missing a beat. The majority of Vendans outside of the Sanctum didn’t speak the language, and those within—the Council and some of the servants and guards—spoke it with a heavy broken tongue if they spoke it at all.
“You speak Morrighese,” I said.
“We call it Dalbretch where I’m from, but yes, our kingdoms’ languages are almost identical. The door?”
I sucked in a shocked breath, quickly slamming the door, and whirled back to him. Tears sprang to my eyes. Rafe’s friends weren’t dead.
He dropped to one knee and took my hand, kissing it. “Your Highness,” he said again, this time with greater emphasis. “We’re here to take you home.”
* * *
We sat on my bed and talked for as long as we dared. His name was Jeb. He told me the journey into Venda had been a tricky one, but they had been in the city for a few days now. They were working out preparations. He asked me questions regarding the Council Wing and the layout of the Sanctum. I told him every hall and path I knew of, especially those least traveled, and the tunnels in the caverns below. I told him who the most bloodthirsty Vendans of the Council were, and about those who might be helpful, like Aster, but that we couldn’t do anything that might put her at risk. I also mentioned Griz and how he had covered for Rafe, but I suspected it was only as a payback to me for saving his life.
“You saved his life?”
“I warned him about a bison stampede.”
I saw the question in his eyes. “I can’t control or summon it, Jeb. It’s a gift, something passed down through the surviving Ancients, that’s all. Sometimes I don’t even trust it myself—but I’m learning to.”
He nodded. “I’ll nose around and see if I can figure anything out about this Griz fellow.”
“The others,” I asked, “where are they?”
He hesitated. “Hidden in the city. You won’t see them until it’s time. Either Rafe or I will give you warning.”
“And there are four of you?” I tried my best to sound optimistic, but the number said aloud had a gravity of its own and spoke for itself.
“Yes,” he said simply, and moved on as if the odds were a gulf that they would somehow navigate. He wasn’t sure exactly when they’d be ready to move, but they hoped details would be worked out soon. They were still investigating the best way to accomplish their task, and there were a few supplies they were having difficulty acquiring.
“The jehendra in the Capswam quarter has just about every kind of shop there is,” I said.
“I know, but we have no Vendan money, and it’s far too busy there to steal anything.”
I leaned over and felt for the leather pouch under my bed. It jingled as I placed it in Jeb’s hands. “Winnings from a card game,” I explained. “It should buy just about anything you might want. If you need more, I can get it.” Nothing could have given me greater satisfaction than knowing Malich might play a role in our escape.
Jeb felt the weight of the pouch and assured me it would be more than enough. He said he’d remember never to play me in a game of cards. From there, he spoke in gentle positives the way a well-trained soldier would, saying they would be acting as quickly as they possibly could. A soldier named Tavish was the coordinator of all details, and he would give the signal when everything was ready. Jeb downplayed the dangers, but the words he avoided rippled beneath the surface—the risk and possibility that we might not all get out.
He was young, only Rafe’s age, a soldier not unlike any of my brothers. Beneath the ragged clothes and dirt, I saw a sweetness. In fact, he reminded me of Bryn, a smile always tugging at the corner of his mouth. Maybe a sister waited at home for him to return.
I blinked back tears. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I am so very sorry.”
His brow creased with alarm. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Your Highness.”
“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”
He placed both his hands gently on my shoulders. “You were abducted by a hostile nation, and my prince called me to duty. He’s not a man prone to folly. I would do anything he asked, and I see his judgment was true. You’re everything he said you were.” His expression turned solemn. “I’d never seen him so driven as when we raced across the Cam Lanteux. You need to know, Princess, he didn’t mean to deceive you. It tore at him.”
It was those words that undid me, in front of Jeb of all people, a near perfect stranger, and I finally broke down. I fell into his shoulder, forgetting that I should be embarrassed, and sobbed. He held me, patted my back, and whispered, “It’s all right.”
I finally pushed away and wiped my eyes. I looked at him, expecting to see his own embarrassment, but instead I only saw concern in his eyes. “You have a sister, don’t you?” I asked.
“Three,” he answered.
“I could tell. Maybe that’s why I—” I shook my head. “I don’t want you to think I do this a lot.”
“Cry? Or get abducted?”
I smiled. “Both.” I reached out and squeezed his hand. “You have to promise me something. When the time comes, watch Rafe’s back before mine. Make sure he gets out, and your fellow soldiers. Because I couldn’t bear it if—”
He put his finger to his lips. “Shh. We’ll all watch one another’s back. We’ll all get out.” He stood. “If you see me again, pretend not to know me. Patty clappers are not memorable.”
He gathered his cart, tossing a few patties into the hearth box, and flashed me a mischievous smile over his shoulder as he left, glib and cocky, shrugging off the dangers. So much like Bryn. This patty clapper was one I would never forget.