The walls closed in, the path seeming to narrow with each footstep. I was led through a dark hall, up two flights of musty stairs, along another hall no wider than arms’ breadth, three turns, then down several steps. The inside of this fortress was as much a maze as it appeared to be from the outside, centuries of architecture mashed together.
This wasn’t the path back to Sanctum Hall. I felt my heart quicken. Where were they taking me now? My hair was still damp on my shoulders, and my bare feet frigid on the cold floor. I memorized my path, certain it would matter at some point. Everything mattered. Every detail. Every flutter of an eyelash. Of all people right now, I longed for Gwyneth, so smooth in all her movements, and so good at hiding her secrets with a smile—except when it came to things she cared about, like Simone. That was when lies showed on Gwyneth’s face. Even now, I was learning from her. Everything I still cared about had to cease to show on my face.
On our last turn, we walked down a drafty passageway headed toward a large double door. Its thick black hinges branched out in tangled thorns. The guards knocked, and I heard the heavy slide of a bolt unlatched within. I was thrown forward because the guards seemed to know no other way of releasing prisoners, but this time I was ready and only stumbled.
I entered a silent room. My gaze fell on Kaden first, his jaw tight, the telltale vein rising on his neck as he took in my new coarse attire. Was it shame or anger I saw flashing through his eyes? But I also noticed he had bathed—and changed. With his Morrighese disguise discarded, he looked like one of them now, an animal of a different stripe. He wore a loose shirt cut in their style, and a trail of bones hung from his weapon belt. This had been the real Kaden all along.
And then I saw Rafe. His back was to me, and his hands were shackled behind him with a guard close at his side. I looked away quickly and settled my gaze on the Komizar instead.
“Perfect timing, Princess,” he said. “Your farmhand just arrived too.” He waved me forward until I was standing near Rafe.
The Komizar still wore the baldrick, and now Walther’s sword dangled from it too. He grinned as I took it in. I molded my gaze to steel. From this moment forward, I would make my brother’s pillaged goods my strength rather than my weakness.
He stepped to the center of the room and threw his hands out to his sides. “It’s a historic day in Venda, my brethren. Not one, but two prisoners.” He still spoke in Morrighese, I assumed for our benefit. I didn’t know if Rafe understood Vendan or not. I cursed myself for not asking when we were in the holding room together. Details like this could matter later on. The Komizar turned his attention to me and Rafe. “I hope you both appreciate your good fortune to even be prisoners. It’s a rare privilege—though it may be fleeting.” His voice was playful, his expression almost cheerful. He walked closer to me, lifted a strand of damp hair from my shoulder, then dropped it with distaste. “I already know why you’re here. A royal with a supposed gift that my Assassin believes will be useful to Venda.” He shrugged. “Time will tell.”
He turned to Rafe. “But, you … tell me why I shouldn’t slice you from gizzard to gut right now and punish the soldiers who didn’t kill you on sight.”
“Because I have news for you that will benefit Venda.” Rafe’s answer was quick and confident.
The Komizar laughed in a way that made the room grow darker. “So I’ve heard.” He walked over to the table in the center of the room and hoisted himself up on it, sitting on its edge with his legs dangling. He looked more like a swaggering ruffian sitting in a pub than a ruler. “Chievdar Stavik told me of your claim,” he said. “But the soldiers tell me otherwise. A smitten farmhand, they call you, and the princess seemed to think you showed up just for her. I understand there was an entertaining embrace.”
“I was a familiar face in a foreign land,” Rafe answered. “I can’t help that the girl latched on to me. But I’m not a fool when it comes to women. Pleasure is one thing; business is another. I wouldn’t show up on a hostile doorstep over a mere summer distraction.”
The Komizar’s eyes flickered to me. I glared at Rafe.
“A distraction,” the Komizar repeated, nodding. “So being a farmhand was only a ruse?”
“The prince sent me to find out if the girl really fled the wedding or if it was a planned retaliation all along, for past grievances. In case you aren’t aware, Dalbreck’s had a long, rocky relationship with our nearest neighbors. Shall I recite the entire history of petty actions perpetrated by Morrighan? However, the king’s offer of marriage was a genuine effort to bury past grievances.”
“And to create an alliance.”
“Yes.”
“To wield more power over us.”
“Isn’t that what every political move is about? Power and getting more of it?” Rafe’s tone was cold, commanding, and unapologetic.
It seemed to give the Komizar pause. His eyes narrowed, and then one corner of his mouth lifted in an amused grin. “You look far more like a farmhand to me than the grand emissary of a prince.” He turned around, scanning the room. “Griz!” he yelled. “Where is he?”
One of the governors informed him that Griz was still in Sanctum Hall, and a guard was sent to retrieve him. The Komizar explained that Griz had seen the prince and his court when he was in Dalbreck at a public ceremony last year. He’d be able to identify Rafe as genuine or fake.
“Do you wish to change your story now? The truth would mean I could get to my evening meal sooner, and I’d be willing to make your death quick and relatively pain-free.”
“My story stands,” Rafe answered without hesitation.
Breathe, Lia. Breathe. I looked at Kaden and tried not to betray my panic, hoping for help. He owed me this. He returned my gaze, his head barely moving, no. I forgot. Venda always comes first. The fear rose in my chest, and I looked at the weapons belted at so many sides, the governors, the guards, the unidentified brethren of Venda. More than a dozen of them filled the room. Even if I were able to disarm one of them and kill another, what chance did Rafe and I have against all of them? Especially with Rafe’s hands chained behind his back. I inched forward and then I saw Rafe flex one hand, a quiet signal. I stopped. The room remained silent, the seconds ticking by torturously, the Komizar seeming to enjoy every one. Then we heard the footsteps, the heavy tromp of a giant coming down the hall.
The door opened, and Griz entered.
“Bedage akki,” the Komizar called and slung his arm around Griz’s shoulders. He walked him over to stand in front of Rafe, speaking in Vendan as he explained Rafe’s claim. “You were at the ceremony and saw the prince and his personal court. Do you recognize this man?”
Griz squinted, studying Rafe. He shifted his footing, looking askance and appearing uncomfortable with all eyes on him. “Hard to tell. It was a large crowd in the square. I was a long way back, but—” He scratched his head, taking a closer look. I saw the recognition in his eyes, and my stomach jumped to my throat.
“Well?” the Komizar asked.
Griz shot me a sideways glance. I stared at him, not breathing, frozen. He looked back at Rafe again, nodding in thought. “Yeah, I remember this one. He was standing right next to the prince, all fussed up in one of them frilly coats. Chummy they were. He and the prince laughed a few times.” He nodded as if satisfied with his recollection and then his scarred brow twisted in a scowl. “Anything else?”
“That’s all,” the Komizar answered.
Griz glanced briefly at me once more before he turned and left.
I tried to let the trapped air in my chest out in an even steady breath. Had Griz just lied for me? Or did he lie for Rafe? There are spies everywhere, Lia. One palm crosses another in return for watchful eyes. But not Griz. That was impossible. He was so utterly Vendan. Still, I remembered that he had hidden his fluency in Morrighese from the others.
“So, frilly emissary boy,” the Komizar said, “what’s this important message from your prince?”
“As I said before, this is for your ears only.”
The Komizar’s eyes turned to fire. “Don’t insult my brethren.” The governors grumbled threats.
Rafe conceded. “The King of Dalbreck is dying. It’s a matter of weeks, if not days. Until then, the prince’s hands are tied. He can do nothing, but soon the hand of power will pass to him. When it does, things will be different. He wants to be ready. The prince and his father have very different ideas about alliances and power.”
“What kind of ideas?”
“He’s looking to the future. He thinks marriage alliances are primitive and sees an alliance with Venda to be far more beneficial to Dalbreck than one with Morrighan.”
“And the benefit to Venda?”
“There’s a port we want in Morrighan and a few miles of hills. The rest is yours.”
“The prince has grand dreams.”
“Is it worth it to have any other kind?”
“And how would we know this isn’t another of Dalbreck’s tricks?”
“Once his father is dead, the prince himself is coming to negotiate with you as a sign of good faith—but of course, by then he would be king.”
“Here?” Kaden interjected. His tone was brittle with skepticism.
Rafe looked at him, keeping his expression even, but in the tick of a second, I saw the strain in his face. If his hands had been unshackled, I’m not sure he could have held himself back. How had I ever imagined that they were friends? “In a neutral area in the Cam Lanteux to be determined,” Rafe answered, and looked back at the Komizar. “He’ll send a messenger with details. But he wants you to be ready. The alliance will have to be quickly struck before Morrighan gets whiff of it.”
The Komizar studied Rafe, drawing out the silence. He finally shook his head. “I’ve no reason to trust you or believe that the prince is any different from his treacherous father, or any of their plotting fathers before them. All of Dalbreck is enemy swine.” He stood and walked around the room, his head bent in thought. “Still … it’s an interesting game your prince plays—or that you play.” He looked into the faces of the governors, Kaden, and others present as though opinions were being gathered, but no words were exchanged, only a few subtle nods. He turned and faced Rafe again. “A few weeks are little enough to play his game. It might even be amusing. If the prince’s father isn’t dead and a messenger doesn’t arrive within a month, then his supremely foolish emissary will be sent back to the prince—a finger and foot at a time. In the meantime, I’ll send my own riders to Dalbreck to confirm the king’s poor health.”
“I’d expect no less,” Rafe answered.
The Komizar stepped closer, almost chest to chest with Rafe, with his hand resting on the hilt of Walther’s sword. “What’s your stake in this, Emissary Boy?”
“What else?” Rafe answered. “Power. The prince has made promises to me as well.”
The Komizar smiled, and I saw a glint of admiration in his eyes.
I had listened to Rafe spill out lie after lie with such grace and ease I almost believed him myself, and I marveled at how easily he conjured them, but then I remembered how smoothly he had lied to me back in Terravin. This was not a new endeavor for him.
The Komizar told everyone our business there was finished and they should return to Sanctum Hall. He would follow shortly. A few more words were exchanged with this governor or that guard, without aid of a cabinet Timekeeper flashing his timepiece, and all done with a casual air at striking odds with the previous conversation. Rafe would be sent back a piece at a time. The guards led Rafe out, and the governors filed out behind him. Kaden reached to take hold of my arm.
The Komizar put his hand out. “I’ll escort the princess,” he said, stopping him. “We’ll be along soon. I need a few minutes with her. To talk.”
“I can wait,” Kaden said.
“Alone.” A dismissal, firm and final.
My blood ran cold. Alone with the Komizar.
Kaden glanced from him to me and then back again, still not moving, but I knew he’d be leaving, one way or another. It would be better if it was on my timing. My terms. Now. My stomach knotted in fear. Now.
“It’s all right, Kaden,” I said, forcing my words out clearly and firmly, ignoring the Komizar as if he weren’t there. “You can go along.”
A wedge perfectly aimed.
If Kaden left now, it would be on my orders, not on the Komizar’s. The silence bore down, heavy and unexpected. Kaden looked at me, knowing what I had done. The boundary of loyalty had been pushed. He shook his head and left, the damage done, the heavy door rattling in his wake. It was a short-lived victory. Now I was alone in the room with the Komizar.
“So … you have a tongue after all.”
I kept my eyes fixed on the door. “For those who deserve my words.”
He jerked me around to face him. “For someone in your precarious position, you don’t choose them wisely.”
“So I’ve been told many times before.”
One of his brows rose slightly as he studied me. “It’s curious that you had no reaction when the emissary revealed Dalbreck’s betrayal of Morrighan. Perhaps you don’t care what happens to your own kingdom? Or maybe you saw no truth in the emissary’s story?”
“On the contrary, Komizar, I believed every word. I simply didn’t find it surprising. In case you aren’t aware, my father put a bounty on my head because I fled from the marriage alliance. I’ve been betrayed by my own father, why not a kingdom? I’m weary of the treachery of all men.”
He pulled me closer, his chest still decorated with the finest work of Morrighese artisans—a gift from Greta to Walther on their wedding day. Thick dark lashes lined his cool black eyes. An arrogant glint filled them. I wanted to scratch them out, but I had no nails. I wanted to draw my dagger, but they had taken that too. I glanced down at the sword at his side embedded with the red jasper of Morrighan, almost within my reach.
“So weary you’d be foolish?” he asked. “It’s harder to kill a man than a horse, Princess.” His grip on my arm tightened. “Do you know what happens when you kill the Komizar?”
“Everyone celebrates?”
A faint grin lit his face. “The job falls to you.” He released my arm and walked over to the table, his hand resting near a deep gouge. “This is where I killed the last Komizar. I was eighteen at the time. That was eleven years ago. Kaden was just a boy. He barely stood to my navel. Small for his age. He’d been starved, but he managed to catch up under my care. A Komizar must raise up his own Rahtan, and he’s been with me since the beginning. We have a long history between us. His loyalties to me run deep.” His thumb rubbed the groove, as if recalling the moment it was made.
His scrutiny turned back to me, sharp-edged. “Do not try to wheedle your way between us. I’m allowing Kaden this diversion for now. My loyalty to him runs deep too, and you might make an interesting diversion for all of us. But make no mistake about it, you and your supposed gift are worth less than nothing to me. The emissary has a better chance of being alive at month’s end than you do. So do not orchestrate games that you will lose.”
His irritation fed me. My well-aimed wedge had hit its mark. You are making me fonder of games by the minute, I wanted to say. It was as if he could read my mind.
His eyes burned bright, molten with threat. “I will repeat, in case your dim royal ears didn’t understand the first time, your position is precarious.”
I returned his stare, knowing that soon I’d see his whole army of butchers wearing the swords of Morrighan at their hips, that for the rest of my life, I’d hear my brother’s and his comrades’ dying cries being thrown up a windswept cliff into my face, all because of him and his disregard for borders and ancient treaties.
“There’s actually nothing precarious about my position,” I said. “I’m wanted for treason in my homeland, and here you’ve taken my freedom, my dreams, and my brother’s life. Everything I care about is gone, and you wear my dead brother’s baldrick as proof. What more could you take from me?”
He reached up, wrapping his hand around my neck, his thumb gently tracing a line along the hollow of my throat. He pressed harder, and I felt the flutter of my pulse under his touch.
“Trust me, Princess,” he whispered. “There’s always more to take.”