Ancient documents that had been interpreted were even more rare. The scholars of Morrighan had years of schooling in such things. The Vendans seemed barely able to keep their people fed, never mind educating them in other tongues. How would they accomplish such an enormous task?
I looked back at the monument that had supposedly reached to the sky, now almost totally unrecognizable as anything manmade. Weeds choked every surface. A monument to a leader? Who had the Ancients wanted to immortalize? Whoever it was, the angel Aster, by order of the gods, had wiped it from memory. I thought about the ancient texts I had stolen from the Royal Scholar, still in my saddlebag, which was probably for sale in the jehendra by now. I’d probably never see the precious texts again, and I’d had time to translate only a single passage of the Last Testaments of Gaudrel. Were the rest of her words lost to me now? Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. But as I gazed at the monument, the few words I had translated rang as clear as if Gaudrel whispered them to me now: The things that last. The things that remain. This great monument wasn’t one of those things.
“There’s another down this way and then we’ll go back,” Kaden said.
I looked to where he pointed. Great slabs of white shone in the distance. When we reached them, he said tunnels beneath the city had revealed that the ruin was mostly buried. Only the upper portion was exposed. These ruins were not from a tower, but a temple of a different sort. At its center was the enormous sculpted head and partial shoulders of a man. The face was not the perfect face of a god, nor that of an idealized soldier. It was oddly proportioned; forehead too wide, nose too large, protruding cheekbones that made him look starved. Maybe that was why I couldn’t turn away—he was like a tribute to a people he would never know, someone from another time chiseled with the same hunger and want as those who lived here now. I reached up and ran my fingers over his cracked cheekbone, wondering who he was and why the Ancients wanted him remembered.
Broken slabs of the surrounding temple lay on the ground near him. One large piece was engraved, but most of the words had been melted away by time. The faint indentations of a few letters survived. I couldn’t read it, but my finger traced the grooves, committing the forgotten lines to memory.
F REV R
I was struck with sadness looking at the forlorn figure and lost words. For the first time, I felt a sliver of gratitude for my hours spent studying the Morrighan Holy Text so that truth and history wouldn’t be lost again.
“We should go,” Kaden said. “We’ll take another path, a faster way back.”
I stepped away from the monument and looked around, waiting for his lead. We had taken so many turns, I wasn’t sure which direction we even needed to go—and then it hit me, like open hands slapped against my shoulders, waking me up.
I stared at Kaden, realizing what he was doing.
He wasn’t just kindly obliging me and showing me more of Venda. This had been part of his plan all along. He was deliberately confusing me—and it was working. I had no idea where the Sanctum was from here. He didn’t want me becoming familiar with the tangle of streets, so he was taking yet another route back. The twists and turns and alleyways we followed weren’t shortcuts—they were obstacles to finding my own way around this maze of a city.
I turned around, looking in different directions, trying to get my bearings. It was impossible. “You still don’t trust me,” I said.
His jaw was set, his eyes, dark stone. “My problem is, Lia, I know you too well. Like the day you used the bison stampede to separate us. You’re always looking for opportunity. You barely made it that day. If you tried something like that here, you wouldn’t make it at all. Trust me.”
“Swim across the river? I’m not that stupid. What else would I try?”
He looked at me as if he was genuinely puzzled. “I don’t know.”
There are no rules when it comes to survival, I reminded myself as I moved toward him. Each step was sharp-edged steel cutting through me, but I took his hand in mine and squeezed it tenderly. Felt his warmth and strength. His uncanny knowing. “Have you considered that maybe I’m trying to view the opportunities right before me,” I said softly, “and I’m not looking for anything else?”
He stared at me for what seemed a lifetime and then his hand tightened on my fingers and he pulled me close. His other hand pressed low on my back, holding me snugly against him, only our breath, time, and secrets between us.
“I hope so,” he finally whispered, and then, with his face only inches from mine, he released me and said it was time to go back.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
RAFE
The water in the basin ran red. I squeezed the rag out and lifted it to my mouth again.
It seemed to be Ulrix who hated me the most. I winced as I dabbed my lip where he had split it, then pressed hard trying to stop the bleeding. Pain radiated across my face.
After the Komizar bid his farewell to me this morning, he sent his oversized brute in with some food, but Ulrix and his henchmen gave me an additional side dish. If every meal came with a bonus like that, I was in trouble. At least they hadn’t aimed for my ribs again. I was sure at least one was cracked. I couldn’t afford more.
It was ironic that all I had wanted was the chance to prove myself as a soldier, and now I was forced to play an untrained and inept emissary when I was matched against brutish clods. Hand combat wasn’t my strongest suit, but I could have taken them down in just a few moves with no one the wiser. Sparing my lip wasn’t worth risking the plan, though. Two years ago, when Tavish and I had disobeyed orders and rescued his brother from an enemy camp, we had played drunken, weaponless bumblers. That deception had to work for only a few minutes before we revealed our true purpose. This one would have to last much longer. This time there were no horses waiting. There was no quick escape. My story had given us time, and I had to continue to make them believe it.
The Komizar had bought into it for now. My proposal had played to his ego. He wanted to believe that a powerful kingdom was at last recognizing him as a worthy ally—that the prince was actually coming to him to negotiate an alliance. He believed he was finally getting the trembling respect he deserved, and who better to get it from than the future king of Dalbreck? He may have feigned suspicion, but I saw the hunger in his eyes when I laid it out. There was only one thing that someone with great power wanted. More of it.
I knew firsthand.
The marriage alliance with Morrighan hadn’t been about protection and strength alone. That may very well have been the least of it. My father and his generals had little respect for the Morrighese army. They considered them weak and favored only by some strategic positions and resources. The alliance had also been a bid for dominance.
My father and his cabinet believed that once we had the beloved First Daughter of Morrighan within our borders, boundaries could be pushed. After acquiring Princess Arabella, the southern port of Piadro in Morrighan was next in their sights, though the cabinet preferred to use the word dowry. Only a small port and a few hills. But for Dalbreck, having a deepwater western port would increase their power tenfold.
It was also a matter of pride. In another time, the port and surrounding lands had belonged to Breck, the exiled prince of Morrighan, banished from the kingdom for challenging his ruling brother. Though countless centuries had passed since then, Dalbreck still wanted it back—some wounds never healed. They saw Lia as a diplomatic inroad to getting what they believed was rightfully theirs without mounting an outright invasion.
When I mentioned the desire for the port to the Komizar, it rang true for him, not just because he knew the port’s value, but because the quest for more power was a hunger he understood. Last night he had fished for details of the court of Dalbreck as if he was already planning for his meeting with the prince. I didn’t take him for a fool, though. He wouldn’t be misled forever. I knew enough of the reputations of Vendan riders, their swift flight, and the way they slipped through borders with ease. It wouldn’t
be long before they returned with news of my father’s good health. Lia and I had to be gone before then. The brute of a fellow who had identified me was a concern, though. Griz, the Komizar had called him. Had he lied for me, or was he truly confused? Maybe he had seen me up on the dais at a ceremony and mistaken me for one of many dignitaries there. He was a loose end that I didn’t feel good about—and he was one mountain of a loose end.
I dropped the rag into the basin and grabbed a dry one. Only a thin smear of blood stained the white cloth when I dabbed my mouth. The flow was stopped, but my lip still throbbed. I walked over to the tall slit of a window, just shy of being wide enough for me to slip through, and I pushed open the shutter. Pigeons fluttered from the wet ledge.
Far below, Venda crawled awake like a lumbering giant. Walls and towers prevented me from seeing much past a few rooftops, but the city appeared to spread for miles. It was far larger than I had expected. I leaned as far forward as the narrow window would allow. Were Sven and the others already slinking down one of those dark streets?
Rafe’s plan’s going to kill us all.
Orrin may have voiced their thoughts, but none of them hesitated to do as I asked. Tavish even whispered before I rode off, We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But that time we had faced only a dozen, not thousands, and none had been the Komizar.
I turned away and paced the room, trying to think of anything but Lia. I looked down at the cuts across my knuckles, my own stupidity. As soon as they had brought me to my room last night and shut the door, I had punched the wall without thinking.
Reckless actions like that were not part of the plan either. Sven would have reprimanded me for acting with my heart instead of my head and putting a potential weapon, my hand, at risk, but it had been all I could do to sit there and act like I didn’t care when Lia kissed Kaden. The only thing that had delayed my reaction was the message I had received loud and clear from Lia—the Komizar watched everything. I knew he was playing us to see how we reacted. Lia’s performance had been stunningly believable. The Komizar had nodded approvingly. But how far did she have to go to convince Kaden too? This morning one of the guards took great pleasure in telling me that Lia was no longer wearing the burlap dress, that Kaden had told the Komizar she had earned a whole wardrobe last night. “The little Morrighese bitch has forgotten her frilly emissary already now that she’s had a taste of Vendan.”
I didn’t punch the wall after he left. I pulled myself up from the floor where he had deposited me, tasting the blood pooling in my mouth, and tried to remind myself that Lia hadn’t asked for any of this. I reminded myself of the look in her eyes when she first saw me before we crossed the bridge, her gaze that tore me sternum to soul, the one that said we were all that mattered, and I promised myself as I spit blood onto the floor, that one day I would see that look in her eyes again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The locks at home had been child’s play compared to this. I had wrestled with this one for the better part of an hour. How many times had I picked the Scholar’s or the Chancellor’s doors or—especially fun for me—the Timekeeper’s, resetting his clock and timepieces? That had especially angered my father, but I’d only done it hoping it would create an extra hour in his day for me. I’d thought he might even appreciate my resourcefulness. He didn’t, but my brothers secretly grinned each time he chastised me. The pride in their faces alone had made it worth it.
But this lock was rusty and stubborn, and a simple hairpin wouldn’t budge it, much less this sliver of tinder, which was the only tool I could find. I wriggled it in the keyhole again, this time a little too enthusiastically, and it broke off.
“Damn!” I threw the broken stub to the ground. So the door wasn’t an option. There were other ways out of a room, perhaps a little riskier, but not impossible. I went to the window again. The ledge outside was walkable, a good ten inches wide. It was a harrowing drop to the ground, but only a couple of yards away, it connected to the top of a wide wall that branched into two different paths that might lead anywhere. Unfortunately, all three of my windows were in plain view of soldiers in the courtyard below, and they seemed to have an unusual interest in looking up here. I had waved to them twice. Before he left, Kaden had told me, “It will be safer for you to stay here.” He had tried to make it sound like he was only trying to keep others out, but it was clear he still didn’t trust that I’d stay put.
I flopped down on the bed. He left me with food and water and the promise to return by nightfall. That was hours away, and I still had no information about Rafe. Where was he? I thought about how the guards had beaten him before, but surely they wouldn’t beat him now that he’d struck a deal with the Komizar. I hoped. I should have risked asking Kaden. I could have worded it in a casual, disinterested way.
“No,” I sighed, and rolled over, nestling into the warmth of the bed. There were only so many things I could safely disguise in my face and voice. For me, Rafe wasn’t one of them. It was safer not to talk of him at all. I’d only arouse Kaden’s suspicions.
I stared vacantly across the room, wondering what sort of matter could occupy so much of his time, but then I noticed something tucked beside one of the trunks. It hadn’t been there before. I sat up, curious. A dusty bedroll? I got up and walked closer. It was mine. My bedroll! And beneath it, my saddlebag!
How did they get here? Had Eben also secreted these away before they were sold at market? I grabbed my saddlebag and dumped it out on the bed, the contents flying. The beaded scarf Reena gave me, my brush, my tinderbox, the crumbled remains of the chiga weed—everything—including the ancient texts I had stolen, still tucked in their leather sleeves. My mood transformed from frustrated to jubilant in an instant. Even the simplest item like the string of leather to tie back my hair brought me joy, things that were mine and not borrowed or bought with the Komizar’s coin. But especially the books. I quickly tucked them under the mattress of the bed in case anyone thought of taking them back.
I shook out my bedroll and lifted the cloak, still tied up with string, that the vagabond women had given me in case the weather turned. The days and nights had been so warm across the savanna I’d had no need of it except as an occasional pillow. I pulled the string free and threw the cloak around my shoulders, savoring its warmth, but especially cherishing those who gave it to me, remembering the blessings they sent with me, even little Natiya’s angry wish for harm to come to Kaden’s teeth. I smiled. The cloak felt like their arms around me once again. I grabbed a fistful of fabric and held it to my cheek, soft and the color of a midnight forest—
And the color of dark weathered stone.
There was one more window—the one in the chamber closet. I ran to it. Maybe with the dark cover of a cloak, that one would be far enough out of view of the guards that I might slip out unnoticed. In my rush, I slid on the braided rug in the tiny room and fell against the rough stone wall. I rubbed my bruised shoulder, cursing the tear I’d made in Kaden’s shirt. I went to the window and peeked out. A guard looked up and nodded, as if he expected my recurring appearances. Kaden must have warned them to keep a close eye on all windows of his room. I grumbled out a low, angry oath as I smiled and waved back. I stooped to smooth out the skewed rug and noticed a slightly wider gap between the floor planks. Cold air seeped through the crack. I pushed the rug aside and saw that the line continued around in a perfect square. At one end was an embedded iron ring. The Sanctum is riddled with abandoned passageways.
This was how he did it.
I hadn’t slept through the screeching hinges of the door. He’d made a silent exit this way. My heart hammered as I reached for the ring. I pulled, and the floor lifted up. Iron levers smoothly unfolded beneath the planks to reveal a black hole and the barely visible beginnings of a staircase. Thick air, dusty and ancient, crawled upward, chilling the small room.
It was an escape. But to what? I leaned over, peering into the black hole, but the stairs disappeared into oblivion. Some with deadly drops
.
I shook my head and started to shut the trapdoor, then stopped.
If Kaden could go down and come out on the other side, so could I. I hiked up the cloak and swung my feet down to the first stair. I positioned the heavy rug back over the trapdoor so it would fall back into place when I closed it, but finding the will to close it behind me took some time. I finally took a deep breath and let it drop.
The stairs were steep and narrow. My hands glided along the stone walls on either side to help me feel my way down, sometimes passing through what I could only imagine were enormous spiderwebs. I suppressed a shiver and reminded myself of all the webs I had swept away at the inn. Harmless, Lia. Small, Lia. Compared to the Komizar, innocent little creatures. Keep going.
Step after step, I saw nothing but deep suffocating black. I blinked, almost unsure if my eyes were open. I sensed the staircase curve, my left foot finding greater purchase on the step than the right, and then after a dozen steps, blessed light appeared. Dim at first, and then blazing. It was only a finger-thin gap in the stone blocks of the outer wall, but in the darkness, it shone like a blessed lantern. It illuminated the path below me, and I was able to move at a faster pace. Some of the stone steps had crumbled away, and I had to carefully ease myself down to a third or even a fourth step. I finally came to a landing that led to a dark passageway and reluctantly stepped into complete blackness again. After only a few steps, I ran into a solid wall. A dead end. It has to lead somewhere, I thought, but then remembered the haphazard construction of the entire city. I found my way back to the staircase, down more steps to another landing and dark passageway—and another dead end. My throat tightened. The musty air was suddenly choking me, and my fingers were stiff with cold. What if Kaden hadn’t come this way? What if this was one of those closed-up forgotten passageways that I’d never find my way out of again?
I closed my eyes, though it made little difference in the dark. Breathe, Lia. You haven’t made it this far for nothing. My fingers curled into fists. There was a way out, and I would find it.
The Heart of Betrayal Page 10