This chamber hadn’t been my intended destination, but as I’d passed its narrow portal, a chill suddenly overtook me. There. My flesh crawled. The word pressed heavy against my chest like a hand stopping me. There. I was certain it was the gift speaking, an air current within the room that reached out to me, but when I could find nothing, I doubted myself, wondering if it was only one of the drafts in this cavernous underworld.
I took one last long look at the contents of the room and moved on.
* * *
Aster had been right. This tunnel led only to wet rock and gears, the hidden workings of the bridge. The river roared just steps away from me, and I was already wet from its mist. Its power was staggering and frightening, and I wondered how many lives had been lost just trying to construct a way across it.
My spirits sank when I examined the gears. They were part of an elaborate pulley system with wheels as massive as the one I had seen higher up the cliff at the entrance to Venda. “There’s no way,” I said to myself. And yet …
I couldn’t quite bring myself to walk away. The lowest gear was secured into the surrounding rock. It was a slippery ascent, and the churning river below made me check and double-check every foothold, but my short climb revealed nothing of help. If anything, it only confirmed that we wouldn’t be leaving by the bridge.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
She didn’t use the word love. My aunt Cloris called it a “confluence of destinies.” I thought it was a beautiful word when she said it, confluence, and I was certain it had to mean something beautiful and sweet, like a powdered pastry. She said the king of Morrighan was thirty-four and had still not found a proper match when a noble First Daughter of a kingdom under siege had caught a Lord’s eye on a diplomatic trip to Gastineux.
Confluence—a coming together by chance, like meandering brooks that join up in a distant unseen gorge. Together they become something greater, but it isn’t delicate or sweet. Like a raging river, a confluence can lead to something impossible to predict or control. My aunt Cloris deserved more credit for her astuteness than I had given her. Yet sometimes the coming together, the confluence of destinies, seemed not to be by chance at all.
Today the Komizar had matters that needed his attention in the Tomack quarter, but he’d learned from Calantha that Rafe’s family had bred horses that supplied the Dalbreck army. He asked Eben and Governor Yanos to take Rafe to the eastern paddock and stables just outside the city to assess some of his studs and mares.
I had insisted on exercising some of my newly earned freedoms, even if it came with the escort of two well-armed guards, and I went to the Capswam quarter to seek out Yvet’s bapa. I gave him half the winnings from my card game with Malich and asked three things of him—that he seek out a healer for Yvet to make sure her hand didn’t blacken with infection, to use the remaining coins to buy the cheese she had so dearly paid for already, and to never shame her for the heinous deeds of another. He tried to refuse the money, but I made him take it. And then he cried, and I thought my heart would wrench from my chest.
The guards, two young men who were no more than twenty, witnessed the exchange, and after we left I warned them not to tell Malich where his winnings had gone.
“We’re Meurasi,” one of them said. “Yvet is our cousin.” And though they extended me no promises, I knew they wouldn’t tell.
It was midday, and I had just entered the stable yard from the south Sanctum gate, and Rafe from the western gate. My heart lifted as it always did when I saw him, for a brief moment forgetting about the danger he faced and the lies I had to guard. I only saw the scruff of his unshaven face, his hair tied back, the confidence of his posture in the saddle, the same sureness as when he had walked into the tavern the first time. There was an engaging power about him, and I wondered how no one else saw it. He wasn’t a conniving lackey to a prince. He was the prince. Maybe we all see what we want to see. I had fallen in love with the idea of a farmer, and it hadn’t taken much nudging for me to believe it was so.
He was eating an apple, and its red skin shone bright against the drab stable yard. I had seen the treasured fruit arrive this morning with a Previzi caravan and watched Calantha throw him two of the sweet prizes. I hadn’t had any fruit since I left the vagabond camp. The closest thing to it here was the root vegetables—carrots and turnips—sometimes served with the Sanctum chickens or wild game. I knew an apple was another reserved luxury delivered to the Council quarters, and I wondered at Calantha’s generosity with Rafe.
He swayed easily in his saddle as he approached, biting off another chunk of apple, and our paths met in the middle of the yard. We exchanged a quick glance and dismounted, waiting for teams of horses that were being hitched to wagons to move out of the way. Even though we had an idle moment together and the guards surrounding us were loud with jesting, telling the Previzi drivers to hurry up about their work, there were still too many within earshot. I couldn’t take a chance trying to explain last night and how my refusing the Komizar might hasten Rafe’s death sentence. He was left to wonder what I was up to. He knew I despised the Komizar. He chewed his apple, his eyes inspecting my dress and the long trails of bones that rattled at my side. I could see every syllable in his eyes: She’s becoming more Vendan every day.
“If my friend Jeb were here,” he said, “he’d commend your accessories, Princess. His tastes run on the savage side.”
“As do the Komizar’s,” a guard interjected, a reminder that they were always listening.
I studied Rafe. I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult. His tone was odd, but then something else caught his attention.
I followed his gaze. A confluence of destinies.
Not now. Not here. I knew it couldn’t go well.
It was Kaden. He was riding toward us with the governor he had sought at his side and what looked like a disheveled squad of men with him.
Rafe began choking, apple flying from his mouth. His eyes watered.
“Chew, Emissary,” I said, “before swallowing.”
He coughed a few more times, but his eyes remained fixed on the approaching squad.
I saw the visible relief on Kaden’s face when he spotted me. He swung down from his horse, and the men with him did the same. Kaden ignored Rafe as if he weren’t there, in fact as if no one were there. “You’re well?” he asked, not noticing the sudden hush of the soldiers around us. The Assassin was back—the Assassin who had not yet heard the news. The governor stepped up, clearing his throat.
Kaden grudgingly nodded toward him. “This is the new governor of Arleston and his”—he paused, as if searching for the right word—“soldiers.”
I understood why it gave him pause. “Soldiers” was a generous term. They were not an impressive lot. No uniforms, their clothes ragged, the poorest of the poor. But the governor was a frightening brute of a man, tall and lean with a broad chest and a vicious scar that striped his face from cheekbone to chin. He had a scowling line between his brows to match.
“And you are?” he said. The sudden forced smile twisting his lips was more wretched than his scowl.
“It’s not important,” Kaden said. “Let’s go—”
“Princess Arabella,” I answered. “First Daughter of Morrighan, and this is Rafe, the emissary of Prince Jaxon of Dalbreck.”
The governor’s smile disappeared. “Enemy swine in the Sanctum?” he said in disbelief.
He glared at Rafe and spit, hitting Rafe’s boots. Rafe started forward, but I stepped between them.
“For someone so new to this position, you have an exceptionally reckless tongue, Governor,” I said. “Be careful, or you may lose it.”
He sputtered with astonishment and looked at Kaden. “You allow your prisoners to speak to you this way?”
“She’s not a prisoner anymore,” one of the nearby soldiers chided.
And that’s when Rafe told Kaden about my new role at the Sanctum.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
KADEN
My Rahtan brethren kept their daggers gripped in their fists.
“Leave,” the Komizar ordered. They rightfully hesitated. “Leave!” he yelled again.
They reluctantly sheathed their knives. When they closed the door behind them, he stood and walked around to the side of the table and faced me. “So you’ve heard the news? I’ll assume you’re here to offer your congratulations.”
I lunged. I knocked him to the floor, and furniture toppled around us. He pulled my knife from its sheath, but I slammed his hand against the floor, and the knife flew across the room. His other fist caught my jaw, and I fell back, but my knee met his ribs when he came at me again. Glass shattered, papers and maps rained down around us, but my rage finally prevailed, and I pinned him down, holding a shard of his broken lantern to his neck. Blood seeped from my hand as the sharp edge cut into my own flesh.
“You knew! You knew how I felt about her! But everything you already had wasn’t enough! You had to have her too! As soon as I turned my back—”
“Then what are you waiting for?” His eyes were fiercely cold. “Slash my throat. Be done with it.”
The glass shook in my fist. One slash, and I’d be the next Komizar. It had been expected for years, one Assassin after another rising to power. We sealed our own fates, training our successors far too well in their duties. My hand bled across his neck.
His eyes didn’t waver. “That’s right,” he said. “Think carefully. You always do. That’s one thing I’ve always been able to count on with you. Think about all our years together. Where you were when I found you. Think of all the things we’ve worked for. All the things you still want. Is a girl really worth it?”
“And yet you marry her? Make her queen? She must be worth it to you! What happened to all your talk of flabby domestic lives? And royals? Venda doesn’t have royals!”
“Your anger clouds your judgment. Is that what she’s done to you? Poisoned you? My decisions are based solely on what will benefit my countrymen. Where do yours come from?”
Only Lia. For me, Venda hadn’t existed as I flew into this room.
He looked at me calmly, even with jagged glass at his throat. “I could have had you killed the minute you burst through my door. That’s not what I want, Kaden. We have too much history between us. Let’s talk.”
I glared at him, my lungs burning, heated seconds ticking by, the pulse of his neck steady beneath my hand. Only one small vein separated me from Lia. But it was true—he could have set the Rahtan upon me the second I walked through the door. Even as I came through the gates. He could have been ready with his own dagger. We have too much history between us.
I let him up. He threw me a rag to wrap my hand. He surveyed the broken carnage of his study and shook his head.
“You’re the one who brought her here. You’re the one who said she’d be useful to Venda. You were right. And now the clans have welcomed her. To them she’s a sign that the gods have favored Venda. She’s a symbol of old ways and promises. We got more than we bargained for, and now we must use it. We have a long winter ahead of us, and most supplies must go to feed our army. But the fervor of the masses won’t waver if she feeds their superstitions.”
“Why a marriage?” I said bitterly. “There are other ways.”
“It was the clan’s request, brother, not mine. Think. Have I shown any interest in her before now? The clans welcomed her, but some were wary, thinking it could be another trick of the enemy. They wanted evidence of a true commitment on her part. Marriage to their leader has the permanence they desired. I consulted with the Council. They approved it. You question not just my judgment but that of the entire Council?”
I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t believe the Council would approve this, but without me here, why not? Malich was probably the first to call a yea. And from the day the Meurasi welcomed her, I should have known this could become a possibility. The Meurasi did not welcome outsiders.
“Don’t worry, things won’t change much. I’ve no interest in the girl beyond what she’ll do for our countrymen. You can even keep your pet in your quarters for now if you’re discreet around the clans. They must think the marriage is real.” He paused as he righted the footed oil lamp. “But I must warn you,” he said, turning back to me, “she’s developed a genuine kinship with the clans. When I proposed the marriage, she embraced it. She was eager, even. She saw its worth too.”
“Embraced? Under threat of her death?” I said sarcastically.
“Ask her yourself. She saw that it afforded her two advantages—greater freedoms and sweet revenge against her father. Certainly you of all people can understand that. Betrayal by one’s own kind is a wound that never heals. Use your logic, you smitten ass, and pull yourself together.”
I looked at him, my calm returned. “I’ll be asking her. You can be sure of that.”
He paused as if something had just occurred to him. “Devil’s hell, she’s not bearing your brat, is she? I hope you’re not that stupid.”
He assumed, as I had led him to believe, that Lia and I were sleeping together. But the Rahtan were expected to take precautions so as not to be saddled with those flabby domestic lives he so greatly scorned.
“No. There is no brat.” I spun and stormed out.
“Kaden,” he called as I reached the door, “don’t push me too far. Malich would make a fine Assassin too.”
* * *
She leaned over the basin splashing her face, her shoulders stiffening at the sound of my footsteps behind her.
“Did he force your hand?” I asked. “I know he did. I don’t even know why I’m asking.” She didn’t answer and dipped her hands in the water, washing up to her elbows. I grabbed her arm, spinning her around, and the basin tipped over. It split in two when it hit the floor. “Answer me!” I yelled.
She looked down at the broken halves and the water pooling at our feet. “I thought you already had the answer to your question and didn’t require mine.”
“Tell me, Lia.”
Her eyes glistened. “Kaden, I’m sorry. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want this. I do. You know I don’t love the Komizar, but I’m not a foolish dreamy-eyed girl anymore either. The truth is, I’ve become resigned to the fact that I’m never getting out of here. I need to make a life for myself—the best one I can. Just as you asked me to. And if we’re going to be honest”—her voice wobbled, and she swallowed—“the Komizar has something to offer that you don’t. Power. There are people here, like Aster, the clans, and others, that I’m actually coming to care about. I want to help them. With a little power, I might. I remember you telling me that you didn’t have the choices I thought you did. I understand that now. So like you, I’m taking advantage of the choices I do have. Marriage to the Komizar offers benefits that you can’t give me.” Her eyes narrowed. “And as an added bonus, the news of the marriage will cut at least my father to the core, if not all of Morrighan. There’s some sweetness to that. Believe me when I tell you that my hand was not forced.”
“In just a week’s time, you decided all that?”
The glisten in her eyes receded as if on cue. “A week is a lifetime, Kaden. It can wipe a whole world of people from the face of the earth with the falling of a single star. It can transport a tavern maid living in a seaside village to a scorching desert with ruthless cutthroats as her companions. So in comparison, really, does my small decision to marry a man for his power require more than a week’s thought?”
I shook my head. “That’s not you, Lia.”
Her lip lifted in disgust as if she had suddenly grown weary of being sympathetic. “You’re hurt, Kaden. I’m sorry. Truly. But life is hard. Pull your Vendan he
ad out of your ass and get used to it. Didn’t you spit out very similar words to me back in Reena’s carvachi? Well, I get it now. So should you.”
Her voice was cold, detached—and what she said was true. Everything sank inside me, falling like she had cut both my breath and muscle loose. I looked at her, even the words on my tongue lost somewhere in the tumble, and I turned away. I walked back out the door, down the hall, not seeing anything as I went, wondering how she’d become so … perfectly royal.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
RAFE
I leaned against the parapet watching Lia.
I was alone without benefit of guard, Ulrix, or Calantha. Though they let me know often that they were keeping a close watch on me, they were no longer constantly at my side. It seemed all the rules had been relaxed now that the marriage was announced and now that …
I rested my head against my arms.
My mother was dead.
It sickened me that her death gained me more credibility.
I should be home. Everyone in Dalbreck was probably searching and wondering—where is Prince Jaxon? Why isn’t he here? Why has he shirked his duties? Yes, my father would have Sven’s head and mine if we ever got back. That is, if my father was still alive.
Those are the toughest ones to kill.
My father was a tough bastard, just as the Komizar had said. But an old one. Tiring. And he loved my mother, loved her more than his kingdom or his own life. Losing her would weaken him, make him quick prey to scourges he had fought off in better times.
I should be there.
I was back to that again. I lifted my head and looked at Lia sitting on the far wall above the square below. My duty was in Dalbreck, but I couldn’t imagine myself anywhere but here with her.
“There were only small gatherings when I left.”
I turned. Kaden had come upon me silently. He was hidden in the shadow of a column, watching her too. His was the last company I wanted.
The Heart of Betrayal Page 23