“You make it sound as if they had no reason. They were already dying. Starving to death!”
“And they chose to take their lives and those of their children instead of doing everything possible to feed them!” The King rose from his chair in a rush of plum-adorned black silk. “What would you have had me do that could have possibly altered that outcome? I have no control over the Rot. I cannot heal the land. You know that.”
I couldn’t believe he would even ask that question. “You could’ve fed them. Made sure they had food until they could grow their crops again or find employment.”
“And is he supposed to do that for every family that can no longer work their land?” Tavius asked.
Hands balling into fists, I turned to where he sat. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on the leather boot propped on the hard surface of the ottoman. He tilted his head in my direction, not a single curl spilling over his forehead. The blackened eye I’d given him had faded far too quickly. His features were perfectly pieced together. Yet all those handsome attributes were somehow wrong on Tavius’s face. “Yes,” I answered. “And not just the farmers. You should know that as the heir to the throne.”
His lips, already thin, pressed tightly together.
“It’s the harvesters who rely on the fields to feed their children. It’s the shop owners who struggle each week to buy food because the prices have increased.” I stared at him. “Do you even know why the prices have gone up?”
The tautness eased from his face. “I know why. You.” He smiled, popping a date into his mouth. I doubted that he did. “Tell me, sister. How do you think we could provide for every family?”
Disgust curdled my stomach. “We could ration. We could give them some of the food here, starting with the dates in that bowl.”
Tavius smirked and then bit down on another piece of fruit.
I turned back to the King. “There is more than enough food here, within these very walls, to feed a hundred families for a month.”
“And then what?” my stepfather asked, lifting his hands, palms up. “What do we do after a month, Sera?”
“It’s not like we’d run out of food. There are other farms—”
“That are already being pushed to their limits to make up for the lands that can no longer produce,” he cut in. “Where would we draw the line? Deciding who we feed and who we do not. As you said, it’s not only the farmers. It’s the harvesters and more. But there are others who either cannot or will not fend for themselves. Those who will come with their hands out and their mouths open. If we attempted to feed them, we’d all starve.”
I took a deep breath that did nothing to calm my temper. “I sincerely doubt anyone would choose not to fend for themselves and starve.”
The King huffed out a laugh as he sat. “You’d be surprised,” he said, picking up a ruby-encrusted chalice.
“There has to be something we can do,” I tried again.
“Well, I have an idea,” Tavius announced, and I didn’t even bother to look at him. “This rationing thing you speak of? We could start by taking the food spent on the most useless within these walls.”
“Oh, let me guess… You’re talking about me.” I looked over my shoulder at him. He arched a brow. “At least, I realize just how useless I am.” I smiled as his disappeared. “Unlike some in this room.”
The smug look vanished completely from his face, wiped away by the heat of anger. “How dare you speak to me like that?”
“There’s nothing daring about speaking the truth,” I retorted.
Tavius rose swiftly, and I faced him. “You know what the problem is with you?”
“You?” I offered, not even caring how childish it sounded.
His eyes thinned into slits. “Me? The irony would be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic. The problem is you. It’s always been you.”
“Tavius,” his father warned.
My stepbrother took a step toward me. “You failed that family. They’re dead because of you. Not me.”
I stiffened as his words cut through me, but I didn’t let it show as I met his stare. “Then more are going to die because of my failure unless the Crown does something. What are you going to do once you take the throne? Continue letting your people die while you sit in the castle eating dates?”
“Oh.” His laugh was harsh and grating. “I cannot wait till I take the throne.”
I snorted. “Seriously? Taking the throne would actually require you to do something other than sit around all day and drink all night.”
His nostrils flared. “One of these days, Sera. I swear.”
Something dark and oily opened inside the center of my chest, much like where the warmth from my gift usually sprang to life. This feeling was slick and cold, snaking through me as I stared at my stepbrother. “What? Are you suggesting you’re going to do something? You? Have you forgotten that black eye?” I smiled as his eyes narrowed. “I can easily remind you, if so.”
He took a step forward. “You little bi—”
“That’s enough, Tavius.” My stepfather’s voice boomed, startling me enough that I jumped. “Enough,” he growled when my stepbrother started speaking once more. “Leave us, Tavius. Now.”
Stunned that my stepfather wasn’t sending me from the room, I wasn’t paying attention when Tavius pivoted back to the table. “Here, my dear sister.” He picked up the bowl of dates. “You can ration this among the needy.” He flung the bowl at me.
Dates flew through the air. The hard ceramic cracked into the arm I lifted instead of my face. A flare of pain ran up the bone. I sucked in a sharp breath as the bowl fell to the floor, cracking upon the marble tiles.
Arm burning, I started toward him. “You son of—”
“That is enough! Both of you!” The King slammed his hands on the desk. And a moment later, the doors swung open. The two Royal Guards entered, hands on their swords. “Sera, you stay right where you are. Do not take one single step toward your stepbrother. That is an order. Disobey it, and you will spend the rest of the week in your chambers. I promise that.”
Rage flashed through me like wildfire, stinging my eyes. I forced myself to stand down, even though I wanted to pick up that shattered bowl and beat Tavius over the head with it. But the King would carry through on his threat. He’d lock me in my rooms, and I…I would lose myself if he did that.
“And you, my son,” my stepfather continued. Tavius stopped, eyes widening at the thunder in the King’s voice. “I do not want to see you for the remainder of the day. If I do, it will not be a bowl you suddenly find in your face. Do you understand me?”
Tavius nodded curtly and then turned without another word, brushing past the Royal Guards. The King motioned at them, and they crept out of the room, quietly closing the door behind them.
Silence enveloped us.
And then, “Are you okay?”
His softly spoken question left me a bit bewildered as I looked down. My throbbing arm was already a bright shade of red. It would bruise. “I’m fine.” I looked at the broken bowl. “I’d be better if you hadn’t stopped me.”
“I’m sure you would be, but if I hadn’t, you’d have likely seriously injured him.”
I turned around slowly.
The King picked up his chalice and downed the contents in one gulp. “You’d make short work of your stepbrother.”
What he said shouldn’t feel like a compliment, but his words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, nonetheless.
“He will never do that again,” he added, dragging his hand over his head, and clasping the back of his neck. “That type of behavior isn’t like him. He has a temper, yes. But he normally wouldn’t do that. He’s worried.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. Tavius always had a cruel streak, and my mother and stepfather were either blind to it or chose not to see it. “What does he have to worry about?”
“The same thing that plagues you,” he answered. “He just doesn’t express it as vocally as you do.”
“I’m sorry you had to see what you did this morning,” he continued. Once more, I was struck silent in surprise. “I know you found them.” He leaned back, resting his hand on the arm of the chair. “No one should have to bear witness to that.”
I blinked, and it took me a moment to work past more unanticipated words. “Maybe not,” I cleared my throat. “But I…I think some do need to see to truly understand how bad it’s getting.”
“I know how bad it is, Sera. And that is without seeing it.” His gaze met mine.
I took a step toward his desk, hands clasped together. “Something has to be done.”
“It will.”
“What?” I asked, suspecting that he believed I still played a role in stopping it.
His gaze flicked to one of his many shelves and the glass trinkets on it. “We just need time.” Weariness clung to the King’s tone when he sat back in his chair. So did heaviness. “We only need to wait, and the Rot will be fixed. It will all be fixed in time.”
Leaving my stepfather’s office, I had the same feeling I had when a bad nightmare lingered hours after waking, and I had to remind myself that whatever horror had found me while I slept wasn’t real.
It was an anxious sort of feeling. As I left the stairs and made my way to the banquet hall, I kept my head down, ignoring the many servants and how they ignored me. I didn’t know what the King thought would change. There needed to be action. Not patience. Not reckless hope.
Entering the banquet hall, I rubbed at my sore arm. I needed to change and then find Sir Holland. I was sure to be late for our training. I didn’t know if—
“Please.”
I stopped mid-step and turned, scanning the space. The long, wide chamber was empty, and the alcoves leading to the meeting rooms appeared empty, as well. I looked up to the second-floor mezzanine. No one stood at the stone railing.
“Please,” came the whisper again, from my left. I turned to the candlelit alcove and the closed inside door. “Please. Someone…”
Stepping into the shadowy area, I pressed a hand against the door handle and held my breath as if that would help me hear better. For a too-long second, I didn’t hear anything.
“Please,” the soft cry came again. “Help me.”
Someone was in trouble. The worst kind of thoughts entered my mind. When these rooms weren’t in use, no one checked them. All manner of terrible things could happen in them. I thought of some of the Royal Guards and the younger, pretty servants. My blood heated with anger as I turned the knob. In the back of my mind, I thought it was strange that the door opened so easily. Heinous deeds were usually carried out behind locked doors. Still, someone could’ve fallen while cleaning one of the obnoxious chandeliers that hung from the ceiling of every chamber. One of the servants had suffered an agonizingly slow death that way a few years ago.
Stepping into the chamber lit only by a few scattered sconces, my gaze landed on the dark-haired girl kneeling beside the low table, centered between two long settees. “Are you okay?” I asked, hurrying forward.
The girl looked up, and recognition flared. It was one of the young women from the kitchens who’d been praying. She didn’t answer.
“Are you all right?” I asked again, starting to kneel when I noticed there was nary a wrinkle in her starched, white blouse. She was pale, her light blue eyes wide, but not a single strand of hair had fallen free from the bun secured at the nape of her neck, nor was her lace cap askew.
The servant’s eyes darted over my shoulder to something behind me.
Every muscle in my body tensed as I heard the thud of boots, softened by the plush carpet. The door closed…
Then I heard it lock.
The girl’s gaze shifted back to mine, and her lips trembled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Godsdamn it, this was a trap.
Chapter 16
The back of my neck prickled. I turned my head slightly to the left, seeing two pairs of legs in dark breeches by the door. I should’ve known better than to blindly rush into any room, even in Wayfair.
Hadn’t I learned that lesson a time or a dozen over the last three years?
“I didn’t have a choice,” the servant whispered. “Truly, I—”
“That’s enough,” a male voice snapped, and the servant immediately fell quiet.
His voice had come from my right. Either the one I saw by the door had moved, or there were two in the room. Irritation buzzed through my veins as I slipped my right hand into my boot. I was not having a very good day, and that really sucked after such a wonderful few hours by the lake. The poor Coupers were dead. My arm still throbbed. Sir Holland would be annoyed because I was sure to miss training now, and the one nice skirt I had that didn’t make me want to tear it off was about to be ruined.
After all, I knew how this would end.
With me bloody.
And someone dead.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I said, rising slowly and unsheathing the knife from my boot. It was small enough that when I held it pressed to my palm with my thumb and kept my hand open, it appeared as if I held nothing. I looked slightly to my left again, and the pair of legs was still there. “You’ve heard some rumor. That I’m cursed. That if you kill me, you’ll end the Rot. That’s not how it works. Or, you’ve heard something about who I am and think you can use me to gain whatever it is you need. That’s not going to happen, either.”
“We aren’t thinking about anything,” the man to my left replied. “Other than about the coin that will fill our pockets. Enough not to ask questions.”
That was…different.
I shifted the knife slightly, turning the slender blade between my fingers. Killing is not something one should have little regard for. Ash was right. I forced myself to breathe in slowly and then hold it as I looked over my shoulder to my right once more in response to the whisper of steel being drawn. I saw black, and my stomach lurched. Black breeches. Well-muscled arms. A glimpse of purple brocade over a wide chest.
They were guards.
An unsettled skip came from my chest, but I couldn’t let it take hold. I shut down my thoughts and feelings and became the thing that had stood in Nor’s office. That empty, moldable creature. A blank canvas primed to become whatever the Primal of Death desired or be used in whatever way my mother saw fit. I sometimes wondered how the Primal would’ve painted me, but as the handle of the small knife now slipped between my fingers, I was still blank. Exhaling a long and slow breath, I turned to my right. But that wasn’t where I aimed. I cocked back my arm and let the knife fly.
I knew it struck true when I heard the ragged gasp, and the servant let out a startled cry. There was no time to see if Sir Holland’s blindfolded training had paid off as the other guard charged me, sword drawn.
He was young. Couldn’t be much older than I was, and I thought about the marks Ash had said every death left behind.
I kicked out, planting my booted foot in the center of the guard’s chest. My skirt slid over my leg as he stumbled back. Reaching down, I gave the room a quick scan as I unsheathed the iron blade. I’d been wrong about how many were in the room. There were three, and they were all young.
Well, probably only two in a few seconds.
Sir Holland would be disappointed.
My aim hadn’t been spot-on. The knife had caught the guard in the throat. Crimson streamed down his arms and darkened his tunic. He staggered forward, falling against the settee. The servant scrambled backward as the other guard rushed me.
He swept out with his sword, and I dipped under his arm, popping up directly in the path of the third guard. He jabbed out with a shorter blade. Cursing under my breath, I grasped the guard’s sword arm. I spun, dragging him along with me. Letting go, I slammed my elbow into his back. The act jarred the already sore bone and flesh, causing
me to suck in a sharp breath as I pushed hard. The guard’s shout ended abruptly in a gasping breath.
I whirled around to see that his partner’s blade had impaled the guard.
“Shit,” the guard growled, shoving the other to the side. The man went down on one knee and then fell face forward, slamming into the low table. The vase of lilies crashed. Water spilled as delicate white petals hit the carpet.
“That wasn’t me,” I said, backing up. The girl had retreated to the wall and…appeared to be praying once again. “That was all you.”
He shifted his blade to his other hand. “More coin for my pockets, I suppose.”
The remaining guard shot forward. He was fast, blocking my stab. He spun out before I could strike again. My gaze flicked to the locked door. There was no way I would make it there and unlock it in time.
“Who paid you?” I asked.
He circled me slowly, eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t matter.”
Maybe it didn’t. I already had my suspicions. I spun, slicing out with the blade. The guard brought his fist down on my arm, right on the bruise. I yelped. The shock of pain rippled through me. My hand opened on reflex. The dagger fell, hitting the carpet without a sound.
The guard laughed under his breath. “For a moment there, I actually started to worry.”
“Yeah, well, don’t stop yet.” Twisting at the waist, I grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on.
Turned out to be an embroidered pillow.
“What are you going to do with that?” he asked. “Smother me?”
“Perhaps.” I winged the surprisingly heavy pillow directly at his face.
He jerked back. “What the—?”
I spun, kicking out and up, catching the pillow and his face with my boot. He grunted, staggering several steps back. I snagged my blade from where it had fallen and snapped up. I grasped the hand that held his dagger and pushed down as I thrust the iron through the pillow. The man howled as red-tinged feathers puffed into the air and dropped his sword as he reached for me. I jerked the blade free, desperately ignoring the soft, wet sound of suction and his shrill screams.
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