by Jacinta Jade
Because something was happening.
And then she realised.
Out there, something—no, someone—was trying to save her.
Once that thought appeared before her, Siraay grabbed on to it, not even fully sure why, but knowing she had to.
The walls trembled again, then shifted farther away. And kept moving.
Slowly but surely, Siraay could feel their retreat, almost as if she were in a room that had been opened up to let the air rush in.
As the space around her widened ever so gradually, Siraay felt like raking her fingernails down those walls, beating her fists upon them, and screaming at the person helping her to hurry.
But by maintaining a tight grip on herself, she refrained from doing so, knowing that such antics might distract the person who was trying to help her. And either the person fighting for her would beat those walls back enough to save her or they wouldn’t.
After an unknown length of time, the walls began shrinking away faster, until one of them started to tremble and crack.
And new words came through.
Fight. Needed. War. Break.
Each one was like a lifeline that Siraay grabbed on to, feeling herself growing stronger. She moved slowly towards the wall that had cracked, cautious in case it decided to leap towards her again. But it merely trembled as it was forced farther backwards.
Siraay took a step closer, drawn to that crack, more words coming through.
Help. Fighting. Lazy …
Lazy?
The part of Siraay that floated there in the dark seemed to swell in anger, and losing all caution, she attacked that crack in the wall with a thought.
It shattered like a mirror dropped from a height, and then, as if her mind were a river that had been dammed, the rest of Siraay’s self poured in to join her, and she felt herself become a part of that flood, its waters pushing her higher and higher towards the surface.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
WITH A HUGE gasp, Siraay surged upwards from her bed, breathing heavily and rapidly. She panicked for a moment, seeing only blackness before her eyes, but then she registered the sound of something else.
Booted feet, sprinting away.
She tried to throw herself off the bed and run after the person, but she only managed to roll herself onto the floor, landing on something both soft and hard but noticeably cold, at the same time.
One particularly solid point connected with Siraay’s cheek, drawing a hoarse groan from her dry throat as the balcony doors banged open and someone burst out through them, letting in a gust of cool night air.
The noises resulted in another door being opened and warm light spilling into the room from the hallway.
‘Why is the light out? Trelar, what—’ Then a gasp sounded, and the voice shouted out, ‘Lady Siraay is awake, come quickly!’
Other booted feet rushed into the room, and the lights were activated, almost blinding Siraay as she struggled to sit up.
When her hands fumbled on something, she looked down … to see the glassy eyes of Trelar looking up at her.
‘Ugghh!’
She drew backwards with a cry of disgust, rolling herself off the corpse of her servant.
She didn’t resist as warm hands encircled her shoulders, drawing her up and away from the ground and Trelar’s body.
‘My lady—how is this possible?’ Melora’s voice was full of awe, and Siraay was still reeling far too much to snap at her for her questions.
More feet sounded out in the hallway, and then a healer ran in, followed by Zale.
The healer came to a stumbling halt when he saw Siraay standing with the support of Genlie and Melora. ‘Great tangled jungle—the Mother has saved you!’
Siraay rolled her eyes at the male’s foolishness. ‘Saved me but chose to take the life of this one?’ she rasped, indicating Trelar’s body.
The healer gasped again before finally coming to his senses and hurrying forwards to kneel down by the lifeless female. He stretched out his hands to touch her body, jerking them back suddenly. ‘She’s dead,’ he gasped out.
Siraay had had enough of this inept display. She was momentarily weak, yes, but Mother take her if she would let this confusion play out for another moment.
‘Melora, get him out of here,’ she said, gesturing to the healer. ‘Genlie, help me over to that chair over there.’
The females did as ordered, Melora almost picking the thin healer up off the floor as she swept him out of the room.
‘Zale, don’t let anyone else in here unless I command it,’ Siraay ordered as Genlie helped her settle into the chair. She was feeling stronger every moment.
Zale bowed his head and left the room, closing the door behind him.
As Melora came back to stand before her, Siraay said, ‘Quick, check the balcony—someone was here just before I woke. They must have killed Trelar.’
Melora didn’t wait for Siraay to finish the order but strode rapidly to the open balcony doors, drawing her long knife as she did so, while Genlie stood poised before Siraay’s chair, her hand resting on the knives that lined a belt slung around her narrow hips, watching every move her fellow guard made.
After a moment, Melora came striding back inside and shut the doors. ‘Nothing, lady. But someone with enough physical strength could potentially have climbed down from your balcony. Or up,’ she added after a moment’s thought.
Siraay nodded. ‘We have to piece this together quickly,’ she told the pair. ‘Someone was in here, by my bedside, as I woke. But Trelar’s body is cold now, so they must have killed her at least a span ago.’ She peered up into the females’ faces. ‘Why wait so long if they intended to kill me?’
Her guards glanced at each other, then back to her, their faces unsure.
‘Maybe they weren’t trying to kill you?’ suggested Genlie in a hesitating voice.
Siraay looked up at her sharply, about to rebuke the female for her stupidity, when the words came back to her.
Fight. Needed. War. Break.
The person had spoken to her. And what killer would risk breaking in and speaking to their victim at length before fleeing the room, job unfinished?
No, the person who had fled had been helping her. Had saved her somehow. But why had they killed Trelar?
She glanced at the females before her. ‘Where is Wexner?’ She had noted he hadn’t run in with Zale.
‘He was doing a scout of the palace, lady, in the duration before he and Zale were to switch duty with us,’ explained Melora. ‘I expect by now he has returned.’
Siraay narrowed her eyes, a suspicion forming. ‘Go check the door—now. See if they are both there.’
Melora spun and walked swiftly to the doors, flinging both open.
Two silhouetted figures met Siraay’s eyes. Their heads shifted curiously, but Melora merely pivoted towards Siraay and nodded.
Siraay frowned. ‘Close the doors.’
Melora complied, then walked back to stand before her once more.
Siraay did some quick thinking. Someone had healed her. Someone who had the same gift she did. But they hadn’t wanted anyone to know who had done the healing. They had even killed Trelar to hide the fact.
But they had known enough to sneak into her rooms while her guards were close to swapping shifts.
She raised her eyes to Genlie. ‘Send word to Lord Chezran that I have awoken and am recovering quickly, but dissuade him, if you can, from coming here at this time. Explain that I will, following more rest, meet with him tomorrow.’
Genlie nodded, swallowed, and then left the room promptly.
Siraay turned her gaze on Melora. ‘It seems I have both an enemy and a saviour within the walls of this palace. And somehow, both managed to get to me without my personal guard knowing.’ She gave the female an icy look. ‘You and Genlie will stay in this room and stand watch tonight, while those two remain outside.’ She nodded her head towards the door, and Melora nodded.
‘Also, have a messa
ge sent to Archon Renhed. Let her know that I wish to see her first thing in the morning.’
Melora nodded again and then walked towards the door.
‘Oh, and have those two remove this from my room,’ Siraay ordered, waving her hand in disgust at the body still lying by her bed.
She frowned down at the dead female as Melora opened one of the doors to the room and exchanged a few quick words with the males standing outside.
How annoying, Siraay thought. Now she would have to find a new servant.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
‘YOU ASKED FOR me, lady?’
Renhed’s voice broke through Siraay’s thoughts as she stood on her balcony, observing the city which was just awakening. She turned her head slightly towards the spymaster.
‘I did. Join me outside, would you?’
The archon did, stepping out past the balcony doors, but Siraay saw her pause at the sound of the doors closing behind her and the scrape of another person’s boot on the stone.
Siraay shifted her focus back to the view before her, knowing that the spymaster was eyeing off Melora, who now stood guard on the balcony before those doors, just as Genlie stood guard on their opposite side within the room.
No one, not the spymaster, or even Chezran, would pass through those doors until Siraay had the information she needed.
She shifted now to regard the female archon, the neutral expression on the spymaster’s face well matched by the one Siraay herself wore. She knew that Renhed must know something about what had happened to her, but the female was doing an excellent job of looking innocent and curious as to why Siraay had asked her there.
There were two ways Siraay could play this. Exchange pleasantries and other small talk until she managed to cajole something out of Renhed, or use a direct approach.
She wasn’t in favour of using the first strategy—she was done with the game she had been playing with the spymaster. Done with the hints and suggestions.
‘Archon Renhed,’ she said formally, ‘I like you. I think I can help you rise to the position you once told me you desired. But to do that, I need to know who tried to kill me.’
Renhed opened her mouth to respond, but Siraay raised a hand to stop her.
‘Wait. I need to explain something to you first. You know what I’m after here. And I need to make that happen soon. But I also need to deal with an enemy who can apparently reach me in my quarters with poison. So my patience, therefore, is very limited right now.’ Siraay twisted away from the spymaster, looking back out to the horizon, her calm countenance underscoring her words better than any glare or threatening tone could. ‘So I ask you not to test my patience today, because the consequences’—she peered over the balcony railing, eyeing the drop to the ground below before turning back to Renhed—‘could be severe.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Tell me what you know about who tried to kill me, so I don’t have to tell Lord Chezran why I lost my temper with one of his archons.’
The spymaster’s expression hadn’t altered during this short speech, but she had grown still. Not that she had been moving beforehand, but it was as if any looseness in her body had evaporated, leaving a listening stone in its wake.
Siraay was still too, knowing that this was the moment where she would either gain the complete confidence of the spymaster, or have to utilise her sevonix form and eliminate the archon altogether.
Either way, she would leave this balcony with either a solid ally or one less obstacle.
She was ready for both outcomes, her mind already stroking awake that inner core of power. She didn’t know what the archon’s other form might be, but Siraay strongly doubted it would be a match for her sevonix.
And because she was tapped into her power just enough to have enhanced her hearing, she heard Renhed’s breathing drop to a deeper breath just before she began speaking.
‘I respect your strength. And, if you keep your end of our original agreement, then I will tell you all I know.’
Siraay gave a curt nod, deciding to stall any further action for the moment.
Renhed smiled, seemingly satisfied with her safety. ‘I had my people look into the poisoned drink. Who was in the kitchens at the time, who touched the platter from the moment it entered the palace to the moment it came to your door. I questioned a lot of people, and found out that only those who should have been in the kitchens at the time were there, and I know that none of the servants there would risk their position, or their life, by poisoning you.’
Siraay exhaled through her nose, frowning at the spymaster. If that’s all the archon would have Siraay believe she knew—
But the spymaster raised a hand, forestalling any judgement. ‘So I looked at it a different way and questioned the servants again. And learned something interesting.’ Renhed paused a moment for effect. ‘The tray that was used to carry the food and drink to your room was different to the one the cook had originally placed the meal on.’
Siraay stared at the spymaster, unsure how that fact helped.
Renhed grinned once more. ‘It was like an unravelling a knot of vines, really. Once I had one end, it was simply a matter of following it through all the loops and turns.’
Siraay arched an eyebrow. ‘I assume you’re getting to a point soon?’
The spymaster seemed unfazed by Siraay’s blunt tone as she smiled again. ‘The cook remembered that the tray she had used for you had a distinct knot in the wood, just off-centre of its middle. A favourite of hers, it seems. But when I had her take me through the steps used to prepare your food, apart from vehemently denying any of the food she had prepared had been rotten, she remarked upon the difference when I placed the tray of leftovers before her.’ The female archon moved forwards to stand at the balcony with Siraay. ‘It seems someone switched your tray after it left the kitchens with another. And that same someone used rotten food.’
Siraay’s brows narrowed. ‘Someone?’
Renhed glanced at her. ‘I tracked down the movements of other meals that had been prepared in the kitchens that morning. Two people ordered a tray just like yours, one a bit earlier than you, and one just after, but only one of them returned a tray to the kitchens with the markings the cook described.’
Siraay swivelled her whole body to look at the spymaster, breathing faster. ‘Who?’
Renhed continued to gaze at the view. ‘I went down to the study where that tray was delivered. And found the poison they put in your drink hidden within a storage box there. The room is only used by the attendants of archons and captains in the inner circle, but only one person’s attendant used the room that particular morning.’
Siraay stepped closer to Renhed, and her voice almost sounded foreign to her ears as she asked again, ‘Who, Renhed?’
The spymaster returned her gaze steadily. ‘Kecein.’
Siraay’s mind blanked. Kecein? Who was that?
Her expression must have communicated her ignorance, because the spymaster said, ‘She’s one of Atalia’s personal attendants.’
Icy cold flooded through Siraay, followed by the heat of adrenaline as her enemy was confirmed. She glanced away from Renhed and out to the edges of the city again.
‘Thank you,’ she said flatly.
‘What will you do?’ The archon’s voice was calm and nonchalant, as if they were merely discussing a training session or the movements of troops.
But now Siraay had somewhere to direct her anger, which burnt with a fierce intensity deep within her.
Before, Atalia had merely been a rival. Someone she’d had to keep an eye on, like the other female’s here who were driven to seek power. She had always thought she might need to do something about the head tactician, but it would have been subtle. An accident, maybe, to put her out of commission. But not murder—too risky.
But now, Atalia had made a direct attack upon Siraay. And made the error of not killing her outright.
Siraay would not make the same mistake.
The spymaster, of course, already knew wh
at Siraay would do, if not how she would do it. It was why the female hadn’t come to tell Siraay immediately once she had learned who was behind the attack—she risked much in telling Siraay before reporting to her lord.
And Siraay knew that the spymaster, who played all sides, had also lost an ally by telling Siraay. But it had been time to force her hand—to make her choose.
So Renhed really was asking about the how. How would Siraay deal with this betrayer, this lesser female, who had directly challenged her and attempted to remove her from the game completely?
Siraay smiled out at the world, the coldness of her expression matching the cool kiss of air against her scarred cheek.
‘I’ll take her head-on. Tonight. Where she will least expect it.’ And at a moment that Siraay could turn to her advantage.
Her smile grew wider as a plan built in her mind. Yes. Tonight, all the pieces of her plan would come together.
She spoke once more as the spymaster made to leave. ‘Don’t mention anything you’ve learned. To anyone.’
Renhed’s steps halted a moment, then she said quietly, ‘Of course.’
Siraay gave a discrete nod, and she heard the balcony doors open and close as the spymaster was permitted to leave.
‘Lady?’ Melora’s voice came to her, the one word full of questions.
Siraay turned around. ‘Pull out the blue dress and see that it’s in a suitable condition.’
She looked back over her shoulder once more at Xarcon City, and the edges of her mouth curled up in a terrible smile.
‘I need to make sure I look my best tonight.’
***
The rest of the day was spent in rest and preparation. Without a female servant to assist, Siraay called on Genlie and Melora to help her get ready for the evening, also calling in Wexner and Zale so she didn’t have to repeat her plan twice.
She paid no mind to their watching eyes as she undressed before them—Zale looking amorous and Wexner seeming stunned—and then settled herself into her bath, detailing the points of her plan and giving them orders all at the same time.
She made sure the males knew their roles for the evening by the time she was done with her bathing, then sent them back out to guard the hallway, letting Genlie and Melora help prepare her in silence.