The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus
Page 75
“Then I arrived Stonehollow. We had all been taught that dregs were subservient to Gifted. More than that, we were taught that they were dangerous—little more than savages, fighting and killing to survive. Secluded behind Order Headquarter’s walls, I had little reason to believe differently. And then I met you. In your mud-stained tunic with a frizzy mass of hair, glaring at everyone like you wanted to eat them, I could only see proof of what I’d been taught. But then you opened my eyes. I watched as you stayed away from everyone, and they went out of their way to abuse you. I watched as you cared for another dreg instead of eliminating the competition for resources. It changed me in a fundamental way. I couldn’t bear the thought of holding your lifeless corpse after they forced me to kill you. Every day, I’m grateful that Ansel chose to save you. And now, we’re going to save the rest.”
His words left her speechless. How could he have so much faith in her? She stared into his gray eyes intently, as if they contained the answer.
Ethan brushed his fingers down the side of her face, wicking away her tears. She leaned into his touch. His eyes were questioning as he leaned down slowly, giving her time to pull away. She should pull away. It was the right thing to do, yet, her heart beat faster at the realization she didn’t want to. Ignoring the consequences, she closed the distance, tilting her chin up as he captured her lips in a featherlight kiss. They brushed against hers, soft and yielding.
When Mara was a child, she used to make wishes on dandelion puffs then watch the scattered seeds dancing as the wind carried them away. This kiss contained everything she could hope for, and everything she could never have, like the whisper of a promise.
But for now, just now, she needed to pretend.
They stood intertwined for what felt like hours, unwilling to break the magic of the moment. She murmured against his shoulder, “We have to stop him.”
“We will.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Together.”
Neither one of them noticed as the shadowed figure watching them slipped away quietly.
9
The Veiled Dancer, a nightery off third street, stood out like a sole light in darkness to anyone who needed a night of excitement and wonder. Rumor had it that the owner had once owned a cabaret in the inner ring but had been shunned after a torrid affair with Lord Beckingham, second cousin to the emperor. Since then, she’d started her own business in the middle ring, one so successful that the adolescents from the inner ring snuck out to experience life without the overbearing eyes of their parents.
Having had more than a handful of experiences with taverns, Mara left her guards stationed outside and crossed the threshold, prepared to be underwhelmed . . .
And experienced the exact opposite, much to her shock. The faint flicker of candlelight illuminated the room in a forbidden mystique. Behind the bar to her right, two barkeeps hustled back and forth between the counter and the wall of bottles and kegs, keeping the drinks flowing for the thirsty patrons. To her left, metal tables and chairs provided a sleek sitting area. She tipped her head back and gaped at her reflection in the mirror-covered ceiling. Twenty feet from the entrance, shallow stairs led down to a sunken-in area where black-painted booths formed a u-shape around a raised stage in the back of the room. Every surface gleamed as if it had been polished and polished again. She squinted at the pristine floor, trying to spot a spill or a crumb out of place, but it was so clean she could have licked it and not have to worry about contracting poxy.
Musicae playing instruments she’d never seen before could barely be heard over the constant stream of chatter. Draped over the plush red and orange cushions decorating the booths, the patrons socialized in their finest clothes, dressed as though they were headed to the opera.
Mara froze, suddenly unsure that she had entered the right establishment. Compared to the other women present, she felt woefully underdressed. She smoothed the front of her emerald green dress, debating if she should just leave. Then she spotted Alex waving to the man behind the bar. She watched as he created an elaborate drink in a tall glass with red stripes encircling the rim then slid them across the bar. With a drink in each hand, Alex found a booth in the back. Mara hurried to join him, weaving through the growing throng of bodies who danced and swayed to the music.
Alex handed her a drink as she squeezed into the booth next to him. She brought it to her lips, but the smell of the alcohol turned her stomach. Trying to be as polite as possible, she set it down and nudged it toward him before flagging down a passing waitress. After quietly requesting a glass of water, Mara asked, “Why did you ask me to come here?”
He flashed her a shy smile, looking almost embarrassed. “You’ll see.”
Curious, she eyed him for clues. One, he was wearing a fitted white shirt and tan trousers instead of the midnight blue robes of a Guardian. Two, his long black locks were oiled and pulled back from his clean-shaven face. Three—she surreptitiously leaned forward and sniffed—yes, he was definitely wearing some sort of spicy fragrance.
Was he trying to impress someone?
The waitress returned and placed the water on the table before asking if they’d like to order some food. Mara’s stomach rumbled, but Alex waved her away before she could ask for a menu. His leg bounced up and down, and his hands twisted around the glass.
Soon, a new performer took the stage, empty-handed. Words were his instrument as he recited a poem. The audience responded with polite applause, then another Musicae stepped forward with a cello. For an hour, they were entertained by music, singing, and dancing. While it was a nice experience, Mara still had no idea why she was here.
Then she choked on her water when Ella sauntered onto the stage. Long-gone were her gray robes. In their place, she wore a sparkling red dress that positively glowed against her deep brown skin. Her hair had been combed into a natural poof that highlighted her long neck, making her look even more elegant than usual. She’d even rimmed her eyes with coal and stained her plush lips with berry juice.
Alex sat spell-bound as Ella began to sing. Mara got the impression that the nightery could burn down around him and he wouldn’t even notice. Ella’s voice was rich and sultry as she used her Gift to manipulate the air, carrying the enchanting melody across the room until every patron was transfixed on the stage. Mara tore her eyes from the stage and smiled at Alex’s wistful expression. The naked longing in his eyes made her throat tighten. She knew that expression. It was how Ethan looked at her.
“Have you told her how you feel?”
His cheeks darkened. “She doesn’t like me like that.”
Mara tilted her head and rested her chin in her hand. “Have you asked her?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know she doesn’t feel the same way?” Mara pressed on, “Life is too short to waste it on missed opportunities, and if you don’t take the risk, you’ll spend your whole life wondering what could have been.”
“Are you talking about me, or yourself?” Alex pinned her with a hard stare that had Mara backpedaling.
“That’s different,” she said defensively.
“Is it, because from my perspective, it’s exactly the—” Alex broke off as Ella approached their booth. He sat up straighter and rubbed his hands on his trousers.
Ella slid in next to him, her flushed face glowing. “Fancy finding you two here.”
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’re beautiful—uh, your voice is, um, beautiful. I—” he shot a panicked glance at Mara.
Mara stifled the urge to snicker. “Your performance was wonderful. I didn’t know you could sing.”
“My mam and pap sang to me and my brother all the time. After I was taken, I kept singing to keep their memory alive. I guess it’s our legacy.”
Alex leaned closer, a sappy grin on his face. “What is your favorite song to sing?”
“That answer will cost you a drink,” Ella replied coyly.
He wasted no time in getting the waitress’s attention.
“Well, it’s getting late. I should get back to the palace,” Mara said, but she doubted either one of them heard her. She could have jumped on the table and danced, and they’d be oblivious. Good. They both deserved a little happiness.
She stepped outside and started walking in the direction of the palace, trusting that her guards would follow. She probably should have hailed a carriage, but the walk wasn’t far, and it was such a beautiful night that it would be almost criminal to miss it shut inside a cramped carriage. Snow had been cleared off the street but still clung the roofs and awnings like frosting on a cake. The soft glow of lamplight added the illusion of warmth to the wintery night.
It was a full block before Mara realized her guards weren’t following her. She paused, looking back the way she came. Where were they? Maybe she should head back and figure out what happened to them. Then again, this was the middle ring. It wouldn’t take long to reach the gate that separated the middle ring from the inner ring. Resolved, she set off at a brisk pace, eager to reach the gate and the safety it brought.
A wiry figure stepped out from the shadows and into her path, hands tucked inside a dark cloak. Mara scrambled back, fear crawling up her throat. She brought her hands up in a defensive position, ready to call on her Gift if he attacked. Or maybe she could outrun him? The street wasn’t crowded, but there were enough witnesses if this escalated.
He stopped five feet away and tilted his head back so the light from the streetlamp revealed his face. His nose and mouth were covered by a strip of cloth that tucked into the collar of his form-fitting black shirt. Mara lowered her hands and blinked. “Darby?”
Somehow, that was worse than him being a common criminal. At least then she’d have a chance in a fight whereas she had no chance against Darby. She lowered her hands as the realization dawned. If he were here, that could only mean one thing.
“It’s time to collect on our favor.” He held out his hand. In his palm was a tiny vial the size of a thimble with a wooden cork in the top. The clear liquid resembled water, but Mara doubted it was as harmless.
Hand trembling, Mara took it. Tempted to throw it in his face, she held it away from her body as if that offered some protection. Not wanting to know the answer, she asked, “What is this?”
“Poison,” he said bluntly.
Mara gasped, regretting making the deal at all. She’d known there was a possibility they would ask her to do something like this, and she’d agreed to the favor anyway. She swallowed, hoping it wasn’t too late to back out. “And if I refuse?”
Darby’s voice was unforgiving. “You already know the answer.”
She looked back at the poison in her hand. “Who?”
His eyes glinted in the darkness.
10
Mara raced back to the palace, not stopping until she reached the safety of its gates. The guards threw her a few curious looks, but otherwise did nothing to bar her from entering. She flew to her room, taking the steps two at a time. Her lungs burned. If it weren’t for the constant barrage of training these past few weeks, she would have collapsed already.
This was bad. This was very, very bad.
How did she always end up in these sorts of situations? Was it too much to ask to live a nice, quiet life without excitement? Live in a tiny house in the middle of the woods with a couple chickens out back? Instead it was all, hey Mara, we’re going to take you captive unless you agree to be a weapon for the Order, or, Mara, we’re going to force you into a betrothal you don’t want.
Hey Mara, if you don’t do exactly as we say, we’re going to reveal your secrets to the emperor and probably kill you for good measure.
It wasn’t like she intentionally went out looking for trouble.
She could understand how it would look. She did spend an exorbitant amount of time in the outer rings, and she had frequented the underground market more often than a starblossom addict looking for his next fix. Plus, there was the fact that she was literally building and training an army to destroy the Order, but who’s counting?
Okay, so maybe it shouldn’t be that much of a shock. Maybe the only shocking thing was that she hadn’t ended up in more trouble already.
But this? This was as bad as it gets. The poison burned a hole in the pocket of her cloak where she’d stashed it. How was she supposed to handle this? And why couldn’t Darby do it himself? He certainly had the skills and resources for the job. But her? She stood out like a bloodstain against snow. Someone was bound to recognize her, and she would get caught.
But if she didn’t do it then . . .
She burst into her room, chest heaving. Wynn, Tamil, and Oona were sitting on her bed, looking at something between them. At her sudden appearance, Wynn jumped up. “Mara, where have ya been? We’ve been waiting for ya! What—”
“Out!” she barked. Hurt flashed across their faces but Mara ignored the guilt stabbing her in the gut. They couldn’t be here. She tried more forcefully, “Everyone out, now!”
No one budged. She didn’t have time for this. She needed to find a place to hide the poison where no one would find it. If she got caught with it . . . what possible explanation could she have?
The worst part was not knowing what kind of poison it was. Somehow, she doubted it was a benign sleeping draught. She didn’t know if it would liquify the victim’s insides, or melt their skin, or simply make them fall asleep and never wake up. Given that it came from the underground market, it was guaranteed to be awful.
She began to hyperventilate. Why weren’t they leaving?
Oona gave Wynn a long look. Wynn nodded, then they both funneled out of the room, leaving Tamil still sitting on her bed with his back facing her. Mara lowered her voice and tried again, “Tamil, I really need you to leave for a moment. You can come back later, okay?”
He didn’t respond. That’s when she noticed that his shoulders were hunched and shaking, and his breathing was ragged. Concern washed away her frustration and she crossed the room to him. “Tamil? Are you okay? What happened?”
“What happened?” he huffed, though his voice quivered like he was suppressing his emotions. “What happened!” He whirled around, holding a crumbled newspaper in his fist. Tears streaked down his cheeks, and his usually joyful face was twisted with rage. He bared his teeth.
Mara reared back. She’d seen that look on his face before, but never directed at her. Her hands came up defensively and she edged back, keeping her eyes on his hands. He would never hurt her intentionally, she had to believe that, but there was no telling what could happen when his emotions were high.
Tamil threw the newspaper down on the bed. “You tell me what has happened, Impriga, and why you thought it was wise to hide it from me.”
She blinked, confused. Then her eyes found the headline—'Rei Powers Through Lingate: Bring on the Warlord.’ Her heart sank. He’d found out, and judging by his reaction, he wasn’t taking it well. Her ribs felt tighter than the corsets Mary forced her into. She held her hands up, palms out. “Tamil, I can explain.”
“What’s to explain? You knew about this and you hid it from me.”
“I never meant to keep it from you but . . .” She took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to say this gently. “Your father is fighting a dangerous battle right now, and there’s a chance he could die.”
“Do you think I don’t know what happens when men go to war?”
“I was afraid that if you found out, you would try to escape and go to him.” The excuse sounded flimsy to her own ears, and Tamil saw right through it.
“Escape? What, am I your prisoner now, Impriga? How are you better than Cadmus?” he spat.
It would have hurt less if he’d struck her. “No! That’s not what I meant. I was just trying to protect you.”
<
br /> “You think I’m some squalling baby that needs protection? I watched my first man die when I was three years old. Do you think my father told me to turn my head and look away like a weakling? No. He told me to watch until the light faded from his eyes.” His fingers formed a vee and he gestured to his own. “My mother put me to sleep with vipers in my cradle and fed me cobra venom to make me stronger. And you thought I needed to be kept in ignorance.”
As she stared at this stranger, she couldn’t help but remember the scared, trembling child she’d met at Order Headquarters. How had he grown up so fast? “I swear I was going to find a way to get you back to your father, I just didn’t know how.”
“When?” he demanded. “Tomorrow? In a week? A year? Not until after you’d finished building your precious army?”
“I don’t know! As soon as I could.” She closed her eyes and pressed a fist to her mouth. Her shoulders curled inward as a wave of dizziness wracked her body. She couldn’t think. It was too much all at once, and she didn’t get the impression that Tamil would back down. “I . . . Look, things are complicated right now. You’re right. I was wrong to keep this from you—you deserved to know. I promise that if the opportunity had come up, I would have risked everything to get you back home.” His face crumbled as he finally lost control of his emotions. Mara hesitated a moment before sinking onto the bed beside him and laying an arm over his shoulder. “I love you like we’re blood, Tamil. Somehow, I’ll find a way to reunite you with your father.”