by K. A. Linde
“So, there is an us?” he asked with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time.”
“I didn’t come to argue.”
“You never do,” she said dryly.
“Can I come in?”
“I learned a long time ago not to let a courtier in my bedchamber.” She kept the door securely in her hand. “Now, please go.”
“Is that so?” His hand pushed gently against the door. “Would you prefer to come to mine then? I’ve heard you follow court rules that way.”
She glared at him. How dare he come here and talk about Edric like that! Nothing had even happened on the ship.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Yes,” he said with a shrug, “but not much.” He forced the door open despite her hold.
She stepped back and let the door loose enough for him to stumble through. “There! Are you happy? You’re inside.”
He smirked as he closed the door behind him.
She needed to throw him off balance if she was going to get out of here in time. “Have you ever been in the Pearl Bay Chambers before?”
He smiled even bigger. “Of course.”
She walked backward, slow and seductive. His eyes followed the movement, and he cocked his head to the side. He cautiously followed her, judging the movements.
“And the bedchamber?”
His eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips. “Of course.”
“So, you know about the beautiful white bed?” she asked. Her voice was teasing as she entered the bedroom, and her heart hammered in her chest as she taunted her prey.
“Much too big a bed for one person.”
Her eyes darted to the bay window, but she made sure that she looked at the bed, too, hoping to reassure him. Darkness was falling with the sunset.
“Much too big,” she agreed. She licked her lips.
His shoulders relaxed with the statement.
She had him then. By the Creator, it is almost too easy.
Letting out a slow breath, she reached forward and grasped his wrist in her hand, tugging him forward into the bedroom in front of her. He chuckled softly, and it was a low sexy tone of victory as he walked through the door.
When he passed her and was looking off in the other direction, her fingers tightened around the silver candelabra on the dresser. Then, she reeled back, and with every ounce of force, she could muster slammed the thing into the back of his head. He crumpled to the ground in a heap.
She stared down at the Prince of Byern lying at her feet, knocked unconscious by her own hand. Her hands trembling, she replaced the candelabra, unable to believe what she had just done. Never in her life had she resorted to violence to get what she wanted. It felt unnatural, and she couldn’t shake the wobbliness in her knees.
This had better work, or else she would be in some serious trouble.
Despite her shaking hands, she retrieved her hidden bag and bolted out of the castle. She didn’t even hold back from breaking into a sprint down an empty corridor. Some of the servants looked at her oddly, but at this point, she had been delayed far too long. She needed to make it to that dock, or she would be stuck in Albion, in Byern, without any answers and an angry prince.
Her feet carried her to the stables, and she was out of breath when she made it.
Maelia sat atop Astral, biting her nails. “What kept you?” she cried.
“No time to talk,” Cyrene said breathlessly, attaching her bag to Ceffy. She threw herself onto the saddle. “No time at all.”
They heeled their horses into action, heading outside of the inner walls of Krisana and down the drawbridge. Cyrene sent Ceffy into a canter and then a full gallop down the road. The sun sat like a half moon against the Lakonia Ocean.
Only a sliver of the sunset still remained as the horses’ hooves clattered against the wooden docks. Cyrene feared that they were too late. Ahlvie stood at the end of their appointed dock with his horse, a small bag attached to the saddle, and nothing else.
“You’re late,” he called.
“We’re not.” She stared out at the sunset. “There is still light.”
“Quickly then,” he said with a shake of his head that looked like defeat.
They reached the end of the dock just as a long ship pulled up its plank. Ahlvie called and waved his hands at the ship.
“Wait!”
“What say you, boy?” the man asked in a thick Eleysian accent. He had a deep scar across the right side of his face, and his head was much too big for his stocky neck, which mostly disappeared into his shoulders.
“I spoke with Captain Lador earlier this afternoon for safe passage for three to Eleysia,” Ahlvie informed the man.
The man chortled. “Captain Lador was found dead in the gutter less than an hour ago, boy. You’re now looking at the new captain of The Nether Knave, Captain De la Mora,” he said, flourishing his last name.
“Captain De la Mora, it’s a pleasure. Will my companions and I still be allowed safe passage on your beautiful vessel, The Nether Knave?”
“Two Affiliates and a High Order?” He motioned to a crew member. “I’m sure you can find your own way. I have no room for First Class passengers seeking to infiltrate my beloved country.”
“Captain De la Mora, we are seeking nothing of the sort. We are merely interested in visiting your wonderful country and bringing back some of the rich history and culture to our homeland.”
The captain scratched his chest hair. “No Affiliates or High Order got any business in Eleysia. You three best remember that.”
“Please, sir!” Cyrene pleaded.
“Cast off!” the captain yelled to the crew, walking away from the deck.
“Ahlvie, do something!” she cried.
“What would you have me do?” he asked, his face set. “I did everything I could.”
“Captain De la Mora!” she yelled helplessly as the last rope was untied.
The boat began to slowly drift out of the harbor.
Cyrene watched it leave, her heart sinking. After everything she had done to get here, she had lost. No more ships for a fortnight
“What do we do now?” Maelia whispered.
She wished she had an answer. She turned and pulled Ceffy back down the dock.
A dark figure stood at the end of the dock. “What in the Creator’s name do you think you’re doing?” the person asked as she threw her hood back.
Cyrene broke out into a smile and rushed to her, leaving her friends on the dock. “Rhea!” She wrapped her arms around her friend.
“Cyrene.”
They crushed each other in a hug.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Cyrene.”
Rhea pulled back from Cyrene but kept a hand on each of her shoulders. “Now, what is this all about? A cryptic message when you only just got into Albion? I don’t understand.”
“I was afraid of explaining in a letter,” Cyrene sheepishly told her.
“But you were willing to leave without seeing me?”
“No! That’s why I sent the letter in the first place.”
Rhea opened her mouth to speak and then clamped it shut as she looked over Cyrene’s shoulder. Cyrene glanced back to see Maelia and Ahlvie approaching.
“Who are they?” Rhea asked.
“Friends.” She introduced them to each other.
Rhea seemed apprehensive. She nodded curtly. “Why did you ask me to the docks? Where are we going?”
“Nowhere,” Cyrene said sadly. “The ship has left.”
Rhea bit her lip and glanced between all three, who had matching somber expressions. “Come with me. I’ve already broken curfew, and Master Barca will not be pleased. I might as well bring him a reason for it. Maybe we can figure this all out there.”
Through the winding Albion roads, Cyrene walked Ceffy next to Rhea. Cyrene hadn’t wanted their reunion to go like this, but there was no other choice under the circumstances. When Rhea glanced over
at her, Cyrene could tell she was thinking the same thing. She was just so glad to have Rhea back. With her friend at her side, she was whole again.
Rhea leaned against Cyrene and glanced back at Maelia and Ahlvie. “Is this about the letter? Do they know?”
“No,” Cyrene replied just as softly.
“So, there’s something else?”
“Yes. I’ll give you the details when we’re alone,” Cyrene promised.
“As will I. I have some news,” Rhea said when they turned down another street. “About the letter. I’ve been digging through the libraries every chance I get. Have you found anything?”
“Hardly. I’ve had no chance. The Queen hates me.”
Rhea looked at her, astonished by the statement.
“I have a lot to explain,” Cyrene added.
“Clearly.” Rhea glanced back over her shoulder again.
She didn’t trust Maelia and Ahlvie, and Cyrene couldn’t blame her. She had never met them before and didn’t know their motives.
“Let’s talk in private. We’ll have to go to the library anyway for me to show you,” Rhea said.
Cyrene sighed. Now that she had to be here for another fortnight, she would have time with Rhea, but she would also have to account for her actions with Kael and put off her journey longer.
Rhea broke her from her thoughts. “Why does the Queen hate you?”
“Because the King doesn’t.” Cyrene dipped her head to her chin and then glanced back up at Rhea.
“What does that—” She broke off and her mouth dropped open. “The King fancies you?” she squeaked.
“Yes,” she whispered. She spoke nothing of her own feelings.
“King Edric fancies you?” Rhea asked again in shock.
Perhaps Rhea hadn’t been ready to hear that one. And if she hadn’t been ready to hear about the King, she certainly wasn’t going to be ready for the unconscious Prince in Cyrene’s bedchamber.
“Cyrene, I don’t know what to say.”
“I still don’t either,” Cyrene told her honestly.
“Have you…been with him?” she whispered, blushing furiously. “I just mean…I know the King has been rumored to…well, you know. I’m not insinuating that you would ever…just never mind.” Rhea looked straightforward and continued walking purposely.
Cyrene laughed at her and shook her head. “I haven’t.”
Rhea blew out a breath. “Good.” She squeezed her hand. “Life really isn’t the same without you. Thanks for not jumping on that ship and leaving me behind.”
“Ugh, I don’t even want to talk about it.”
“It’s all right,” Rhea reassured her. “Master Barca’s house is around this corner.”
They turned one more corner, and Rhea pointed out her Master’s residence—a plain white square building with only one window facing the street and a high fence. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but it was in a nicer Veda near the castle, so Cyrene had high expectations about the interior.
Rhea opened the exterior door and allowed them to escort their horses through the gate before closing it securely behind her. At the stable yard, an older man took their reins, smiled fondly at Rhea, and even patted her dark red hair. She smiled at him before grabbing Cyrene’s hand and pulling her through a back entrance into the house.
The room they entered was dark, and it opened into a well-lit inner courtyard that rivaled the size of her parents’ mansion back in Byern. Rhea’s Receiver must be an extremely wealthy man to have such extravagance.
As they walked across the garden courtyard, Cyrene noticed that something was off about it. Where fountains would have been among the flowers, strange metal contraptions stood in their places. Cyrene stared at one giant device with a strange circular piece that rotated around another huge circle. She wondered what that was for.
“Just ignore that stuff,” Rhea urged. “I do. It’s easier than asking.”
Cyrene warily looked at her. “He doesn’t tell you?”
“His explanations are more confusing, so I don’t bother.”
“They confuse you?”
Rhea laughed and leaned into Cyrene. “Coming here made me realize how behind I really was. Wait until you meet Master Barca.”
They filed into a ballroom filled to the brim with random odds and ends. The room itself was beyond grandiose, but spider webs hung in the corners of the white walls and in between the pieces of cut crystal in the chandelier. Dust settled on the enormous bookshelves filled top to bottom with obscure pieces of metal, old titleless books, strange rocks, and more that Cyrene couldn’t even distinguish among the rubble. Piles of loose ends were stacked nearly to the ceiling, and pathways had been cleared, revealing the vibrant blue-and-white crisscrossed tile that had once been a beautiful feature of the room. How anyone could make sense of it all was beyond Cyrene, let alone having someone live in this.
“Sorry about the clutter.” Rhea guided them through the maze.
Cyrene glanced back and saw that Ahlvie and Maelia both wore similar looks of fascination in their eyes as they walked through.
“You call this clutter?” Ahlvie asked sarcastically.
“I try to help him pick stuff up, but he tells me that he’ll forget where he put things if I move them,” Rhea said.
“How could he ever know where anything is in this?” Maelia asked the question they had all been thinking.
Rhea shrugged. “He made the piles, I suppose.”
She grabbed a lit lantern on the wall and then entered a tidy small office. Cyrene recognized Rhea’s handiwork all over the room. A sturdy wooden desk with six chairs around it had stacks of books and drawings of different objects. A banister ran all the way around the room at about hip level, and the bottom half was a soft green color while the top was a light brown. Only one bookshelf sat against the back wall, and Cyrene was surprised to see it all but empty compared to what lay on the other side of the door.
“Take a seat.” Rhea pulled out the chair and waited for the others to follow suit. “Now, can someone please tell me what is going on?”
Ahlvie and Maelia looked at Cyrene to begin.
Cyrene sighed. “We’re trying to get to Eleysia.”
“Why?” Rhea lifted her eyebrows.
Cyrene bit her lip. She hadn’t told everyone the same information, hadn’t even told anyone the whole truth. Maelia knew Cyrene wanted to go to Eleysia to complete her training and that the Queen had refused to let her leave. Ahlvie knew they were leaving, and while he might have had the means to leave on his own previously, he had never had the nudge that he needed to go alone. Rhea, of course, knew about the Presenting letter.
None of them knew about the book. None of them knew about Basille Selby. None of them knew that all her answers rest in Eleysia with Matilde and Vera.
“Because I need to go there.”
Rhea narrowed her eyes. “But why?”
Cyrene swallowed and closed her eyes. Then, it all spilled out of her…the whole story. They needed to be on a similar page. She needed to trust them as they trusted her.
She told them about Edric, the unconscious Kael, the envious Kaliana, and the manipulative yet endearing Daufina. She told them about her Presenting letter. She cautiously told them about receiving the book and how she would sometimes seem to lose time when she read it, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell them about the strange swirly font. She remembered Basille Selby’s apprehension, and she wouldn’t repeat that unless she had to. But she did tell them about Master Selby’s declaration about how she had to go to Eleysia to get answers.
Finally, she revealed her connection to all the murders. She didn’t know how that piece fit into the puzzle, but it felt significant.
“The murders are connected to you?” Ahlvie asked in surprise.
Cyrene nodded. “I just figured it out when we got back. So, you see why I have to leave to find answers. There’s something…wrong with me,” she said slowly. “I don’t know what it is
or even how to explain it. I want to make you believe me, but I can’t. It’s something I don’t even understand, but it terrifies me. I’ve been scared, wondering what is happening, if it will get worse, if something else will happen, if I’ll hurt myself or someone else while trying to figure out what is going on inside of me.”
A tear fell and then another one. She couldn’t stop it. She placed her hands over her eyes to try to quell the storm rising up inside of her.
A minute passed in silence before she could continue, “I wanted to tell you all, but I didn’t think you would believe me. So, I’m sorry for deceiving you, even as slight as the deception was, but I need to go to Eleysia. I have to go to Eleysia. I’ll go with or without you, but I’d rather have you there with me.”
She expected disgust, hurt, betrayal, and anger. She expected them to hate her for using her, like Kaliana, Daufina, and even Kael had used her. She hated herself a little bit for it.
All that stared back at her was determination, pity, sorrow, hope, and love. Rhea covered Cyrene’s left hand with her own and squeezed like it just like old times. Maelia slowly reached out and placed her hand over Rhea’s. She nodded once and then smiled.
Ahlvie chuckled softly and shook his head. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “Guess I’m in, too.”
His hand slid across the table and covered Maelia’s delicate hand.
One more tear slid down Cyrene’s cheek. They were going to stick by her, even after all of that, even after she had kept secrets from them. She swallowed hard. For the first time in months, the weight slowly eased off her chest.
As they pulled away, the door to the office banged open, and they all jumped apart.
“Rhea!” an old man yelled, walking into the room with his eyes closed and hands covering his temples. He was incredibly tall with a great white beard and unkempt long white hair. “Have you seen that last sketch I made? And the fandangled thing? I used it last time. Where is it?”
Cyrene stared with her mouth agape. She had no idea in the slightest what he was talking about.
And Cyrene was slightly shocked by the man’s appearance. His clothes were as disheveled as his house. He wore a long brown tunic, reaching nearly to his knees, that was threadbare at the hem and across the seams. He looked like he needed a good scrub down before he would ever be fit to be seen by the public.