by Ann Aguirre
“Enough,” she said through her teeth. “This is enough, there will be no more.”
“Easy. Remember your cover story,” Ferith cautioned.
At this hour, they were already loading the crates of produce onto vehicles, supplies that Ruark had probably paid only a pittance for, demanding it as tribute, as part of his noble entitlement. Pulling his heart out with her bare hands would be too good for him.
She adjusted her expression to match the story they were selling and stepped hesitantly toward the workers.
“Sir? Could I have a moment of your time?”
The man idling near the front of the Rover did a double take when he saw her, so she guessed her disguise must be effective. “You’re a long way from home, miss.”
He thinks I’m Animari. Perfect.
“I have no choice,” she whispered. “My family won’t let me be with the one I love. Even if I die, I have to see him at least once more. Could you help me?”
She got a skeptical look in exchange for her best acting. “What’re you saying?”
“He works in the kitchen at Braithwaite. I’ve tried to get a message in, but it doesn’t send, I’m not sure why.”
The driver spat. “That Ruark Gilbraith is a paranoid bastard. I’m sure he has jammers, controlling messages in and out. Worried about traitors and spies, they say.”
It’s assassins he should fear.
“Well, I just want to see Eldred’s face one last time. I’ll help you unload your boxes in exchange for a ride in. I’ll just speak with him for a moment and leave with you. Isn’t there a way you can help me?”
“Your family disapproves?” the driver guessed.
“His too.”
“They would. But it does seem heartless not to let you say farewell. I suppose that’s why they sent him to work at Braithwaite? Best way to keep you two apart.”
“I know,” she said sadly.
“I’d like to help, I would, but I’d be risking more than my job to smuggle you in, sweetheart. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Thalia widened her eyes, hoping she looked sweet, harmless, guileless. “You need more motivation? Well…I have this. It belonged to my grandmother.” She spread her fingers to reveal the flower pin, sparkling in the sun that was trying to rise above the trees. So far it hadn’t banished the mist.
The driver smiled and plucked it out of her hand. “We have a deal. Put on a hat and some goggles, ride in back and keep your eyes down. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
Time was ticking away, and every moment Raff lost, he wouldn’t get back again. Not because he might fuck up and Gavriel might impale him as a result.
His problem was something else entirely. The longer he spent away from Thalia, in bitter, icy silence, the worse he felt. By now he couldn’t even breathe for the panic tightening on his heart. He told himself, she’s fine, she’s probably fine, but not knowing, not having her within arms’ reach might drive him crazy. Already, he was itchy as fuck, pacing like a caged animal in the cold, echoing chamber that felt so lifeless without her.
She might be facing down Ruark Gilbraith right now. Might be dying on his sword. Fuck, she could be a lifeless skull, just like Tirael, atop Gilbraith’s walls. Certain Eldritch customs were just fucking sick; it was absurd they considered the Animari less advanced.
At least we don’t poison each other and train our children as assassins.
Sometimes he could believe the allegation that the Eldritch had bred the Golgoth for battle, eons ago, because both peoples were both brutal and terrifying. The Eldritch just hid it better, behind delicate manners and quiet elegance.
Commander Olwyn stopped him in the hall, his eyes full of questions. “I hear you’ve put the staff on rations. How long can we hold out?”
“I’m not sure. You’d better talk to the chatelaine.”
This is all too fucking heavy. He heard his old man then: “Why are you pretending? You were never good for anything but drinking, fucking up, and running away.”
Sometimes he thought maybe it would be better if his father was dead, because then, maybe he could forgive him. But he’d gone quietly mad instead. Sometimes the old bastard was a half-feral wolf, and sometimes he was a pathetic soul who cried endlessly and asked for Raff’s mother. He couldn’t even hate somebody like that.
It was getting hard to breathe and Olwyn was still talking. More troop questions, more strategic meetings? No fucking way.
Before he made the conscious decision, he was running, out the door and through the hallway. Though it was dark, he could see perfectly well and navigated the labyrinth of corridors to the courtyard, where he demanded they open the gates. The guards didn’t question him, just as well, because he only had a head full of fear and rage, no words to temper his snarls. If they’d thought he was a beast before, his behavior tonight would confirm all their worst doubts.
Better to get out and run, clear his head, and maybe he could get some information from Titus’s people. If Raff was lucky, he might even run into some enemies that he could chew to pieces. Outside the gate, he stripped and tucked his clothes beneath a tumble of stone. It wasn’t even cold enough to make him shiver, and the night was clear, stars glittering overhead like they had somebody to impress.
He didn’t know what shifting felt like to anyone else, but for him, it was a relief, like letting go of the strings that kept him in man-shape. Sometimes Raff thought he was supposed to be a wolf; that was easy and natural. Being a man? Hard as fuck.
In wolf form, he ran, blending into the lengthening shadows. Part of him knew this wasn’t responsible. He should stay put, keep being the tower of power that everyone else could lean on, but he could feel himself unraveling.
If he took a break, he might be able to wait for her. Calmly, with composure. She had to know none of this shit was his strong point, and she’d just left, like that, leaving behind only a fucking note. As a rule, Raff didn’t memorize things he’d read. He couldn’t recite poems or sing along with music he heard. But that goodbye letter was etched on his heart.
I’ve gone to kill Ruark Gilbraith. If I succeed, I’ll be back. If not, you’re free to do as you wish. Well, you’re free anyway. Please look after Daruvar in my absence and extricate yourself safely from our territory if I fail. –T
No salutation, no closing, not even her whole name. He couldn’t cry in wolf form, but he could howl, and he did. Not at the moon, but at the torrent of conflicted emotions rioting through him. He hated her, he wanted her back, he wanted to burn something down and hold her tight, all at the same time.
Why the hell does she do everything alone?
It was him; it had to be him. He’d been too honest about his flaws and, so she knew too much to trust him when she needed someone most. These thoughts were killing him, so he cut them out with ruthless dedication and focused on the wind in his fur, the damp earth beneath his paws, and the myriad scents hanging fresh in the early spring air.
His head finally, blissfully empty, he ran down a rabbit and ate it raw. Then he was calm enough to search the trees in the zones Titus had shown him. The first three spots had no new markings, but toward the border, he found trail sign, recently left, too. He recognized the scent as one of the Animari who had met up with Titus at the cabin, but not a person he’d encountered in the flesh.
It had taken him hours to memorize their code while Sky alternately sobbed and slept, but now he could read the word left behind. Enemy on the move from the east. That would be Gilbraith’s people, maybe coming for Thalia’s head. Just as well she’s not here. Raff didn’t think Ruark would lead the assault. Everything he knew about the asshole suggested Gilbraith was a coward.
First, Gilbraith tried to coerce Thalia into marrying him, then he went after her using a secret, hidden half-sibling. What’s the next move?
Suddenly the idea hit so hard that he practically saw sparks. Gavriel. If he returned now, nobody would question it and he’d have access to anything he wa
nted inside the fortress. The scenario Sky had glimpsed in her vision might come to pass under one circumstance—if that red-eyed bastard betrayed Thalia and came for her on Ruark’s payroll, he might easily shift targets when he found only Raff instead. Not out of frustration, but to weaken her support.
If I die, Korin will cut our losses and step out of Eldritch business. Leaving Thalia alone against her enemies.
The rabbit roiled in his stomach. Like a dumbass, he’d run off without telling anyone where he was going. Daruvar was essentially open for the taking, if someone had clearance to get inside. But that was probably just Raff’s wild imagination working overtime.
Gavriel loved Thalia. That devotion had been clear to pretty much everyone at the conclave.
Yeah, and watch how fast a twisted love goes bad. Loving someone who didn’t love you back? It could drive you to desperate, unforgivable acts.
Dread gave him wings as he raced back to the fortress, half expecting to find it in flames when he crested the steep hill. It all seemed quiet enough when he crept up to the walls, but caution never hurt. Silently, he shifted and dressed, out of the guards’ sight, before signaling at the gate for entry. They shone a light down and watched for a good two minutes to make sure his arrival wasn’t a trap.
“I’m alone,” he snapped as the heavy iron doors finally ground open. “Has anyone else come tonight?”
“Just Gavriel and Magda,” the sentry replied.
Shit. It’s started. And I don’t even know what chain of events I need to stop.
28.
“I have to go alone,” Thalia said.
Ferith clenched her fists and paced, eyeing her like she wanted to protest. Finally, she answered, “Did you even try to make up a story that included both of us?”
She shook her head. “This was the most believable, and one person seems harmless enough. If I added you to the mix, how would I explain it? You’re not even in disguise.”
“True.” The Noxblade let out a long, exasperated breath, but her eyes were dark with worry. “If anything happens to you—”
“Then I wasn’t meant to lead. Don’t hesitate to swear fealty to whomever emerges on top in the grapple for the throne.”
A sudden slap rocked Thalia back on her heels, and she gaped at Ferith, tasting the blood now trickling from her mouth from where her inner lip split against her teeth. She touched her mouth in silent shock, but there was more startlement to come.
Ferith glared at her. “If you go in with that mindset, you will fail, and you will die. We came to win, your highness. I’ll do my best to get in on my own and back you up, but if I can’t, your brain and your blade will carry the day. Do you understand?”
Her eyes teared up, not from the pain. Nobody had ever cared enough to slap her before. Not even Lileth. Ferith…Ferith is my friend. She’d never had one before, at least not so that she was certain. It was all distance and protocol and etiquette, endless years of it.
She blinked away signs of weakness and nodded.
“Yes,” Thalia said.
She didn’t waste her breath on any last words. Whatever it took, she’d get this done and meet up with Ferith afterward. Raff, too. She felt strong enough for that confrontation as well. Without a single look back, she hurried toward the vegetable truck and found the vendor waiting at the back.
He hesitated, studied her split lip and then said, “Was that one of your boyfriend’s relatives?”
Ah, he saw that.
Thalia lowered her head, pretending to be too cowed for eye contact. “Yes. She didn’t even want me to say goodbye to Eldred.”
“She didn’t have to hit you,” he muttered. “Well, get in back and keep quiet. If they inspect the goods, let me do the talking.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Raff would laugh at her impression of a meek Animari female, mostly since she’d never met anyone who fit that profile, but her people didn’t have much experience with them, so this was the best way to elicit sympathy. She hopped into the cargo area and the doors closed. Two or three men got in the front, and the vehicle juddered into motion.
Good thing they didn’t search me for weapons. If we pass through security, things could go sideways quick.
Most wars were won on the battlefield, but this one would be fought in secret, and it would be over in seconds. I will prevail. I must. But now that she was alone and moving forward with no way back, fear settled into the open spaces, the shadows and the doubts she’d hidden in her heart. Tirael’s words haunted her.
You’re not better. Not more royal or more worthy. You’re just luckier.
Well, if that was true, let it continue to be so. A little chill prickled across her skin, then—a possibility so improbable that it had never occurred to her, not until this moment. She thought back to all her near misses, the times she should’ve died, and might have, if not for some unlikely twist of fate or a quirk of—
Luck. That’s my gift.
Her whole life, she’d thought she didn’t have one, but it was just so quiet and subtle that she’d missed it. Until now.
It was only a hypothesis, but if she was right, the gift of good fortune would be why even the most improbable plans broke in her favor. Now that I know, I can factor for it. There also remained the potential that she was completely wrong, and that if she tried to call on it to make Ruark Gilbraith die, she would be bitterly, brutally disappointed. At the worst possible moment. On the other hand, using her gift consciously would burn a lot more of her life than tapping it accidentally, as she had been doing.
It doesn’t matter. Even if I only live as long as the Animari, I can still accomplish a lot. If I defeat Ruark Gilbraith.
Her mind made up, she closed her eyes and tried to activate her gift. She’d always avoided discussions of the subject, she had no idea how other people went about using their abilities. For all Thalia knew, it might be different for everyone. Nothing popped in her mind, no sparks flickered from her fingers, so she had no idea if her luck was active when the vehicle stopped.
She couldn’t see where they were, but they had paused once while she was trying to activate her luck, and she’d heard the grind of heavy gates being opened. We must be somewhere inside Braithwaite by now. Like she had been instructed, she stayed quiet despite the movement outside.
Booted feet moved around the perimeter, and she heard voices, the low rumble of laughter, but she couldn’t make out what was being said. Tension brought her shoulders nearly up to her ears, and she tried to make herself smaller, as if she could will herself invisible. Heh, if I could do that, I wouldn’t have needed to get help from a provisioner.
The back doors popped open and soldiers dressed unmistakably in Gilbraith colors stared at her with icy eyes. Then they leveled their weapons on her. “Come out.”
“Sir?”
“Step out of the vehicle. Now.”
Fight or comply?
She had only a split second to decide, then the vegetable dealer stepped into view. “It’s all right. I told them you’re my new helper. They just need to do a routine scan, that’s all. As long as you’re not smuggling anything into the house, you’ll be fine.”
Thalia strangled the hysterical impulse to laugh. Like weapons or poison? She didn’t want to kill the man who had been kind enough to get her this far, but if a fight started here, he would sound the alarm and tell the other guards what she looked like, if she left him alive. I’ve got to buy some time.
“Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous,” she whispered.
Thalia inched forward, making it look like she feared their weapons, when in fact, she could’ve taken them away in three moves. Two more to kill both guards. But she wasn’t ready to reveal herself yet. Not unless this encounter went bad.
“Here she comes,” the vendor said.
When she emerged from the stack of crates, she watched the guards’ tension level ratchet down. Physically, she didn’t appear to pose much of a threat. They couldn’t see her brac
ers or her hidden twin blades. The minute they started searching, though—
Stop it. Bring on the luck.
She focused hard, reaching, and then she heard it, a soft whispering chime in her left ear. Maybe it didn’t mean anything, but she relaxed a trifle as she dropped from the truck onto the loose gravel of the drive. No paved roads inside his compound? Ruark really was a cheap bastard. She mustered a faint smile for the sentries and the vendor clasped her shoulder.
“No worries, this is business as usual. We’ll be on our way in two minutes.”
“Take off your glasses, miss. We’ll start with a retinal scan.”
Oh, fuck, Thalia thought.
And something to west exploded.
Six hours earlier
Raff eyed Gavriel, but so far, the Noxblade hadn’t produced the spear from Sky’s vision. At the moment, he was pacing, fists clenched, after hearing that Thalia had gone with Ferith on what might be an impossible mission. He’d punched Raff in the face over letting her go alone—fair, so he’d taken the hit—but when Gavriel came at him again, Raff sidestepped and slapped the asshole in the back of the head.
“Enough. We have to decide how to proceed.”
He still didn’t know if he could trust Gavriel, as the treachery scenario still burned bright in the back of his head as one possibility, and he hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Mags privately yet. She might know if Gavriel had turned; she would have noticed any sketchy behavior or clandestine meetings. Picking up on that shit was her job in Ash Valley.
Most of him wanted to say, ‘fuck it’ and rush to Thalia’s aid, but a small portion couldn’t desert Daruvar when she’d left the place—and her people—under his protection. He also couldn’t see leaving the fortress with Gavriel, given what Sky had foreseen. Maybe that made him a superstitious fool, but he had to plan his course carefully and pick the path that didn’t end in tragedy.