Kyrin ignored her and continued to ponder her reflection. Her cosmetics were different tonight as well. Holly had replaced the normal blue on her eyelids with a thick layer of rich, cherry brown and painted her lips deep red like her dress. Combined with the exquisite hairstyle accented by a couple of red roses, she looked nothing like herself.
“Well then, let’s get you to the drawing room,” Videlle said. “Dinner will be served shortly.”
Kyrin surrendered without a word. This was her life now, and she couldn’t fight it despite how her mind cried out to do so.
Though she had resigned herself to what was expected of her tonight, upon entering the drawing room, her heart jumped into her throat. Daican stood as regal as ever in the midst of several other well-dressed men, all strangers except for Sir Richard. Her palms prickled. She willed them not to sweat and bit the inside of her lip. Observing people she’d likely never see again was one thing. Finding herself at the center of the emperor’s lordly acquaintances was quite another. If she made a bad impression now, she would no doubt have to face them again in the future.
She glanced to the perimeter of the room and barely stifled a groan. Collin stood stationed with a handful of other security personnel. The half-hidden smile on his face said he’d noticed the moment she stepped through the door. She had to battle the urge to tug the front of her dress up higher. She could just shake Videlle for making her wear it and insisting on modifications that would further mortify her.
Rattled, she looked down and lightly smoothed her skirt in an attempt to fortify herself. I don’t want to do this, Elôm.
“Miss Altair.”
Her eyes lifted to Daican’s grand smile. At least it caused fewer jitters than Collin’s did. The emperor motioned her closer.
“Gentlemen,” he said as he swept his hand toward her. “My newest assistant, Kyrin Altair.”
He introduced her to each of the men—lords and governors of Valcré’s neighboring cities and provinces. Working both to display poise and do her job, Kyrin took note of their particular responses and mannerisms so she would have something to build on later in the evening. The men greeted her courteously, though a few fell on the cold side, their eyes narrowed in suspicion. She understood the discomfort of such close examination. Even now, the princess’s face flitted through her mind like a ghostly presence.
Once the greeting concluded, the men promptly forgot about her and went on discussing a variety of subjects. Kyrin welcomed this chance to fade into the background and re-gather herself. She stayed on the outside, but listened for anything she might need to know. Just when her heartbeat had begun to normalize, a whisper came from over her shoulder.
“You look stunning.”
She looked back into Collin’s twinkling grin. However, it wasn’t quite as overflowing with confidence as usual. It held contrition, an unspoken apology for the other day. Still, he couldn’t fully mask his appreciation for her appearance.
Kyrin looked away, heat rising up her neck and into her cheeks. Could she just ignore him? If someone noticed, they would probably consider her extremely rude. She cleared her throat, though her words scratched it. “Thank you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his grin intensify, but he stepped back before anyone could catch him distracting her from her duty or neglecting his. She set her eyes on the emperor’s gathering but couldn’t shake the sense that Collin still watched her. No doubt this would continue all evening. The muscles at the back of her neck drew tight again. What she wouldn’t give to have Kaden here to send him one of his “touch my sister and you’re dead” looks. Not that she truly wished him harm, but his attention added one more level of difficulty to her life. How was she supposed to focus on her job when he watched her constantly, especially in this hateful dress? If only Trev had been assigned to security tonight.
Twenty agonizing minutes passed. Why did the air have to feel so close and stifling in such a large room? It was as if an invisible hand slowly squeezed the back of her skull. Never would she be glad to see Davira, but the arrival of the queen and her daughter brought just the distraction Kyrin needed to refocus her fuzzy thoughts.
The women swept in amongst much flattery and admiration. Kyrin’s gaze followed Davira as the princess appeared to drink it all in, but it was only a mask for the underlying disdain lurking in her eyes. A blast of wintery cold froze Kyrin’s insides when Davira cast her a cruel little smile.
With the queen at his side, Daican led everyone into the dining room. Once again, Daniel was absent. Kyrin hadn’t seen him at all since yesterday afternoon. Of course, there were any number of places in the palace he could hide out. Or perhaps he was off “dispatching bandits” again. Whether his absence angered Daican or not, tonight he did not show it. Instead, he told humorous little anecdotes and soon had the nobles chuckling.
A footman seated Kyrin in the middle of the table. A sigh leaked past her lips when Collin stationed himself right across from her. He winked, and Kyrin looked down at her plate before casting a glance at each of the two lords on either side of her. Though both advanced in age, they were complete opposites. The man to her right had a portly frame and a thick gray beard, while the other was very slight with a long hooknose and not a hint of facial hair. Neither came across as particularly sociable, and they paid her little attention. They chose, instead, to devote their time to complaining about ryrik attacks—a constant problem in the Southeast near Wildmor, the ryriks’ home territory.
These grumblings set everyone else to complaining about their own respective difficulties. However, the more the footmen filled their wine goblets, the lighter the mood became. Laughter returned, outweighing the complaints—that is until Daican fixed his eyes on a baron from a province southeast of Valcré near Kyrin’s hometown of Mernin.
“Arther, I’ve heard rumor of individuals turning up near Keaton who are rejecting the worship of Aertus and Vilai.”
Though the emperor spoke in a pleasant tone, quiet spread across the table. Arther, a large man with gray-streaked black hair, paused for the briefest moment before looking at Daican.
“I’m sure it’s just a few random people, my lord. Nothing to be concerned about.”
His voice trembled slightly. Kyrin paused with her wine glass halfway to her mouth when Daican glanced at her. For the first time, his warm eyes chilled her. Their cunning glint matched the very same she had seen in Davira’s eyes. Hand shaking, she set her glass down. He wanted her to pay attention.
“That’s not what I’m told,” Daican responded smoothly. No one probably even noticed his look in her direction. “Aertus and Vilai have placed me in authority over our kingdom. When people begin to reject the gods, they also begin to question my divine authority. So, it is something to be concerned with.”
“Yes, my lord, forgive me. You’re right,” Arther hastened to agree.
“And I’m sure you have no part in this, Arther. You would never hold with rebellion toward your emperor.”
“Of course not, my lord.” He spoke with conviction, but his gaze faltered.
“You will take necessary steps to end this once you return to Keaton, won’t you? We don’t want to see this get out of hand.”
“Yes, my lord, I will do everything I can.”
He swallowed, briefly rubbing his chin, and perspiration glittered on his forehead. Kyrin’s own skin tickled with dampness despite the cold flow of her blood. She didn’t miss the baron’s exhale when the emperor directed the conversation toward someone else.
Kyrin rested back in her chair, done with her meal though her plate remained half-full, and contemplated what she had just witnessed. Why did it leave her stomach in such a jumble of knots? That look Daican gave her. She’d seen him angry, but this was something different. Something cruel. Daniel’s words echoed in her mind. “He’s a cruel man, you know.” Deep down, she hadn’t wanted to believe it. It was easier to live here thinking that just maybe they’d all been wrong about him.
Remembering her job, her attention snapped back to the dinner table, where she found Davira watching her. Their eyes locked, and Kyrin’s air remained trapped in her lungs until the princess looked away. It then seeped out in a trembling stream. Her eyes flicked to the door, and her heart beat against her breastbone. The urge to escape gnawed at her will, but she forced herself to remain seated and prayed for the night to end soon.
But it wasn’t to be. Dessert arrived some time later, and the men continued to talk late into the evening. Kyrin’s grip on her nerves frayed. Even avoiding Collin’s glances didn’t offer a distraction anymore. Images of panicking and making an utter fool of herself tiptoed on the edges of her thoughts. She truly feared giving in to them, but finally, the dinner wound down. Solora and Davira excused themselves, and Daican granted Kyrin permission to leave.
With wobbly legs, she pushed to her feet, gave the lords a weak smile, and stepped cautiously around the table while conversation resumed. At the door, Collin met her. He’d never looked so serious.
He bent down just a little to ask quietly, “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed, though none of the wine she drank had kept her mouth from going dry. “Nothing. I just need rest.”
“Would you like me to walk you to your room?”
She flashed him a vexed look, and he held up a hand. “It’s an innocent offer, I swear. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
Kyrin shook her head. What she needed more than anything was to be alone, and the sooner the better. “I’ll be fine.”
“All right,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on her face as if to make sure.
Taking a deep breath, she walked out and left the dining room and its hum of voices behind. The silent, shadowed halls engulfed her, drawing her toward her room and bed. Good thing Holly would be there to help her. After this, she had little strength left to wash up and change into her nightclothes.
Something black flashed to her right. She spun around to face Sir Richard. The flesh along her arms crawled as she stared wide-eyed up into his dark face.
“The emperor wishes to speak with you.” His low voice rumbled ominously in the dim hall. “Come with me.”
Kyrin’s heart almost thrashed itself to death, and her head felt too airy. Ironic that she now almost wished she had accepted Collin’s offer, foolish as it would’ve been.
Richard’s black brows inched downward, his gray eyes like thunderclouds, when she didn’t move. With a dry gulp, she nodded, and he strode off without another word. She had to hurry to keep up, but her legs threatened to give out. Her thoughts jumbled so badly, she couldn’t figure out exactly where in the palace they were until they arrived in Daican’s office. Richard gestured to a chair near the desk.
“Sit.”
Kyrin obeyed the terse command and rubbed her palms against her skirt. She took a quick glance around to confirm they were the only two present before lifting her eyes to Richard.
“The emperor will be here when he is finished.”
These were the only words he left her with before he walked out and pulled the door closed. The thudding sound of Kyrin’s pulse filled the silence, and her eyes wandered the room. Only a few candles burned, yet they illuminated a fascinating array of art on the walls, and the desk covered in books and parchment begged for further inspection. But she would never leave her seat.
Minutes ticked by. Kyrin’s heart continued to pound and the rich colors around her slowly turned to a more grayish hue. She started when the door finally opened. Emperor Daican strode in first, followed by Richard and Davira. Kyrin rose as they approached her.
“Miss Altair, I apologize for keeping you so late.” Daican’s voice was calm, and he even smiled a little. It would be easy to let it soothe her, but the probing look in his eyes prevented any such comfort. “I was glad of your presence tonight. Tell me, what did you gather?”
Kyrin licked her lips and strained to let her voice break free. “Nothing of much interest, my lord…but…”
That’s when it occurred to her. They were using her exactly as they had at Tarvin Hall—as a snitch—yet this wasn’t the harmless disobedience of children. This carried far more dire consequences.
“But for Baron Arther?” Daican prompted.
Expectation saturated the silence as three pairs of eyes bored into her. She had to speak up. She had no choice.
“Yes, my lord.”
“And what are your thoughts on him?”
Don’t do it. Every sense warned her it was a mistake, but how could she withhold information from the emperor? He might think that she was an enemy—that she sided with Arther. She almost choked on the thick, black fear that rushed up inside her.
“He was nervous. He held himself rigidly when you spoke to him and would not maintain eye contact.”
Daican gave a slow nod. The smile faded. “Tell me, was he truthful in answering my questions?”
Kyrin swallowed, but she had no strength to resist his questioning. “No, my lord. His manner didn’t indicate so.”
Daican glanced briefly at Richard before his gaze settled back on Kyrin.
“That will be all, Miss Altair.”
The night of the dinner lingered in Kyrin’s mind like dark storm clouds threatening to burst open with rain and deadly lightning. Both Lady Videlle and Holly commented on how jumpy and distracted she was. It took a great deal of prayer and two full days before she could push the overshadowing unease to the back of her mind and focus on her daily tasks.
Until Davira came upon her in the library. Kyrin sat at one of the tables, engrossed in a book when the princess walked in. At first, she gave no sign that she was aware of Kyrin’s presence. Kyrin peered at her out of the corner of her eye while her stomach heaved and churned. She avoided Davira at all costs these days. She looked to the door with a longing to run. But Davira would see it for what it was. Elôm, help me. She set her eyes on her book and forced herself to concentrate. Maybe the princess would just leave her alone.
Wishful thinking.
Davira’s voice cut into the silence, as silky and smooth as poisoned wine. “Oh, Miss Altair, did you hear about Baron Arther?”
Kyrin looked up with an internal flinch at the almost inhuman gleam of the princess’s deep green eyes. Slowly, she shook her head.
“Everyone’s been talking about it,” Davira said as if Kyrin should have known. “Apparently, he had a terrible accident on the way back to Keaton. He’s dead.”
Kyrin’s fingers turned to ice, the cold threading up through the veins in her arms until it reached her heart and lungs.
“Dead?” she gasped.
“Yes, dead.” Davira casually flipped through the pages of the book in her hands.
The ice seeped into Kyrin’s stomach now, then to her legs, and finally to her toes. She couldn’t draw a full breath. This was no accident. She knew it as surely as she knew her own existence. Arther had been killed, and she’d been the one to report him to the emperor. What have I done? The world and everything tangible floated away from her.
“Miss Altair.”
Kyrin started, her eyes jumping back to the princess.
“You’re awfully pale,” Davira said. “Are you ill?”
Not a trace of true concern warmed her tone.
“I…I’m surprised.” Kyrin gripped her skirt under the table to keep from shaking. “It’s just unexpected.”
Davira tipped her head as she peered at Kyrin. “Yes, quite.” Her tone was now condescending. She shrugged. “Though, I suppose, in the end, it’s for the best. After all, he did lie to my father, as you pointed out, and therefore lacked true loyalty.”
Kyrin’s throat seized up and wouldn’t allow her to swallow. She almost gagged. Her stomach’s contents wouldn’t have been far behind.
“You don’t agree?”
The dare in Davira’s voice was as plain as the evil in her eyes.
Kyrin licked her stone-dry lips. “I…I’ve always viewed death as a
tragedy.”
Davira’s eyes narrowed, almost snake-like, and she sidled over to Kyrin’s table. Kyrin’s head grew dizzy as if the princess could suck the life right out of her.
“Well,” Davira said, and though she smiled, it didn’t come close to reaching her eyes, “you’d best be cautious about these things. You wouldn’t want anyone to question your loyalty.”
She set her book on the table and left without another word.
Kyrin couldn’t move for a full five minutes, paralyzed like the aftereffects of a nightmare, but worse. This wasn’t just a dream that would disappear with time. Once some warmth returned to her body, her eyes dropped to the book Davira had left behind—a scientific volume on torture and execution. Black dots floated in front of her vision. She gripped the table and pushed herself up, though her legs were like water. They gained just enough strength to rush back to her room.
Safely behind the closed door, she slid to the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest and shook violently as hot tears poured down her cheeks. She couldn’t take it. Because of her, a man was dead, and now Davira surely suspected her of disloyalty. It was only a matter of time before she told Daican, if she hadn’t already. Would they kill her too?
She clamped both hands over her mouth to stifle the sobs that ripped through her chest. Her flailing heart beat with one delirious thought—run. It filled her mind and flooded her system with nearly uncontrollable desperation. But that would seal her fate. They’d just hunt her down, and then she would die. Like a rabbit caught in a trap, she had no choice but to wait and discover her fate.
Rayad stared into the forest, searching every tree and shadow for some sign. Jace had come by twice in the last couple of days, but even then, they traded only a brief handful of words. He usually showed up in the mornings, yet midday had arrived without an appearance. He’d had the habit of spending long hours in the forest back at the farm too, but that fact didn’t help the uncomfortable twisting in the pit of Rayad’s stomach as he considered what he’d discussed with Warin. It was all he could do not to go looking for Jace. But if he had left, he’d be long gone by now without a clue as to where he went. In silence, Rayad whispered a plea to Elôm to bring Jace back.
Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) Page 22