He sets his cup aside, as if I haven’t just watched some primal part of him come undone moments before. I feel off-kilter, even though the wall behind me is a steadying force.
“Duty calls. You will dine privately tonight and tomorrow. Take the time to relax and sleep. The ceremony will be long and the night even more so.”
I bow my head, clenching my unsteady hands. “Anything you wish.”
Another sly smile. A few thoughts flicker through me, reminding me that even though I am in the largest city I’ve ever been in, with more people than I can fathom living around me, my life has never been smaller. It continues to divide and subtract until all I am left with is this: memories.
Once the door opens, I see the new lady-in-waiting. Vesilane. She stands beside a few lords and her father, Castien. I slip from the room, and she places her hand on my back.
“Would you like to rest?” she asks brightly.
I nod, and she takes me back to my room.
Waiting outside my door are Merlina and Eslina, the two surviving maids. They do not speak to Vesilane or me as we arrive, but they guide me into the space, help me change for rest, and then let me be.
The room is quiet. Too neat and tidy.
Soon, everything changes. I should savor the present.
Why can’t you tell me more?I demand of Cursed One.
Because of the magic that binds me to you. Because of Arion’s control.
Why would Arion use dark magic at all?
She hesitates.
Arion no longer worships Doros, despite what he might say. He hasn’t for a while.
I pause, looking at my reflection in the mirror across from my bed.
Then who does he worship?
Cursed One is silent for a long moment. For a while, I don’t even think she will respond. And then, she says a name that sends chills up my spine.
Abhartach.
Just like the giants, he mingles with the demon god. The soul-stealer who seeks the dead to create an army and enslave the living.
Isn’t Abhartach also your master?I ask.
Cursed One never responds.
When my meal is brought, I retrieve the bag of herbs Thorne had given me the night before. I consider not taking them. But then find myself pouring them into the tea.
It is the best action for now. I cannot let myself hope for something that can never be.
Chapter 26
VANN
The forest around the palace smells wrong. Too clean. They burned everything last night—blood, silk, bodies—and the ash still hangs in the air. Elves don’t have half as fine a sense of smell as Enduares.
I almost envy them.
After two days of scouting after the attack, I abandoned the south wing for the gardens. I am high in one of the trees I’d snuck past the guards to get to. Luckily, the tree I sit in and the ones around it are tall enough to hide me. There were hundreds of soldiers in and out of the palace, making it a challenge for me to get to Arlet during the day.
I will try during the dark early-morning hours.