Alexander’s jaw tensed. “I was drawn away by a mine collapse, which, I now believe, was a ruse.” He bit back Bertrand’s name, but not the wider truth. “And you have done nothing about the rot I wrote to you about. The purple limyerite. The poisoned bodies. The trade in Bashkor. Itoldyou something dark and foul is moving through this kingdom.”
Ferdinand’s eyes flashed. “I received your missive. Do you think I dismissed it? The charge is grave. It implicates this realm’s very trade and security.” The king leaned forward, his voice lowering to a furious, pragmatic grind. “A king cannot turn his entire kingdom upside down on whispers and suspicion. My duty is to justice, not panic. An inquisition must be built on proof, or it becomes its own kind of tyranny. It. Takes. Time.”
Time.The word was a spark to tinder. Alexander’s restraint burned away. Time was a luxury for men in guarded halls. Not for JingYi, alone on a river with a potential target on her back, hurt by the thought her husband planned to send her away.
A thick, charged silence filled the room. Ferdinand studied him, his gaze sharp enough to flay skin. The unspoken name—Bertrand Fortier—hung between them.
“So the ruse at your mine was not an isolated incident,” Ferdinand said, his tone shifting from anger to a stony, assessing calm. “It was the first move in the open, which means your task has just become twofold.”
He stepped closer, his next words for Alexander’s ears alone. “You must retrieve what is yours while the fox believes the hound is still chasing its tail. Bring the princess back. And if, onyour journey, you happen upon proof of who profits from this chaos . . . secure that, too. A king cannot act on suspicion, but a lord can investigate what occurs within his own borders and threatens his household. Do you understand the distinction?”
Alexander felt a surge of grim clarity. The king was giving him the one thing he needed: a covert license to hunt.
“I understand.”
The king nodded and waved his hand. A steward materialized to escort him out. Alexander bowed and retreated, the doors sealing behind him.
Before, gaining the king’s favour was all he’d cared about. This time, JingYi’s disappointment cut deeper. And now, the grim certainty of a mysterious plot made her flight not just a wound, but arace.
His brows drew together as he descended the stairs into the mist-drenched courtyard. In the cold clarity of the damp air, the pieces locked together. The mine collapse, the damning letter arriving in his absence—it was too clean. Someone had orchestrated their separation, knowing this crisis would consume him completely.
Someone like Bertrand, who needed him gone long enough to scour the ledgers and bury the proof of stolen purple limyerite. Their marriage had been the lever. Her heart, the pressure point. But if this was a trap, then it meant he was walking straight into it.
He clenched his jaw. So be it. Let it spring.Shewas the only thing that mattered.
He stopped by a Wingmaster’s stall to send a Sparo with a brief message to Yrenna:
The cave-in was Bertrand’s ruse. Secure the household, but do not alarm. Let him think his distraction works. I’m going after her.
Then, he boarded the ship bound for Aethonia.
CHAPTER 37
JINGYI
She had braced herself for another long and restless voyage, remembering the ornate Xûen ship that bore her to Tremore—a stately vessel with silk-lined walls and ceremonial oars, drifting more than sailing. That journey from Aethonia to Tremore had taken a full fortnight, but this rice barge slipped through the waves with startling ease.
‘Big ships fancy themselves queens of the sea,’ the old boatwoman had said with a grin, spitting over the side. ‘But they’re heavy with pride and hull. A barge like mine—slim and low—rides the current like a fish.’
By the middle of the fourth day, the misty coast of Aethonia already rose ahead.
For most of the journey, JingYi had remained tucked below deck, hidden among grain sacks and coiled hemp ropes. The woman had warned her several times: It wasn’t illegal to carry a lone traveler below deck, but an unclaimed Omega on board made Alphas hungry and Betas nervous.
Better to keep hidden. Better not to tempt fate.
When the woman finally rapped her knuckles on the plank above, JingYi stirred.
“Come up, girl. Land’s coming.”
She climbed the narrow ladder, her right leg sore from crouching for four days. She blinked against the sudden spill of light. The sky had split open into a wash of pale gold clouds smudging like brushstrokes on silk. And there, rising from the sea like a giant pearl in the middle of the ocean, was Aethonia.
Not just cliffs now, though they came first, dark and cragged. Beyond them, sunlit terraces spilled down the coast, whitewashed houses clinging to the slopes. Domes shimmered in the distance, painted in all shades of blue. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries sharp against the hush of the wind.
Her fingers curled around the railing. Fragile excitement warred with dread inside her.
I made it.
When the boat docked, JingYi bowed to the old woman and stepped off, clutching her medicine chest. Her right leg dragged, but the crowd flowed around her without pause. No one stopped her. No one stared.