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I’d known Prisca was up to something. And yet when she knocked on my door, a part of me was convinced she was here to finish what she’d started yesterday.
One look at her, and it was evident that was not going to happen. Her
face was bone-white, and she seemed oddly fragile. “I need to talk to you.”
I opened the door wider, and she walked in. It had been a terrible day, and I’d spent most of it at Sabium’s side. My head pounded with a rare headache. And yet, the moment the wildcat walked in, my cock hardened in anticipation.
I scowled, and Prisca raised one eyebrow. “What is your problem?”
Sometimes I longed to be able to talk to her about my life. “My problems are my own.”
Her expression turned cool. “Perhaps that needs to change.”
I waved my hand in the way I knew she loathed, gesturing for her to talk.
She glowered at me but took a deep breath. “You need something in this castle, and I could use some help. I think we should work together.”
“You want me to help get your friend out.”
She studied me as if wondering if I could be trusted. I ground my teeth.
This woman.
But you can’t be trusted.
I pushed that thought away and focused on Prisca as she began to pace. She had dark circles beneath her eyes. I considered everything I knew about her, and my blood turned to ice.
“You’re planning to get them all out. Are you mad?” She sighed. “I have a plan.”
I watched her, and she shrugged. “Fine. I have the beginnings of a plan.”
Of course. Prisca wouldn’t be content breaking one prisoner out of the king’s dungeon—a feat that had never been done before. No, she somehow imagined she could get them all out. And with that power of hers, she likely could. But there was no way she could transport them all out of the city.
And yet…
Even if she couldn’t get them out, the chaos that would ensue when the king learned his prisoners were missing? It would be the perfect distraction for my own plans. Perhaps fate would step in and both of us could get what we needed. Hope was almost a foreign sensation at this point in my life, but I felt the dull edge of it.
“How many prisoners are down there?” “Three hundred and nine.”
I winced. Prisca stuck out her chin. Stubborn as a mule. “Are you sure all of them are—”
“Hybrids? Yes. Thieves and murderers are taken to the city jail. I learned something else today too. Those oceartus stones? They’re here for a reason. The king doesn’t just burn the hybrids. He drains them first.”
It made sense.
She put her hands on her hips. “So, if you’re hoping to weaken the king…”
I smiled. “Is that what I’m doing?”
She looked down her pert little nose at me, and I couldn’t help but smile. Surprise flashed across her face, but she recovered quickly. “The king will be even more powerful after Gods Day. Something tells me you would prefer for that not to happen.”
It was a situation I’d known we would potentially have to deal with. A sudden influx of magic for a king who was already rivaling the fae for power. And I would, indeed, prefer that he didn’t receive that power.
Prisca gave me that knowing smile that made me want to strangle her.
Or kiss her. Or both.
I lost myself in a fantasy of my hand circling her throat while I thrust inside her, making it clear that I was still in charge.
“Lorian?”
A blush tinged her cheekbones. She’d guessed where my mind had gone. This distraction had to stop.
“When I took my healer to your friend, we used a tunnel. It has existed for years, and thanks to the fae iron the guards shove down the prisoner’s throats, even if they could somehow get out of their cells and locate the hidden entrance, they’d be too weak to get all the way to the end of the tunnel.”
Surprise and victory gleamed in her eyes. “I know about the tunnel. I’ve been searching the dungeon for that entrance. Will you tell me where it is?”
“Yes.”
I could see her mind processing that information instantly as she readjusted whatever plans she’d been making. Fascinating creature.
“Where does the tunnel end?”
“The central market. Decades ago, the market didn’t exist. It was solely an execution square. The tunnel allowed the guards to take prisoners out directly to their death.” On Gods Day, the streets would run red with blood. Even someone like me—who cared little for the agony of others—could feel the waste of it.
Prisca shivered and turned to pace some more. Each time I watched her scheme, I grew more reluctantly intrigued despite myself. She’d always thought quickly—the fact that she had survived after we’d left her that day was proof of that.
My mind provided me with the memory of her lying next to Galon, her skin pale—so pale it had seemed as if she were already dead. The way she’d pleaded with me and then her eyes had burned, silently vowing vengeance.
That spark had almost been doused like one of Rythos’s fires. My hands fisted at the thought. For the first time, I felt something that might have been…regret.
She turned and peered up at me.
“Your eyes are reverting,” I said. It was dangerous to her. And yet, it was as if something inside me unlocked when I could see the gold flecks in her eyes.
“I know,” she sighed. “The charms are difficult to find right now.”
I was beginning to learn that I hated it, knowing she skulked around the castle using magic that, if I was honest, she should have had years to train with and not days. I loathed that she was often down in the dungeons, where all it would take was one wrong move, one moment of inattention, and she was dead.
The fact that she’d somehow made me care about her like this—to the extent that I was unfocused while on my own task… I glowered at her.
“You take too many risks.”
She gave me that wary look that told me she had something to tell me and I wasn’t going to like it.
“Out with it.”
She spoke casually, but it was easy to see the fear darting across her face. “The seamstress saw my eyes. She remarked on the color. Her face turned white, and she rushed out of the room.”
Then the seamstress was dead.
“You’ve got your murder face on,” she murmured. “I don’t want her to die, Lorian.”
The fact that the seamstress hadn’t said anything yet likely meant she was hoping to wait for the perfect chance to wield that information. At any second, Prisca could be arrested. My instincts roared at me to remove the threat.
“Then convince her not to say a word. And quickly.”
“Tell me something,” she said suddenly. Almost desperately. “One of the secrets you’re hiding. Please.”
I studied her face. Her eyes were intent on mine, her teeth biting into her lower lip. This seemed like some kind of test. And for some reason, I wanted to pass it.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell her my own secrets. If she learned exactly why I was here…
For some reason, the thought of her looking at me with fear and revulsion made my stomach twist.
“The king,” I said, my voice hoarse. “What do you know of him?”
She frowned, clearly not expecting that subject. “He has a son, Jamic, who is away at one of the king’s estates. Jamic has seen nineteen winters,” she said. “And he’ll likely return for the Gods Day ball. According to the rumors, he rarely sees the king.”
Her frown deepened, and I angled my head. “What is it?”
“Just something my mother said. She insisted I find the prince.”
She looked tired. Wrung-out. And yet, it was time for her to know just some of what made Sabium so dangerous. “You may want to sit down.”
Her eyes narrowed on my face, but she sat on the long sofa.
I took a deep breath. “It was the king’s great-great-grandfather who started warring with the fae.”
She nodded.
“And what do you know of Regner’s son?”
“His name was Crotopos. Crotopos died, but his wife was pregnant and his son Aybrias—Regner’s grandson—took the throne. Aybrias’s son was named Hiarnus—Sabium’s father.”
I wasn’t surprised Prisca knew this. Most villagers were taught more about the royal family than they were languages or basic mathematics.
It felt foreign to talk to someone other than my men about the king. But I forced myself to continue speaking. “And what if I told you they were all the same man?”
Her frown deepened, followed immediately by disbelief. Prisca jumped to her feet. “That’s not possible. That’s not how magic works.” Something that might’ve been betrayal had tightened her shoulders. I caught her arm as she moved toward the door.
In a rare moment of vulnerability, she’d asked for a secret. And now, she thought I was lying to her.
No, I realized. She hoped I was lying to her. After everything she’d learned, this was the realization that would sting the most. Her own father had died because her brother had only a scant amount of power left. And yet the king was almost immortal.
“I’m not playing a game. Regner was the king who began taking his subjects’ power. You don’t think it’s possible he could find a way to mimic fae and hybrid long lives?”
She swallowed, her gaze searching my face. “But that would mean… Does he kill the boys he says are his sons?”
“Likely.”
“But how does he step into the younger boys’ shoes?”
“Changing one’s appearance is easy if you have access to the right kind of magic.” I lifted her necklace with a raised eyebrow.
“A small charm is one thing. You’re talking about changing his appearance completely.”
“Easy enough to do with stolen power. Often the boys are sent away for a time when they’re growing from boys into men. That way, he doesn’t need to be exact with their features.”
She shook off my hand, turning to pace once more. How the woman didn’t grow dizzy, I would never understand.
“Sabium is getting old,” she murmured. “At least on the outside. It’s only a matter of time before he fakes his death again. And then secretly kills the boy he raised as his son.” She turned and met my eyes. “He’s truly that evil?”
I cupped her cheek. Her skin was softer than it had any right to be. “He’s worse. He’s evil with the conviction that his actions are for the greater good.”
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There were no more quiet evenings after dinner. Representatives from the villages had begun to arrive, and each night, dancing would commence and extend until the early hours of the morning.
The queen was expected to attend, which meant so were her ladies. Each night after the dancing, I took Tibris down to the dungeons. He’d also begun visiting the other prisoners and working on the wounds in their shoulders. Each time we walked up those dungeon stairs, he looked more tired.
I’d warned him that I might be arrested at any moment. I had to trust that Lorian wouldn’t risk killing the queen’s favorite seamstress. And yet, she hadn’t said a word. I’d caught a glimpse of her yesterday, which meant Lorian was keeping his word. So far.
When I’d told Tibris the woman had recognized my eyes, he’d gotten a look on his face I’d never seen before. “If you get arrested, I’m going to kill Vicer.”
He wasn’t joking. I swallowed. “Maybe you should take a break from healing for a night.”
He just shook his head. “The more prisoners who can access their magic, the better.”
I needed to talk to Lorian. Needed to convince him that if the seamstress changed her mind and I was arrested and executed, he had to work with Tibris to get the prisoners out.
Tonight, I was sitting at our table, listening to the other women as they gossiped. Lisveth rose to dance with one of the king’s advisers—a lecherous old man who insisted on dancing with each of us at least once every night.
Davis Boria had already asked Madinia to dance once, and she’d refused him, claiming her feet were sore. Now, he sat next to his father, his dark gaze continually drifting to her. I would have felt sorry for him, but according to rumors, he didn’t bother asking other women before he touched them. Women whose fathers weren’t close to the king. Women whom he caught in servants’ halls and stables.
Caraceli slid into Lisveth’s empty seat. From the malevolent look on her face, it wasn’t because she wanted to be friends.
“Katina would have loved this.” She leaned close, her eyes cold. “There’s nothing she enjoys more than dancing.”
I kept my expression bored with a hint of confusion. “Is that right?” She gave me a slow smile, and my hands began to sweat.
“I know you had something to do with her removal from court,” she hissed.
I forced my mouth to fall open. “What are you talking about?”
“Unlike the rest of these idiots, I know how things work. No one stumbles into this position like you have. All you needed for your plans to work was for Katina to disappear. And when I find out what you did, I’m going to make you pay.”
I dropped my gaze. Hoping she would think I was intimidated. In reality, I needed to make sure she didn’t pay close attention to my eyes. The other ladies had gone quiet, and Madinia cleared her throat.
I opened my mouth, but a deep voice made me snap it closed once more.
“Setella?”
I took a long, deep breath and forced a smile on to my face, glancing up at the courtier standing in front of me.
Peiter was remarkably handsome, I could admit that much. He was also one of the few courtiers I didn’t want to stab with my dinner knife. With his sparkling blue eyes and blond curls, he had a boyish kind of charm. Almost innocent, which was something I hadn’t seen much of in this place.
But talking to him occasionally felt like walking a tightrope as he asked questions about my village. I knew enough about Mistrun to get the basics right, but I was terrified I would stir his curiosity—and that curiosity would mean he would look closer at who I was pretending to be.
“Will you dance with me?” If he felt the tension at our table, he politely ignored it.
I blushed. “I’m not a very skilled dancer, I’m afraid.”
Across the table, Madinia snorted her agreement. I turned my head, and she raised one eyebrow at me.
I scowled back at her. “Yes, I’ll dance with you,” I said, and Peiter held out his hand.
Sliding my hand into his, I followed him into the smaller ballroom attached to the dining hall. The musicians were playing a lively tune.
“Will you teach me the steps?”
Delight danced across Peiter’s face. “Of course.”
He raised our joined hands, sliding his other hand to my waist.
He led me through the steps, never wincing when I turned the wrong way or stepped on his toes. When he twirled me, I laughed.
The sound shocked me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed.
My stomach twisted. Asinia was huddled in a freezing cell, and I was dancing just floors above her.
“You’re beautiful,” Peiter said.
I attempted a smile, and he slowed our steps. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I said.
Couples whirled behind us, and I froze. Was that…Marth?
Peiter followed my gaze. “Are you sure nothing is wrong?” I beamed at him with everything I had. “I’m sure.”
I glanced over Peiter’s shoulder. My gaze met Lorian’s. He wore a dark scowl as he watched me, and I raised one eyebrow.
He couldn’t possibly be…jealous?
After the next dance, I thanked Peiter and laughingly begged for relief, insisting my feet were aching. He gave a mock sigh but let me go, leading me to the side of the room and gesturing to a servant for a cup of wine.
“Promise me one more dance after you’ve rested, and I’ll leave you to recover.” I nodded, and Peiter grinned at me, turning to stride away.
More and more village representatives had begun arriving today. The queen was sitting at the royal table, speaking to one of the courtiers as she watched some of the villagers make fools of themselves with her husband’s wine. She’d declared all the dancing a waste of time, and today, she had finally decreed that her ladies didn’t need to suffer just because she was and we could go to bed when we were tired. I could count on one hand the number of decent things she had done since I had met her, but that was one of them.
“Enjoying yourself?”
I whirled. “Marth.” I had seen him.
He sidled up next to me, a cup of wine in his own hand as he watched the dancing. His hair had been darkened as well, and he looked tired.
“What are you doing here?” I’d missed him ridiculously. In fact, I was struggling not to beam at him.
He grinned at me, but his eyes turned to ice when Sabium walked past. It was strange seeing malevolence on Marth’s face. He was the lewd one. The one who never took anything seriously. Except bedding women.
“Serving my prince. What else?”
“Mm-hmm. Well, I—” My heart stopped. Marth followed my gaze. “Who is that?”
I stared at the handsome man with the wide shoulders and the grin that invited you to grin right back. My mouth had gone so dry, I could barely get the words out.
“Prisca?”
“His name is Thol. I’d thought maybe I’d see his father here, but not…” My heart cracked as I watched Thol dance. Watched him laugh.
Watched him lift another woman’s hand—just as he’d once done to me.
“What’s wrong?” Marth asked. “Nothing.”
He followed my gaze to where Thol was now dancing, the light from the chandeliers flitting across his handsome face.
“Ah,” he said. “So that’s the way of things. He’s from your village.” “Yes.”
Homesickness struck me like a backhanded slap as I watched Thol. Visiting the city would be the highlight of his life. When he told people back home that he’d danced in the same room as the king?
My stomach swam.
Lorian sauntered past, looking exactly like the spoiled prince he was playing. His gaze met mine, and he changed course, slipping through the crowd to stand next to Marth.
“What are you doing?” I hissed. “We shouldn’t be seen together.”
He gave a languid shrug. “I’m a prince. You’re a pretty courtier. I’m expected to have…dalliances.”
I chewed on that while he murmured something to Marth. Then Lorian was standing next to me.
“What’s wrong?”
If one more man asked me that tonight…
I opened my mouth, but Marth jumped in. As usual. “Prisca’s watching the handsome boy from her village.”
My cheeks burned. Marth was likely only a few years older than Thol, but he spoke of him as if he were a child.
Lorian followed my gaze. “Let me guess. You’re desperately wishing you could walk into his arms and pretend you’re just a normal woman.”
I hated that he’d figured me out so quickly. “Fuck you.”
“Perhaps, if I ever get through those who are already waiting.” He turned toward Pelopia and winked at her. She actually fluttered her eyelashes.
I smirked. “Looks like she has something stuck in her eyes. Must be why she’s blind enough to entertain the thought of you in her bed.”
“Jealousy is a most unattractive trait.”
Smiling, I turned my gaze to where Peiter was waiting for me. Lorian stiffened, and I gave him a haughty look I knew would make him want to strangle me.
“It is, isn’t it?”
Lorian bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. Whatever came out of his hateful mouth next would be vicious.
He leaned close, his breath warm on my ear. I shivered, glancing at Pelopia, who was frowning at me from across the room.
“You talk about saving the hybrids in the dungeon beneath us, but you’re still that scared little girl who is waiting to wake up from a nightmare. You better find a way to stop running away from your fate, because the kinds of people who refuse to accept the realities of their lives are not the same people who free the helpless and enslaved.”
Numbness swept through my body. I stared at Lorian for a long moment. Something flickered in his eyes, but I was already turning away, stalking toward the door.
I was done with this night.
I sucked in a deep breath of fresh air when I reached the hall. My shoes echoed on the stone, the space empty, with everyone either watching or partaking in the dancing.
A huge hand came down on my shoulder. Lorian spun me, pressing me up against the wall.
I glanced down the corridor. This would draw attention from anyone who happened to walk past. “What are you doing?”
He frowned down at me. Something that might have been concern flickered in his eyes. “Why are you so upset?”
I threw my hands in the air. “You just called me a scared little girl.” “And you’ve called me worse.” He leaned even closer, studying my
face.
I shoved his chest. “Are you crazy? Someone will see.” The last thing either of us needed was the court gossiping about us. Gossip would make people look closer.
Lorian sighed. My head spun as he opened the closest door and shoved me inside.
I snarled. “This is going to surprise you, so prepare yourself—Not everything is your business.”
“Everything that concerns you is my business. This is not a game.” His words were flat, but his eyes blazed into mine.
My laugh was so bitter I barely recognized it. “No one knows that more than me!”
He studied my face for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Ah.”
“Ah?”
“The village boy means something to you.”
The air between us grew dangerously hot. I swallowed. “Like I said, none of your business.”
“Did he tell you pretty lies?” Lorian asked softly. “Oh no. You would have told him pretty lies. Because you were never going to stay in that village and have his babies. No matter how much you wanted to. No matter how much you ignored reality and pretended you wouldn’t be burned alive for having the audacity to keep what was yours.”
Something sharp was stabbing into my stomach. “Stop.”
He leaned close. “When you’re crying into your pillow tonight, remember one thing. It would never have worked between you two.”
Sorrow stole the air from my lungs. Rage gave it back. I shoved at Lorian’s chest. Predictably, he caught my hands. “You know nothing.”
“I know that. You wanted him because he was handsome, but most importantly, he was safe. You weren’t meant for a life of safety. A life of kisses on your cheek and mediocre fucking. A life of gossiping with villagers.”
My cheeks burned. “Those villagers are good people.”
“Those villagers would have watched you burn, and you know it.” I flinched. Lorian cursed and released my hands.
Then his mouth was on mine, and I could taste his frustration and fury. The air left my lungs, but breathing was secondary to the feel of him hard and enraged against me.
“Your Thol would never have given you this,” he whispered against my mouth. “And you know that too.” He took a step back. “Until you face up to the reality of your life, you will forever be a victim to it.”
Then he was stalking out of the room. He didn’t look back. I hated him.
Making my way back to my chambers, I threw myself onto my bed. But I didn’t cry.
I was too angry.
