Everyone knew Tramura was even more outspoken against the gift than Rifarne had been under its previous ruler. People had feared her in Blackrock and it hadn't been easy, but in Tramura she would have been hunted down without mercy. She wouldn't have been able to run. She would never even have lived to adolescence. There was nowhere the gifted could hide in Tramura, no spot of sympathy to be found. Did Arnost Lis know his wife was capable of the one thing he despised above all others? Was this why he chained her—as a personal joke only he could laugh at?
“All we need to do is wait,” said Rachael.
Kiana scowled. “You expect me to just let you walk straight into the assassin’s arms?”
“No, of course not. Someone is supposed to kill me tonight while I sleep, if Erimentha was telling the truth. I go to bed, and you hide.”
“I can do that.” Kiana grinned. “Where do you think he'll come from?”
“The last ones tried to escape through the window. It’s the only other way inside besides the door.”
“I’d hear it if they tried to take out the guards first. They'll want to kill you without alerting the whole castle.”
Rachael shuddered at how easily they discussed her death.
“I’ll wait in the corner there.” Kiana pointed at a dark spot opposite the bed. “They'll need to open the window to get in. I’ll know they are here before they set one foot into this room. I won’t let them hurt you.”
Rachael nodded, but kept her eyes open regardless. There were only three ways this could go, and she didn’t want to take chances. If Erimentha had told them the truth, they had a head start. The assassin wouldn’t stand a chance against Kiana. If Erimentha had lied, there either wasn’t anyone coming or the assassin was prepared for resistance, and planned to kill them. Rachael didn’t plan on dying in her sleep. She'd die with her sword in her hand, defending herself and those she cared about.
With her heart racing Rachael went to bed, hoping she was just being paranoid and her time to die wouldn’t be tonight.
The window latch rattled several hours into the night. Rachael didn’t dare move for fear of giving away their plan, but she could sense Kiana shifting in her hiding place. All she needed to do was play the bait, and trust Kiana wouldn’t let her die.
Rachael held her breath when her window was pushed open. The assassin moved without making a sound, and she hated that she couldn’t see. Rachael had always despised not being able to watch her opponent’s movements, but never as much as she did in that moment toying with her life.
The heavy thud of someone falling followed, chased by the sound of something sharp hitting wood. Rachael couldn’t take it anymore and sat up straight, just in time to see a second assassin sink to his knees with a knife buried in his forehead. A knife stuck in the wardrobe where Kiana had hidden.
“Is this all of them?” asked Rachael.
Kiana hurried to her side and shut the window.
“I don’t know. I didn't see anyone else, and it’s been quiet outside. Could anyone come in through the windows in your washroom?”
“No. They’re decoration only, you can’t open them.”
Kiana nodded. “Let me make sure the guards haven’t had any problems.”
Kiana opened the door and dodged the thrown knife flying toward her just in time. Rachael pressed herself to the bed seconds before the sharp weapon dug itself into the frame. She slid onto the floor, and reached for her sword.
“Stay down!”
Rachael dashed toward the door. A second thrown dagger cut her cheek. It burnt, but she had steeled herself for wounds like this during her training. This was the exact reason she’d refused painkilling herbs. It was only her face. She could see fine, and her legs were unharmed.
Kiana was fighting five men at once out in the corridor. Blood trickled down her thigh, but her movements were as fluid as ever. Two men already lay dead at her feet, but the others had circled around her. If all five of them closed in at once, even Kiana wouldn’t be able to get out of it.
Rachael needed to act, or Kiana would die. She buried her sword deep inside the closest assassin’s middle. Kiana saw her moment, and took out two assassins at once. She leapt across the bodies and used her momentum to stab another assassin in the back.
Only one of them was left. The man lunged at Kiana, who dodged but misstepped. The assassin spun, brought his blade around—and sank to his knees when Rachael cut across his back. The blow wasn't enough to kill him, but he was injured.
Kiana was on top of him within seconds. She straddled him, pulled him up by his hair, and pressed her dagger into his throat. “Tell me what you know.”
Before he could say anything, he collapsed.
“Bezcyn!” Kiana shoved him into the floor and got up. “He killed himself.”
“Does it matter? We know Erimentha was telling the truth.”
“Yes, but I hoped to confirm it.” She sheathed her knives, and stepped over the bodies to get to Rachael. “Let me see that.” Rachael didn’t wince when Kiana held her face in place with one hand, and inspected the cut with her other. “It’s deeper than I’d hoped. This might scar. We should get you to the healer.”
“How about your leg?” Rachael hadn’t missed that Kiana was limping. The assassin’s knife must have cut deeply for her to show her injury.
“It’s nothing. The healer can help me once she’s seen to you.”
Rachael sighed. Light-headedness overtook her. “Fine. What about…?” Two dead assassins were still lying in her room. Another seven bodies were out here, as well as her two dead guards. They couldn’t just leave them.
“I’ll let the Sparrows know. Don’t worry, Rachael, someone will come for them. For now, we need to get your wound looked at. I'm worried their knives were poisoned.”
Rachael swayed on her feet as the dizziness got worse. She didn't have time to think about what Kiana had said before she lost consciousness.
Chapter Eighteen
When Rachael came to, she was covered in sweat, and everything hurt. She was faintly aware of a healer rushing to her side and giving her bitter medicine to swallow before seeing to her wound. The disinfectant burnt through her mind’s sleepy haze, but it didn’t hurt as much as her fever-induced dreams.
One second she was in the infirmary, the next she was in a dark room filled with hungry shadows and no escape route. Their long tendrils reached for her and cut her all over, slowly draining the blood from her body. And above them stood Cephy, her smile even more wicked than Aeron's had been.
While Rachael was awake she saw shadows in every corner. Kaida thought her visions were evolving. Perhaps this was why her nightmares felt more real than her few waking moments did. The poison in her system made it difficult to think.
She was hot, freezing, and too weak to move. At the back of her mind, Cephy whispered that even the best antidote wasn’t enough sometimes.
Next to her, Kiana was fast asleep but she grunted and twisted in her sleep, too. The sword had cut her leg deeper than the knife had cut Rachael, but healer Thea was nevertheless positive that Kiana would recover—Rachael was sure the healer had said so, but when and to whom was a mystery. Maybe she’d dreamt that, too—a bit of false hope could be destroyed later. Kiana's skin was ashen, and covered in a thick sheen of sweat. Her breathing came too fast, and her head flitted across the pillow. Fever dreams seemed to be common with this kind of poison.
Cale was lying on Rachael's other side. His breathing was steadier now and someone had washed the sweat off his skin, but he looked no closer to waking up than he’d done before.
She couldn’t quite focus on either of them, like she was watching them die in another nightmare. It was hard to tell the difference.
Rachael would make it up to them somehow. She wanted to help the people who believed in her, and she wanted to prove those who didn’t wrong. Without Cale or Kiana, she wouldn’t be alive. She owed it to them to do better.
Rachael raised a weak hand to h
er cheek, and felt along the smooth cut the assassin had left. Kiana had said it would scar. Did she mind? A scar was proof she had fought and survived. She wasn't ashamed of it, and she didn't want to hide it. She had earned that scar fighting for her life and defending a friend. It was proof she was stronger now than she’d been a year ago. It was proof she wouldn’t be killed so easily.
Her eyes were heavy. She dreaded going back to sleep, but the antidote had other ideas. She was afraid of her dreams. She didn't want to be back in that dark room where the demons fed on her. She didn't want to see the monster her mind was convinced Cephy had become.
But the antidote didn’t care for any of that. Against her will her eyelids fell shut, handing her over to the darkness and the monster.
A light breeze caressed her aching skin. Someone hummed nearby, and when Rachael opened her eyes, warm sunlight chased away the remains of her nightmare. She tried to sit up, but her body didn't obey. Moving had never been such a chore before. Even when her body had been frail from hunger and her feet blistered from ice, she could move and carry on.
Next to her, Kiana was still asleep, but her breathing was more even and her skin had been washed.
A door opened, and Rachael turned her head, wishing she could sit up to see better. The joyful humming stopped.
“She’s still asleep. Queen Rachael won’t be receiving visitors until we can be sure she has recovered enough.”
Someone had come to visit her? The only people she could think of who cared enough were right here with her, and they were in worse shape than she was.
What if Arnost Lis had come to finish her and Kiana? Had he grown impatient with Cale? Would he dare kill her here, with the healer present—or would he simply kill the staff, too?
She knew the answer before she’d finished the thought. Of course he would; it would look like a tragic accident by the time he was done. And she was in no position to run, or defend herself.
Panic and bile rose in her throat.
“Of course.” Her heart jumped at Kaida’s voice. “I will come back later.”
Rachael wanted to object, tell them she was fine or at least awake, but she didn’t know if she could trust her voice to work. “It’s okay, I—” It was a hoarse croak more than anything.
But it was enough. Healer Thea was by her side within moments.
“Your highness! How are you feeling?”
“Weak. Tired.”
“That’s to be expected.” The healer placed a hand on Rachael's forehead, and smiled. “Your fever has gone down. You’ll be well enough to leave tomorrow and rest in your own bed.”
Rachael’s heart sank. She didn’t want to spend another night in this room, but she was in no position to argue.
“You weren’t poisoned as severely as Cale, but I still need to be sure every trace has been drained from your system. I can’t discharge you before that.”
Rachael knew when she had lost. She’d argued with Kiana often enough to know the difference. “How about them?” She nodded to Cale and Kiana, but the movement set the world spinning.
“Kiana has recovered well. More of the poison got into her bloodstream, so her fever calmed later than yours did.”
“And Cale?”
Healer Thea’s posture went rigid. “His breathing is better and his heart is beating at a normal rate again, but he hasn’t woken up. While his precautions have prevented death, I fear he’s taken enough poison to be in a coma. I can’t say how long it’ll last.”
Rachael’s eyes burnt, and she gripped her sheets with both hands. Arnost Lis would pay for what he'd done.
“Would you leave us? I’m well enough to speak with Kaida.”
“My queen, I must insist you rest. It’s not wise to—”
“I’m not leaving my bed, I promise. I just want to talk to her.”
Healer Thea nodded and left. Rachael could just about see her wave Kaida into the room.
Kaida sat on a stool by Rachael's side. “I am sorry I did not prevent this.”
“You couldn’t have seen it coming.” Rachael didn't know if she believed it.
“I am not a prophet like you, Rachael. I cannot see what will be. I can only guess. This time I was incorrect. I did not believe Arnost Lis would attack you so soon after he poisoned Cale.” She smiled. “He is growing impatient.”
Rachael had seen plenty of times in Blackrock what a lack of patience did to people. They mistepped. They were clumsy. “Impatient men make mistakes.”
“Precisely. You were well prepared for their attack. Nine assassins should have been enough to outnumber you. How did you survive?”
Rachael was certain she and Kiana would be dead if Erimentha hadn’t interfered. Letting her slip away was the first error borne of his impatience. She counted on him making more.
“The Tramuran ambassador’s wife came to see me last night.”
Kaida raised her eyebrows. “And what did she have to say?”
“That her husband is behind the assassination attempts. She also said he’s the one who poisoned Cale.”
Kaida’s face grew dark. “Then he needs to be dealt with.”
“She also told me he’d sent another assassin after me, and he would try to kill me last night. Kiana lay in wait to ambush him, but the ambassador sent more than we expected.”
“That explains how you survived. Killing nine skilled assassins is no small feat.”
“I didn’t do much. Kiana killed most of them.”
Kaida smiled. “I can imagine. Your young friend is not someone I wish to have against me.” Rachael hoped Kiana was lucid enough to hear the compliment. “That he sent nine assassins after you while you slept shows us a great deal. He knows he has been found out. He knows he needs to act fast.”
“What will he do now that he’s failed?”
“I cannot say, Rachael, but you would do well to be on your guard. He has shown he is resourceful and without mercy, but even he cannot attack you in public. Beware dark corridors. Fear the shadows that lurk within.”
Rachael doubted she could be any more on her guard than she already was. “Is this what you came to talk to me about?”
“No. I came to tell you about the relics we found inside the temple. Do you remember the armour I found?” Rachael nodded. “I have done what I can to fix it, but it will need the touch of a gifted blacksmith to be restored entirely.”
“I doubt you'll find one here.”
“I know someone across the Far Sea, in Paranossa. I would take it there, and I propose you accompany me. You can rest on the ship, and I can continue to heal you if you need it.”
“You want me to go to Krymistis with you? I don't think I can just leave.”
“Under different circumstances I would agree, but this is no ordinary situation. The Mothers are searching for you. Rifarne is not safe for you right now.”
“And Krymistis is?”
“Safer, yes. I would like to stop off in Midoka along the way. My sisters can offer protection.”
“It’s common for a newly crowned ruler to visit their neighbours.” Rachael’s head spun around when Kiana spoke. How long had she been awake? “I hate to say it, Rachael, but the witch is right. Most of your guests have returned home, and the others are packing up. Meeting some of them in their homes next is tradition.”
If Kaida was offended by Kiana’s slur, her face didn’t betray it.
“I won’t leave without Cale. If we leave him, Arnost Lis is going to kill him before we reach the harbour.” She doubted he was about to pack and go back to Grozma while he still had enemies here. He wouldn’t stay in the palace now her coronation was over, but there were plenty of inns in Rifarne. He knew he’d been found out; she expected he’d go into hiding.
Kaida nodded. “Of course. Be that as it may, we should not waste time. It is too dangerous to stay here.”
Rachael swallowed.
“I’ll wait three days. If he doesn’t wake up then, I’ll leave without him.”
> Chapter Nineteen
The world was on fire. Cale could smell the smoke from the city all the way out here, outside Arlo’s hut. In the distance, the White City burnt, the sky an angry, blackened orange.
No leaves rustled. No breeze disturbed the silence of the forest. Only the screams cut through the quiet, and right into his flesh where hot blood trickled down his skin.
Ailis was humming in the kitchen. The soft melody—Ailis and their mother’s favourite—was the only thing that overpowered the tortured cries for help, and it beckoned him inside.
Something was wrong. He knew that. But he couldn’t stop his feet from walking, and so he entered Arlo’s hut.
His sister stood in the small kitchen, cutting herbs for their dinner. There was so much he needed to tell her. The fires in the distance, the screams of agony, the sky black with ashes—they were all his fault. She needed to know.
“Ailis—”
She turned around, smiled at him—smiled like she’d done thousands of times before, sweet and innocent—and plunged the knife into her heart. And she laughed. Maker, she laughed.
He turned around, needing to run away from this madness, but there was Rachael, bloody on the floor. Her hand reached for him, and he sagged down beside her. He cradled her into his arms, rocked her gently like it could change everything, and cried. Her skin was charred, her wounds were bleeding, and her dead eyes stared up at him, quiet with everything left unsaid between them.
There was a heavy thump behind him. Cale turned his head and found Arlo run through with a sword, bleeding out on the floor. Cale’s parents fell next to him, murdered by Tramuran soldiers. His Sparrows were executed one by one, until every Sparrow lay dead on the ground. Then the fire spread inside the hut, too, and it wouldn’t show mercy and end the madness.
And all the while he held Rachael, crying and crying until the heat from the flames dried his tears.
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