“Enter,” I call.
The door swings open to reveal Grey. He is windblown and red-cheeked from his time outside the castle territory, and his bracers are gone, but he has returned unscathed.
And alone.
“So it is done,” I say. “She is gone.”
He nods.
I seize the glass and down it in one swallow. “Come in. Close the door.”
He hesitates for the barest moment, then says, “I saw you have doubled the soldiers standing at the edge of the castle grounds. In preparation for Karis Luran’s arrival, I would advise that we station guards at—”
“Grey.”
My guard commander falls silent.
“I don’t want to talk about Karis Luran.” I pull the crystal stopper from the bottle and pour again. Deep red swirls to fill the glass.
He waits.
Without hesitation, I fill a second, then extend it to Commander Grey.
He looks back at me yet makes no move to take it.
“Do not make me order you,” I say.
He takes the glass from my hand.
I raise my own as if to make a toast. A line forms between his eyebrows, but he does the same.
“Forgive me,” I say quietly. “I failed.”
He goes very still, lets out a breath, and to my surprise, drains the glass. It makes him cough.
I raise my eyebrows and smile. “Am I going to find you on the floor in a moment?”
“Possibly.” He shakes his head and takes a breath as if it burned going down. His voice has gone husky. “That is not wine.”
“No. Sugared spirits. From the Valkins Valley. My father always kept some on hand.”
“I remember.”
“I imagine you do.” I wonder if he remembers that my father never let anyone touch it—not even me. The rule was so ingrained in me that it took many seasons before I dared to try it, even after he died.
I drain my own glass, then lift the decanter again. “More?”
He hesitates, then lifts his glass. “Please.” Though he doesn’t look entirely sure about that.
I give a wan smile and pour. “Had I known you would be a willing drinking companion, I would have offered ages ago.”
“Ages ago, I would not have been willing.” He lifts his glass the same way I did a moment ago, then waits for me to mirror his movement. The alcohol hasn’t hit him yet; his eyes are clear and direct. “You owe me no apology.”
He downs this glass with the same speed as the first.
My smile widens. “You truly will be on the floor, Commander.” I nod at the chairs by the fire. “Disarm yourself. Sit.”
When I claim the chair closest to the dressing room, he unbuckles his sword belt and eases into the chair before the fire, laying the weapon on the floor at his side. He’s definitely not drunk yet if he’s keeping his weapons in easy reach.
“Another?” I say.
“Sunrise is not far off, my lord. I should not …”
His voice trails off as I fill his glass for a third time.
Grey sighs—but he takes the glass when I offer it.
I do not wait for a toast this time. I simply drain my own. “Do you remember the night Lilith attacked me and you brought me here, to my rooms?”
“Which time?”
Indeed. “The day Harper arrived.”
“I do.”
The alcohol is beginning to burn its way through my veins, turning my thoughts loose inside my head. “I said I would release you from your oath if I failed to break the curse.”
His expression goes still. “You did.”
I know he is remembering what I asked next: that he kill me if I had not yet broken the curse, and if a sign of the impending change presented itself.
The fire snaps in the quiet darkness.
“I release you from your oath, Grey,” I say. “Once we have met with Karis Luran, I want you to—”
“No.”
“What?”
He tips back the glass and drains this one, then slams it onto the table between the chairs with a bit too much force. He coughs. “I said no.”
“Grey—”
He stands and draws his dagger so quickly that I jerk back, suddenly certain he’s going to plunge it into my chest right here and now.
Instead he flips the blade in his hand and holds it out to me, hilt first. “Use my dagger if you wish. But I will not end a near eternity of service by destroying the very man I swore …” His words begin to slur together. “I swore to protect.”
I snort with laughter, but cover it with a cough. “Put your weapon away before you hurt yourself.”
His eyes narrow and he slams the dagger onto the side table. All the slamming—the glass, the blade—is curious, until he moves to sit and nearly misses the chair.
This time I laugh out loud. “Grey, hardly ten minutes have passed.”
“Blame your father.” His voice is still husky, but now that he’s seated, he looks more stable. “It was his order that the guardsmen abstain.”
“Regardless of the results of my meeting with Karis Luran—and regardless of whether you will grant my final request—I believe you should leave here once the meeting is complete, Grey.”
“And where would I go?”
“You’re a talented swordsman. You would have no trouble finding work. Shall I write you a letter of recommendation?”
“You joke about this.”
“I have failed, Grey. I can drink myself into a stupor and stomp my feet in fury, but that will not change things. Harper is gone. She did not love me.” I pause. “I had thought that perhaps she could …” I let my voice trail off and shake my head. Then I lift my eyes to meet his. “You should go back for her. Once all is said and done. I detected a spark between you …”
He looks away.
“Was I wrong?” I say. “Or did you leave your knives and bracers with another?”
“You are not wrong.” He hesitates, then speaks quickly, tripping over his words in a way that is almost comical. “That is to say—I have never acted to dive—to divert her attentions from you—”
“I know.”
He shakes his head, then does it again more forcefully. “I speak too freely. This cursed drink has bewitched my thoughts.”
“Most people like it.” I pause. “So you will go back for Harper?” The thought tugs at me in an ugly way. I want the best for her. I want the best for Grey. It seems fitting that they might find each other as part of my downfall.
But my failure burns from inside, so much more painful than what Lilith can do.
“I will,” he says.
He doesn’t need the dagger. This conversation is piercing my heart quite well. I pour another glass. “Good.”
“Because she has asked for me to return.”
I snap my head up. “What?”
“Her final order before I left her at her door. For me to return once she has had a chance to settle things with her family. For me to bring her back to Emberfall.”
Now I am wishing I had not imbibed the sugared spirits. My thoughts trip and stumble in an attempt to keep up. “When? Grey—when?”
“Once day hence. Midnight.”
One day. One day.
“Too late,” I say.
His gaze sharpens—or it tries to. “Why?”
Any hope that flared in my chest has burned out quickly and turned to ash. I unbuckle the jacket across my chest, then pull the shirt wide, so he can see the scales.
He does not gasp, which I expect, but instead sighs, then picks up his glass again. “I have changed my mind. Another, if you please.”
I pour. We drink.
We sit in silence for the longest time, until the alcohol begins to send my thoughts drifting toward sleep. The room is warm, the fire crackling invitingly. My eyelids flicker. A part of me wishes I could drift into death right now, as if it would be as easy a slide as sleep.
Not yet. I owe my people this much.
“I
do not recall scales before,” Grey says eventually.
My eyes open. “I thought they were new as well.”
“They’re really quite lovely—” He cuts himself short and swears. “Silver hell. My lord—I mean to say—”
I laugh again, but this time it’s slow. Lazy. “You’re amusing when you’re drunk. I truly feel I have missed an opportunity.”
His expression sobers. “You think Harper will be too late?” A pause. “I could return for her sooner.”
“No. Grey. If you return at all, do it for yourself.” I touch a hand to the scales again, gingerly so they do not cut me. “We may not have one day, let alone two.” I pause. “If not love, Harper saw … promise in me. I would not—I would not have her see the monster I become.”
“It is not—” He cuts himself off and swears again. “I should not speak freely—”
“You should. I have released you from your oath. You have served me far longer than any man should. Speak your mind, Grey.”
He looks at me. “Your time is not up. You have rallied your people. You conceived a plan that I found ludicrous when I first heard it, but you have brought it to pass.”
“Thanks in no small part to you.”
He waves me off. “We have guards. An army. A meeting with the Queen of Syhl Shallow. A country full of people to protect.”
I pick up my glass and fill it again. “Indeed.”
He snatches the glass out of my hand and throws it into the fireplace. It explodes with a crash and a sizzle, and I stare up at him.
“You accomplished these things because you dared to act like you could.” He picks up his dagger and re-sheathes it with a vengeance. “Lilith has not won. Not yet. You have not yet lost. Stop acting as if you have.”
He’s so commanding. So sure. It is no wonder he has gained the respect of his guardsmen so quickly. I smile. Incline my head. “Yes, my lord.”
For a moment, anger flashes across his features, but he must decide it’s not worth it. He drops back into his chair. “You are incorrigible. I have no idea how I put up with you for so long.”
I raise an eyebrow, more amused than anything else. “Is that the drink talking?”
The shadow of a wicked smile finds his lips. “You told me to speak my mind.”
I sit back in the chair. Sudden emotion sweeps over me, thickening my throat and biting through the haze of the drink. “I tried, Grey.” My voice almost catches, but I stop it. “I truly tried.”
“I know.”
“There is no way out. You once said I plan my actions twenty moves in advance. There are no moves left to make.”
“Then perhaps it is time to play like a guardsman, and not like a king.”
I blink at him.
“Stop planning,” he says. “Wait for them—Lilith, Karis Luran—to make their move. You’ve had season after season to dwell and plan and strategize.” He fishes his deck of cards out of the pouch on his belt, then flips them between his fingers to shuffle.
His eyes meet mine. “Perhaps now it is time for you to think on your feet.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
HARPER
Mom has been sleeping for hours.
It’s close to five a.m. now, and I’ve been curled up in bed beside her, listening to the whoosh of her oxygen tank. She smells like sickness. I’d forgotten that.
The longer I lie here listening to her quiet breathing, the more I worry that I’m too late, that she’s going to pass away with me right here, never having a chance to say anything to her.
“Harp.” Jake speaks quietly from the doorway.
I barely lift my face from the pillow to look at him. “What?”
“You’ve been in here for hours.”
“I’m waiting for her to wake up.”
“Sometimes she—she doesn’t really.” A pause. “You need—we need …” His voice trails off.
I know what he needs. What he wants. An explanation. I rub at my tired eyes. The knife-lined bracers are still bound around my forearms under my sweatshirt, and I’m aware of them every time I move.
“I’ll wait,” I say to Jake. “I want her to know I’m here.”
He comes into the room and drops into the armchair beside her bed. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes red. He looks like life has thrown him against the wall a few dozen times—and it has no intention of stopping. He’s changed so much in the weeks I’ve been gone. His eyes are harder than I remember. More wary. I want to throw my arms around his neck and beg him to be the sweet brother I remember.
“She’s asked about you a lot.” He sniffs, like he’s sucking back tears. “I didn’t—I didn’t tell her you were missing. I read about how losing a child can accelerate death in a terminal patient, and I didn’t—I couldn’t—” His voice breaks and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Harper, where were you? Where did you get everything in that bag?”
The question isn’t emotional like the rest of his words. His voice is edged. Almost suspicious.
“I don’t know how to explain.” I’d prepared an explanation about being kidnapped and escaping with the bag of riches, but I don’t want to lie to him. Not like this, sitting on my mother’s deathbed.
“Harper, I need to ask you something.”
Mom shifts and takes a deeper breath. I freeze, waiting, hoping she’ll wake up.
She doesn’t.
I look back at Jake. “Go ahead.”
“Is this—are you working with them?” His eyes, dark and narrow just like mine, fix on my face. He’s never been wary of me. “Is this some kind of trap?”
“What?” I exclaim. “No!” I want to hit him. “I came back to help you.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve been gone for weeks and weeks, and you’ve shown up on the last day we can do anything to survive. It’s all a little …” He takes a breath, but his eyes are still hard. “Convenient.”
“Fine,” I snap. “I was kidnapped by a fairy-tale prince. He made me a princess. He was cursed by an evil enchantress. I had a chance to help him break the curse or come back here—”
“Mom is dying and you’re going to crack jokes? What the hell is wrong with you?” He stands up, looming over me. “Where have you been, Harper?”
“You aren’t going to believe me.”
He leans closer. To my surprise, his hands have formed fists. The tendons on his forearms stand out. “Try me.”
He would be intimidating, but he’s my big brother, and he’s always been my protector. Besides, I’ve scuffled with Scary Grey and half the soldiers in Rhen’s new army, and Jake’s got nothing on that. “What are you going to do?” I say. “Rough me up like everyone else you’ve been shaking down for Lawrence?”
He jerks back, eyes wide. “What? How did you—?”
“Jake?” Mom’s eyelids flutter. Her voice is whisper-soft. “Jake, what’s wrong?”
His throat jerks as he swallows all his rage. “Mom.” His voice is rough and hushed. “Sorry.”
Her head slowly turns. “Oh! Harper. You’re … here.”
Her voice is so weak. I can barely hear her.
I’m crying again before I even realize it. “I’m here, Mom.”
Her eyes fall closed. “I’ve been … thinking of you … so much. Did you … feel it?”
“I did.” I choke. “I did.”
“I’m so proud of you. You’ve been … working so hard.”
I stop breathing. “Mom?”
“She doesn’t always make sense,” Jake whispers, so softly it’s almost under his breath.
“It’s so good … to see you two … together,” she says. “Always … always take care of each other.”
“We will.” I lift her slender hand and kiss her wrist.
Her eyes flutter and she looks at me. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been waiting so long.” A long pause. So long I think she’s fallen asleep. “I love you both so much.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
I’ve been waiting so long to be wi
th her, and now I’m here, and time is running out. It was awful watching her suffer—but now that I’m here, I want more time.
“I love you, too,” says Jake. He’s not looming anymore. His face is drawn and pale.
Mom takes another breath.
And then she doesn’t take any more.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
RHEN
Karis Luran travels with few guards and servants. Her entourage is nearly nonexistent.
Grey and I stand in a high window and watch her carriage rattle into the courtyard. Four guards, two at the front, two at the back. Her guardsmen wear black armor trimmed with green and black, with a steel shield obscuring the lower half of their faces. They carry rapiers, lighter swords favored in the north. They’re quick and vicious and deadly. Her guardsmen look that way, too.
The vehicle is covered with green silk, the horses adorned with silver bells that jingle along the harness. The carriage windows are blocked with gauzy white material that flutters in the breeze. We cannot see in—but Karis Luran can surely see out. My own soldiers line the courtyard, but many are new. Untested. So much of today’s success lies in the actions of others.
Though … I suppose it was always so. Even for my father. I never truly realized.
“Only four guards,” Grey says to me, his voice low. “Revealing weakness?”
“No.” I nod down at the carriage stopping before the castle. “She believes she has nothing to fear.” My original plan was to have her and her entourage welcomed into the Great Hall to wait there for me. A small show of superiority—something my father would have done.
But if she has arrived with such a small traveling party, she has already thrown down the gauntlet of superiority.
Think on my feet, indeed.
“Come,” I say to Grey. “We must meet her.”
I cannot control what music plays in the Great Hall, what food will be arranged on the tables, but today, the melody is light and lively, harp and flute played low, background music for an early-morning gathering. The ladies of the castle have gone to work to make things more festive. For the first time, cascades of autumn colors hang from the rafters and adorn the tables, dark greens and rusted browns and muted gold. The long carpet that leads all the way to the staircase has been exchanged for a newer one trimmed in vibrant gold and red. As I stride across the floor, the guards we have stationed at the base of the staircase move to follow. Grey signals for them to stay in place.
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