by Amy Tintera
“You’re not who I thought you’d be, Cas.”
“No?”
“You’re so much better.”
He smiled, his thumb rubbing a tear from her cheek. “Stay with me tonight?”
She nodded without hesitation. He took her hand and led her to the bed. She climbed onto the soft sheets. He slipped in beside her and pulled the blankets up, even though they were both still fully dressed. He scooped her back into his arms, his fingers tangling in her hair and his lips brushing across her forehead.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, his breath tickling her forehead. She nodded. “I didn’t want to get married. I was angry I didn’t get to choose. But—promise you won’t tell my parents I said this.” His voice held a trace of humor. “I couldn’t have chosen any better than you.”
He brushed her hair behind her ear, and she reached up, lacing her fingers between his. She brought their hands in close to her chest, brushing a kiss across his knuckles.
“You’re so much better than I expected too,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke.
His legs intertwined with hers, and she knew that in the morning she would regret letting him hold her like this. She would think of how the contours of his body felt against hers, how she could feel him smile when he kissed her forehead. She would remember it tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and she could already feel the pain that would accompany it. The memory of how he felt when he cared about her was going to be the most painful thing after he began to hate her.
TWENTY
“I’M LEAVING TONIGHT.”
Iria’s head shot up at Em’s words, her face crinkling in confusion. “What?”
Em turned to Aren, who was perched on the edge of a chair. They were in the library, at the far end of the room in case anyone got the urge to listen by the door. He was obviously surprised, but also maybe relieved.
“I have everything I need,” she said. “It’s time for me to go get Olivia.”
“You do not have everything we need,” Iria said. “We need for you to stay so you don’t arouse suspicion.”
Iria had a point about that. Surely there would be questions if she suddenly disappeared.
But she couldn’t keep lying to Cas. She’d told him she would come to his room again tonight, and she wanted to do it so desperately, her chest ached.
But she couldn’t look into his eyes and lie. Not even one more time.
“We were planning to attack within a week, probably less,” Iria said. “You can wait a few more days.”
“I need time to get to Olivia,” Em said. “What if they move her after the attack?”
Iria pulled a piece of hair from her braid and twirled it around her finger. “Tell you what. We’ll give you a two-day head start. I’ll confirm when the attack is happening, and you can leave two days before that. At that point it will be too late for them to launch any kind of effective defense, even if your disappearance arouses suspicions. They’ll still be trying to figure out where you went and why.”
Em hesitated. That meant two to three more days in the castle.
Two to three more days with Cas.
What if she used those days to warn him? She couldn’t just let him die when Olso attacked. Was it foolish to think she could attempt to make him understand?
“Fine,” she said quietly.
“Good,” Iria said. “I’ll send word for some warriors to head down to the Vallos Mountains to help you.”
“That’s another thing,” Em said, rubbing her finger across her necklace. “I’d like you to spare Cas in the attack.”
Silence met her words, the only sound the clock ticking from the other side of the room. Aren’s brow was so furrowed she thought it must have hurt to keep it that way.
“I’m sorry?” Iria finally said.
“Em . . .” Aren’s voice trailed off, and he shook his head, as if trying to find the words. “Why?”
“Cas is not the same as his father. He shouldn’t—”
“You have got to be joking,” Aren said. “Em, please tell me you haven’t fallen in love with him.”
Iria snorted. “You’re the only one who hadn’t noticed, Aren.”
“I’m not in love with him—”
“Of course you’re not,” Iria said.
“I know him,” Em said. “He disagrees with all of his father’s policies, and he’ll change things. If you give him a—”
“I can’t . . .” Aren laughed in a way that almost sounded deranged. “I don’t . . .” He shook his hands in exasperation. “I don’t even have any words.”
Em pressed her lips together, fighting back the sudden urge to cry. Aren was staring at her as if she’d just disappointed him for the first time.
“Our orders are to kill the entire royal family,” Iria said.
“Not Cas,” Em said quietly. Aren sank deeper into his chair, moaning as he put his hands over his face.
“Yes, Cas,” Iria said. “And the king, the queen, and Jovita. The entire royal line needs to be eliminated, which, I would like to remind you, was the plan all along.”
“I know it was. But if you allow Cas to talk to your king—”
“I assure you that King Lucio has no interest in talking to Cas.”
“At least give him the option of surrendering his kingdom willingly!”
“Do you really think he’d take that option?”
Em pressed a hand to her forehead. No. She couldn’t see Cas bowing down to the Olso king and willingly surrendering the kingdom he loved. Even to save his life.
“Listen,” Iria said, her tone softer. “I won’t do it myself. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t kill him. But it’s not up to me. There will be a lot of warriors here—at your request, I might add—and they have orders.”
“Fine.”
“Fine? What does fine mean?”
She stood and walked to the door. “It means fine.” She pulled the door open.
She absolutely had to warn Cas.
Cas rounded the corner, smiling at a staff member scurrying past. He’d felt light all day since waking with Mary by his side. He’d been thinking of nothing else but the expression on her face when she agreed to come back to his room tonight. And hopefully all the nights after that.
He turned into the open door of his mother’s study to find both his parents waiting. His mother stood by her desk, tapping her fingers against it with such vigor she was in danger of denting it. His father was pacing the room.
A large portrait sat in the corner. It was of a man, woman, and young lady. Cas didn’t recognize any of them.
“Shut the door,” his mother said.
He pushed it shut, the sound echoing through the room. “Is everything all right?”
“The painting arrived.” His mother’s mouth was set in a hard line, and she had an expression on her face that he’d never seen before. If she’d had a sword, he might have taken a step back.
“The one of Mary and her parents?” He squinted at the painting. He’d never met the king and queen of Vallos, but he didn’t think the dark-haired girl was Mary. Her skin was paler, her eyes lighter, and she had small, graceful features, like she might break if shoved too hard. The man and woman stood just behind her, a hand on each of her shoulders. The man had impressively bushy eyebrows, his light-brown hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. The woman was pale and thin like her daughter.
“I think you were lied to,” he said. “But it was a nice thought.”
His mother’s chest started heaving, like she’d just been running. “They did not send the wrong painting. That is the king and queen of Vallos.”
“Then who is that?” he asked, pointing to the girl in the painting.
“Oh, wake up, Casimir,” his father snapped.
“That’s Mary,” his mother said, her voice shaking. She clenched her fingers into fists at her side. “The question is, who is the woman you married?”
The world tilted, and he graspe
d the edge of the chair as he lowered himself into it. That was preposterous. Who would take her place? Why? Where was the real Mary?
More importantly, who had slept in his bed last night?
“Why?” he managed to gasp out, because his mouth wouldn’t form any other word.
His father started pacing at a speed that made Cas dizzy. “You need to stay calm.”
“I’m calm.” He was too dazed to be anything but.
“No, we have an idea of who she is, and we need you to remain calm when we tell you,” his mother said.
“She was upset about that Ruined prisoner,” his father said, pacing even faster. “It made no sense for her to be that upset about him dying.”
“She thought the punishment was—”
“Quiet,” his mother snapped.
“She handles a sword better than almost anyone.” His father let out a hollow laugh. “And we all know Vallos soldiers aren’t well trained. Even a royal isn’t that good.”
Cas looked blankly at his father. Whatever the king was getting at, Cas hadn’t picked it up yet.
“And then she asked you where Olivia was. Didn’t she?”
“Yes.” Cas’s stomach turned over. “She asked again the other day.”
“What did you tell her?” A piece of hair had escaped from his mother’s bun, like even her hair couldn’t handle this situation.
“I—I told her the truth.”
His parents gasped in unison.
The fog in Cas’s brain suddenly cleared. “You think she’s one of the Ruined.”
His father ran a hand over his beard. “Not just any Ruined, because she doesn’t have any marks. She’s the right age, and the hair . . . the eyes . . .”
“What?” Cas was drowning suddenly, unable to breathe or think or move.
“I think that girl is Emelina Flores.”
TWENTY-ONE
EM RAISED HER hand to knock on Cas’s door. She could do this. Maybe. Probably.
She lowered her shaking fist, taking in a deep breath. She had to warn him, even if it meant angering the warriors. She wouldn’t let him die.
“He’s not there, Your Highness.”
Em turned to see Davina standing a few paces away, a half-eaten breakfast tray in her hands.
“He went to see your painting,” Davina said.
“My painting?”
“I—I thought you knew.” The color drained from the maid’s face. “It’s a painting of you and your parents, after all. I just assumed . . .”
Em’s throat tightened. A painting of Mary and her parents. They knew.
She scanned the area for weapons. Nothing.
“Please don’t tell the queen I told you,” Davina begged. “Maybe it was supposed to be a surprise, and if she knew I—”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” Em turned on her heel, resisting the urge to break into a run. She didn’t want to alarm the maid.
She turned a corner and almost ran smack into Iria. Panic was etched across the warrior’s face. “The queen has—”
“A painting of Mary, I know,” Em interrupted.
“We’re leaving. Now.”
“I don’t have a weapon or—”
“I have one.” Iria pulled her sword from her belt. “Stay behind me.”
Em looked at her in surprise. “You’re coming with me?”
“Do you really think the king is going to believe we knew nothing about you? We arrived right after you.” Iria leaned around the corner. She jerked her head, indicating it was clear to go.
“We need to get Aren,” Em said.
“Koldo’s getting him. We’re meeting away from the castle.” They reached the top of the stairs, and Iria glanced down at the staff moving around the castle. “I think running is best.”
“It’ll attract attention. Do you know if they’ve all seen the painting yet?”
“No way to know.”
“WHAT?” Cas’s scream echoed through the castle, hoarse and furious. Em’s chest tightened, her heart leaping into her throat. She couldn’t think about him right now.
“Running is best,” Em said, grabbing Iria’s arm. “But not here. Back stairway.”
They sprinted down the hallway and to the staircase, their shoes thumping against the steps as they ran. Em slowed until her feet were almost silent. Iria followed suit, whipping her head around as they reached the ground floor.
Em quietly darted around the corner and pushed open the door to the kitchen. It was empty, and she and Iria raced across the room. She dove outside, squinting as the late afternoon sunlight splashed across her face.
“Which way?” Iria asked. “The front gate is going to be tough.”
“Impossible. There are too many guards.” She pointed to the tree Cas used to sneak out. “There. If we can jump the wall, we’ll only have to deal with one or two guards.”
“Where is she?” The queen’s screeching voice drifted out from a window. “Guards, go! Stop her!”
Iria took off and Em followed close behind, leaping over a bench as she raced for the back wall. The tree loomed in front of her, and she grabbed a branch and launched her body up the tree onto the top of the wall. They’d used a rope to climb down last time, and she swallowed as she judged the distance.
Iria hopped onto the wall beside her, and Em jumped before she could change her mind. She landed on her feet—hard—and she stumbled as pain sliced through her legs. She shook them out, relief coursing through her as she realized she hadn’t broken anything.
A guard ran at them at top speed, and Iria crashed down next to her, sword already drawn. Em moved to help her, but a second body smacked into her, knocking them both to the ground.
Arms circled around her, the grip cutting at the air in her chest. She was on her stomach, her cheek digging into the ground.
“Who are you?” a man growled.
She twisted against him, kicking up dirt. One elbow thrust into the guard’s face and she managed to wriggle free.
She scrambled to her feet. Galo stood in front of her, his eyes flashing with anger. He wore his exercise clothes, his hands free of weapons.
She raised her fist and launched it into his cheek as he came at her. He stumbled backward, blinking, and she took the free moment to check on Iria. She was still engaged in a heated battle with the other guard.
Galo moved in the corner of her eye, and she turned in time to get an elbow in her stomach as he swept her legs out from under her. She gasped as she hit the ground.
He reached for her and she quickly rolled out of reach. She jumped to her feet and threw two punches, one right after the other. He returned one that stung against her cheek, but he clearly wasn’t used to fighting without a sword.
She raised her knee and shoved it into his stomach. Galo wheezed, hitting his knees.
A sword appeared next to Galo’s neck. Em’s head snapped up to find Iria standing over him, a sword in each hand. The other guard was dead on the ground behind her.
Em shook her head, reaching for the sword aimed at Galo. Iria gave her a curious look, but handed the blade over.
A face appeared at the top of the wall, and Iria grabbed Em’s arm, trying to tug her away.
It was Cas. He stepped onto the wall, and any hope of him understanding vanished when she saw his furious face.
I’m sorry. The words echoed in her head immediately.
“Let’s go!” Iria yelled, pulling her harder. Em whirled around and took off, the sound of boots hitting the ground echoing behind her.
“Hey!” Cas’s yell followed her, and she ignored it the first time. “Hey!”
She looked over her shoulder to see him standing next to Galo, who was still crumpled on the ground, his hand clutched against his stomach.
“At least tell me your name!” Cas spread his arms wide, his expression a crazy mix of anger and incredulity.
She turned, running backward as she called in a loud, clear voice, “Emelina Flores!”
TWENTY-TWO
EMELINA FLORES.
The name had nudged out all other thoughts and settled in his brain like an open wound.
Emelina Flores. He only heard it in her voice. Saw the way she lifted her chin when she said it, like she was proud of that name and the way she’d fooled him.
The rage burned through his insides so intensely that he could barely feel the sting of the medicine as the doctor treated a cut above his eyebrow.
“I told you to stay calm!” his mother yelled. “Not go chasing off after her!” She stood next to the painting of the real Mary, her face bright red with fury. His father was in a chair next to Cas, a blank expression on his face. He would grip the arms of the chair every minute or so, like his anger was about to burst out of him.
“She was escaping,” he said through clenched teeth. She had gotten away. He could have chased her down, but he’d run after them without a sword, and Iria and Emelina each had one.
That was the excuse he told everyone, anyway. The truth was he’d been rooted to the ground as soon as she stared at him with those wide, sad eyes.
Why had she looked so sad?
The doctor finished treating his wound and quickly scurried out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Cas leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. He was such an idiot for not grabbing his sword before chasing after her. Though he hadn’t thought he’d need a sword today to chase down his wife as she attempted to escape.
He let out an almost hysterical laugh, and both his parents regarded him like he’d lost his mind. He had, maybe.
A knock sounded on the door, and one of the king’s guards opened it. “The other two Olso warriors are gone, along with Aren.”
His father waved the guard away, and the door banged shut as his mother gripped her hair.
“We know where they’re going,” the king said in an oddly calm voice.
“To Olivia?” Cas guessed.
“Yes. I’ll send soldiers down that way. Add extra security to the building. We’ll catch them before they get anywhere near her.”
“Just kill Olivia,” his mother spat. “Send word to have her executed immediately.”
Something twisted inside Cas as he watched his mother’s face contort with anger. “She hasn’t done anything,” he said.
