Betrayed: Ruby's Story (Destined Book 4)

by Kaylin Lee

  Prince Estevan studied me for a moment. “Fine. I’ll send him home.” Belle nudged him. “Would you … ah … like to speak with him before he leaves?”

  I swear it, Ruby. You can trust me, he’d said, all the while lying through his teeth. I just want to protect you. I thought of his cold, distant expression after he’d successfully tricked me into revealing Grandmother’s address.

  Lucien was a good man. I believed that was true.

  It didn’t mean I could trust him, however. After all that had happened, I didn’t think I could trust anyone. “No, thank you.”

  Chapter 45

  The Falconus art studio was not as glorious as I’d remembered.

  It still smelled like goldblossom perfume, and the beautiful, polished wood furnishings and floors still made me want to sigh with happiness.

  But the heat from the suffio embers in the hearth was overpowering, and the windows looking out over snow-covered Galanos Avenue didn’t seem quite as high as they’d been in my memory all this time.

  “—been looking forward to this for months now!” Mage Fortis smiled at me over a delicate cup of coffee. “Shall we begin?”

  She and Lord Falconus exchanged secretive smiles, and I wished I could fade into their fancy leather couch and disappear.

  While I’d been in Draicia, their flirtation had gone from subtle restraint to outright courtship. Due to Prince Estevan’s new mage regulations, mages were now considered regular Asylian citizens. That didn’t mean the Procus set approved of Falconus and his beautiful, talented mage, but the couple glowed so happily, I didn’t think either of them cared.

  I forced a smile. “Let’s begin.” I shuffled the papers I’d grabbed from my old dormitory. The script had been sitting on my desk, right where I’d left it three months ago. “This is just the first draft, mind you. But once I have your feedback, we can finalize it for the actors and begin recording soon.”

  “Excellent.” Lord Falconus tapped his copy of the script eagerly. I’d given them copies of the draft a few days earlier.

  One month had passed since the Masters disappeared from Asylia. One month since Lucien had been kicked out of the city for a second time. I’d spent a few days recovering in the luxurious, private hospital Lord Falconus had paid for, and now I was back at the Herald dormitory, trying to figure out what to do with myself. I couldn’t bring myself to open my journal. I flipped through it once, and the sight of Chloe’s beautiful, sad profile made me slam it shut. I couldn’t face Draicia. I just couldn’t. But I couldn’t seem to face Asylia now either.

  I still hadn’t given Lord Falconus an answer to his offer of patronage. Every time I opened my mouth to do so, the words stuck in my throat. The dream I’d cherished for nearly two years now felt paltry and colorless. It had faded while I’d been in Draicia, and I didn’t have anything more vivid to replace it. Still, I felt obligated to give them the script I’d already drafted, so here I was.

  “I love the part where she confronts the villain.” Lord Falconus rifled through the papers toward the end of the script. “I’m not sure the stakes are high enough. We want the listener to feel her fear, to understand how much she must sacrifice in this moment.”

  His words faded as I stared blankly at the page.

  She’s barely even begun to cry. Cold fire burning across my face. Tingles ripping into my skin. I shivered and set down my script. I still felt the curse in my mind, still felt the exact sensation of an invisible force flaying my skin. We are not in the business of forgiving animals.

  “—you feeling well, my dear?” Mage Fortis looked uncomfortable.

  I stared at her for a moment. That familiar, kind face—the stylish, blonde hair and the glittering violet gown that matched her violet hairband—so pretty, so familiar, just like … “No.”

  Lord Falconus cleared his throat.

  I shook my head, attempting to clear the memories away. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice shaky. “I just got distracted for a moment.”

  A servant entered the studio, drawing their attention away from me. “Correspondence, my lord.” The man bowed to Lord Falconus. “You wanted it brought to you?”

  “Yes, of course.” Lord Falconus sounded relieved. “I’ll take it now.” He flipped through the stack of envelopes and held one up. “Aha! News from the north. That will be encouraging, won’t it?” His smile looked forced as he avoided looking at me and opened the letter. “Still no trace of the dwelling you found, Ruby. They’ve combed the entire forest around that frozen waterfall. Nothing. There’s a clearing, like something once was there, but nothing resembling a building remains. Not even the foundation.”

  I squeezed my hands in my lap. How much magic had it taken for them to transport their entire dwelling somewhere else? How many aurists had been used up to do it? And where were the Masters now?

  “But the last of the Westerners have been healed of aurae and moved safely to Asylia,” Falconus continued. “So that’s good. Very good,” he murmured to himself, nodding as he flipped through the rest of the envelopes. Then he frowned.

  “For you, Ruby.” He held up a worn envelope with a note attached in Grandmother’s handwriting. “Your grandmother says it arrived at the Herald today, and she thought you’d be here.”

  I took the letter from him, my heart pounding when I saw the Draician postmark. Lucien? But the handwriting on the envelope was Professor Kristof’s. I held the letter for a moment, then I shoved it into my sweater pocket. “Thank you, sir. I’ll read it later.” The thought of letting my messy, chaotic life in Draicia spill into the tidy Falconus art studio made me uncomfortable.

  Mage Fortis smiled gently. “Actually, I think we all could use a break. And there’s … ah … something I must attend to back at the compound. I’ll need help. My lord? If you would come with me for the … um … thing?”

  Falconus raised an eyebrow but let her tug him to his feet.

  “Ruby, you may stay here as long as you like,” Mage Fortis said hurriedly. “It’s nice and warm in here, and we made a whole pot of coffee, so take your time.”

  “Is something wrong with her?” I heard Lord Falconus whisper to Mage Fortis as they put on their coats by the door.

  “Shh!” Mage Fortis poked him, and I tried to look like I wasn’t listening. “She’s been through a lot, hasn’t she? Perhaps we put her back to work too quickly.”

  “Perhaps.” Their voices faded as they left the studio.

  I rubbed my eyes and went to the hearth to dampen the suffio embers. A real, wood fire would have been much more comfortable right now. I poured another cup of coffee and went back to the couch, kicked off my boots, tucked my feet under me, and began to read.

  ~

  My dear Ruby Contos,

  It is time for my confession. I’ve been reading your articles in the Herald for five years, so of course I guessed your identity the moment we met in the market. Please, forgive my deception!

  I’m an old man nearing the end of a long and not particularly easy life, but I have not been without moments of joy. Chief among them was the morning I met you and realized the Herald had sent their best reporter to save my city. I resolved then to do whatever I could to help you.

  You will be pleased to know that Chloe has overseen the administration of purifying crystals to every aurae and questus user in the city, applying her usual zeal and fastidiousness to the task. Astrid’s mother is recovering her health, and occasionally, her daughter.

  There is talk among the clans of abolishing the office of Praetor or perhaps returning it to its original use, an elected office that can only be held for a short term by a representative who does not come from any one of the clans. It would be a wise step, in my opinion, to make the city more difficult to take off course in the future. But in the meantime, simply seeing the city free of aurae is worthy of celebration. I know you would appreciate the sight as well, if you could see it.

  Would you like to see it?

  There I go, abandoning su
btlety. Who has time for tact?

  I will be clear: Ruby, if you would like to return, there will always be a place for you at the University of Draicia as my assistant or perhaps as a student. Or as both?

  ‘Boundless honor to every soul, and worth without restraint.’ You have sacrificed much for the undeserving, my dear. Your safety. Your comfort. Your dignity, and very nearly, your life.

  Thank you for all that you’ve done for my city.

  I ask only one more thing: Do not forget that your life is worthy of the same sacrifices, and there are many who would give up such things for you. (Especially in Draicia.)

  Yours,

  Professor Kristof

  PS. You should know that a certain former Wolf has become my most dedicated student. Your influence, I am sure.

  Chapter 46

  Two days later in the middle of the afternoon, Sebastian popped his head into my office at the Herald. He looked hopeful and a little sheepish. “Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”

  “No.” I smiled to soften the abrupt rejection. “But thank you for asking me.”

  He shifted his feet and put his hands in his pockets. “What about a walk? The new mage-craft market just opened yesterday. We could go see it together.”

  I leaned back in my chair and sighed. “Fine. I’ve been wanting to see it.” I stood and shrugged into my red sweater and my winter jacket. “But you understand my answer is still no, right?” Sebastian was kind, intelligent, and handsome, but he just couldn’t compare to Lucien. I was honest enough to admit that much, at least. To myself.

  Sebastian nodded, but his eyes glinted with humor. “As friends. We’ll walk as friends, and if I manage to change your mind while we walk, then …” He wiggled his eyebrows. “We can re-evaluate dinner.”

  “I won’t change my mind,” I said, but I couldn’t help softening as I said it. Sebastian’s easy manner and steady humor were contagious.

  The new mage market in the Merchant Quarter was only a fifteen-minute walk from the Herald. We made the trip quickly in the crisp, cloudy afternoon. The last snowfall had been three days ago, and the footpaths were well shoveled. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering whether the footpaths in Draicia would be shoveled clear of snow, too, now that the city was free of aurae and questus.

  How long would it take the city to recover from over a decade of plague and poisonous, life-stealing curses? And a century of clan warfare, on top of that?

  I felt like one of the colorful pendants at the entrance to the mage market—distracted, fluttery, and barely tethered.

  I couldn’t go back to Draicia. That would be dangerous. Foolish. Pointless. I’d gotten the story, and the Masters had disappeared. Why would I go back to the city that had tried to kill me at least three times?

  Now that I knew my Western ancestors hadn’t been responsible for the plague after all, I finally felt like I could enjoy Asylia for what it was—a beautiful, imperfect city full of magic, commerce, and hardworking people. Asylia deserved a second chance from me, didn’t it?

  But did Asylia need me?

  Draicians deserved a future of light and beauty. Equal dignity. Equal worth. Maybe I had a greater role to play in Draicia’s future than simply ridding it of aurae.

  Perhaps, as Lucien had once said, aurae was just the beginning.

  “—you see that? This market is amazing!” Sebastian tugged me over to a stall inside the market entrance. A young woman stood behind the stall, grinning widely as bright, sparkly children’s toys bounced wildly on the table. “My nieces would love these.”

  When the vendor nodded, Sebastian grabbed a shiny, orange toy butterfly and tossed it into the air. It hung suspended, in front of his face, whirring happily and flapping its little wooden wings. He went to snatch it, and it darted away just out of reach. He crowed with laughter and began to bargain with the vendor as I made my way to the next stall.

  The market was noisy and crowded, with at least fifty different stalls running down either side of the alley. Everywhere I looked, something was glittering, bouncing, whirling, or otherwise making wide-eyed shoppers gasp with delight.

  “Ruby, what do you think?” Sebastian returned to my side, a brown-paper package under his arm. He picked up a little glass pot of shimmery, clear liquid from the nearest stall and puckered his lips.

  I laughed. “I’ll try it, I guess. Procus lady lips are going to be in fashion now, right?”

  The vendor showed me how to dab the soft liquid onto my lips and then held up a mirror. At first, the mage-craft gloss was clear and shimmery. A moment later, it darkened to red, then plum, then pink, and then it settled somewhere between plum and pink with just a touch of sparkle.

  “It will adjust to your coloring, miss. The hue lasts for most of the day, even if you steal a kiss or two.” She winked at Sebastian. “Only ten marks!”

  I lowered the mirror so Sebastian could see the color. “What do you think?”

  He stared at my mouth a little too long before he fumbled with his wallet and shoved a wad of marks at the vendor. “It’s pretty good. I mean, pretty. It looks good.” He laughed as his cheeks reddened. “Here you go.” He handed me the gloss. “If I can’t take you to dinner, at least let me treat you to something.”

  I took the gloss and tucked it into my pocket, unable to keep from smiling. “Thank you. You’re very kind, Sebastian.”

  He rolled his eyes and held out is arm. “Kind. Just what I was hoping you’d say.”

  I accepted his arm, and we strolled farther into the market.

  He paused for a moment, staring off into the crowd with a distant gaze, and then he turned to me. “You have a beautiful smile, Ruby,” he said, but his expression was troubled. “I’ve known you for three years, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen your genuine smile before today. Why is that?”

  I released a long breath. “This city … these people …” I shivered and pulled my coat tighter. “It hasn’t been good for me. Grandmother is so strong. She doesn’t care who threatens her or what horrors she sees. She keeps on pursuing the truth, whatever the cost.”

  Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, but I pressed my hand on his arm. “Let me finish. It’s not that I’m weaker than she is, not really. I know that now. I’m just realizing that evil and suffering seem to leave deeper marks on me. And for most of my life, I’ve felt like Asylia’s darkness was overpowering me, like I never had the chance to recover. It wasn’t until—”

  Draicia. Dear friends who truly loved me and risked their lives for me. Lucien.

  “—until I had the chance to leave that I realized that it was possible to live any other way.” If anything, Draicia was less civilized than Asylia. But in that wild city, without the Herald’s expectations, Grandmother’s influence, or the straitjacket of Asylian society, I’d been free to be myself. In that one regard, Demetrius had been right.

  Sebastian was silent for a moment, but then he jerked his chin toward something over his shoulder. “I hate myself for saying this, but maybe that means you need a different city.”

  When I followed his gaze, the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  “Passenger tickets, get them here! Draicia, fifty marks! Lerenia, one hundred marks! Safe passage, guaranteed!” A portly man waved to me from his ticket stand. “You look like a girl who isn’t afraid of adventure,” he said cheerfully. He thumped a fist on the table, swung his arm back, and gestured toward three grizzled-looking mages who stood behind him, their arms folded. “How’d you like a seat on the first private passenger caravan to Draicia? Safer than the Asylian trolley. My mover mages are the best cannon operators on any caravan. No Badlanders will stand a chance against them.”

  I took the flyer he shoved at me, my fingers trembling.

  “Comfortable ride, guaranteed,” he continued. “No stops. Warm seating. We’ll arrive in a day and a half.”

  Beside me, I felt Sebastian tense up. “Is it really safe?” He sounded skeptical.

  “This c
rew has been working for the royal government to protect export shipments between Asylia and Draicia for years,” the portly man said calmly. “And now they’re my business partners. No one wants to leave the city on foot, not after those nasty mages came here. But there’s no need to hike to Draicia now that the caravan mages are free to protect passengers instead of just exports.”

  He gestured to the flyer in my hand. “What do you say, miss? Ready to see the continent? There’s nothing so liberating as getting outside those city walls for the first time.”

  “Liberating, indeed,” I murmured, looking between the merchant and the three mages behind him. “I could use a bit of a change.”

  “What will your grandmother do if you leave?” Sebastian sounded a bit desperate.

  “She has you.” I glanced at him, surprised by the rightness of the words that had just slipped out. “You’re better for the Herald than I ever was.”

  A panicked look crossed Sebastian’s face. “Is it too late to take back my words? I’m an idiot. Let’s keep walking and forget we saw this stand.”

  “Too late,” I said, pulling a fold of marks from my pocket and slapping them into the vendor’s waiting hand. My tether to Asylia lengthened and broke away. I was off, whirling away like a scrap of paper on the winter wind, with just as little certainty but all the freedom. “It’s not your fault.” I patted his arm consolingly. “It’s been too late for a long time.”

  Chapter 47

  Draicia was colder and snowier than I’d remembered.

  It was also far livelier.

  Without a huge portion of the population under aurae’s spell, the city was bustling. Traffic was faster and more terrifying than it had been on my first visit, as though in throwing off the sedation of aurae, the Draicians had rediscovered their love for fast fomecoaches and harrowing speeds. The city was definitely awake.