by Amy Tintera
He ran slowly with her on his back, but his breathing was steady. She buried her face in his neck and refused to look back at the prison.
“Do you want me to take her for a while?” Galo asked as they turned a corner onto a tree-lined road.
Aren shook his head. “I’m fine.” They jogged in silence for several minutes, Galo often running backward as he checked to see if they were being followed. In the distance, Iria heard shouts, but no one appeared as they turned another corner.
Aren slowed to a walk after a few more minutes, turning to peer behind him.
“I haven’t seen anyone,” Galo said.
Aren nodded, leaning down to let Iria slide off. They stood in front of a small, unfamiliar house. The front door opened a crack, then a little more. A familiar face stuck her head out. Bethania.
Tears sprang to Iria’s eyes as she limped forward. Bethania eased the door wider and opened her arms, enveloping Iria in a hug as soon as she stepped over the threshold.
Iria couldn’t stop the tears now that they’d started, and her shoulders shook as Bethania held her tighter.
“I can’t believe they actually did it,” Bethania murmured, her tone almost amused.
Iria smiled through her tears. “They had a bit of help from you?”
“Some. But I let those crazy boys go in on their own.”
Iria laughed as she pulled away. Her bruised eye stung as she wiped her tears away. “That was probably smart.”
Bethania stepped back, waving Aren and Galo in. “Come on. Quickly.”
Iria stepped farther into the house. The front two rooms were completely empty, a few pieces of trash scattered on the wooden floors, like someone had just moved out.
“I knew the house was vacant,” Bethania said, following her gaze. “We have some clothes for you, and food. We don’t think it’s smart to stay long in this area, because they’ll probably go house to house when they can’t find you on the road.”
“We’re going to wait until they sweep the roads in this area, then we’ll go back out,” Aren said. “Bethania got us some horses.”
“I stole them,” Bethania admitted.
“You always were stealthy,” Iria said. She slid down the wall and hit the ground heavily.
“Why are you limping?” Bethania asked.
“I was injured,” Iria said, closing her eyes briefly. It seemed easier to not look at any of them. All of them had matching worried expressions on their faces. Even Galo, a man she’d barely spoken to, seemed alarmed.
“How?” Aren asked.
“A knife. They had to take off part of my foot.”
“Who?” Aren asked sharply. “One of the guards?”
Iria nodded wordlessly.
“Does it hurt?” Bethania asked. “I can maybe find bandages, if you need.”
She started to say no, but the bandages hadn’t been changed today and the last thing she needed was an infection.
“We should probably change them,” she admitted.
“I have some fresh clothes for you too,” Bethania said. She ushered Galo and Aren out of the room and sat in front of Iria with new bandages.
Iria leaned her head back against the wall. “Thank you. For asking them to leave. I need a moment.”
“I could tell.” One side of Bethania’s mouth lifted as she unwrapped the old bandages on Iria’s foot. “I can also tell you’re happy to see Aren.”
“Yes, well.”
“It’s complicated?”
Iria blew her hair out of her face. “Yes.”
“I like him. He’s crazier than you are, which is saying something.”
Iria laughed, her first genuine laugh in weeks. Bethania had thought she was insane to volunteer for the mission to Lera to help Em, and she hadn’t been shy about expressing that feeling.
Of course, this whole situation proved her right. Iria decided not to mention that.
“They really took off a substantial portion of your foot,” Bethania said as she bandaged it. “Was it that bad of an injury?”
“I don’t know, I passed out. It was a very large knife, though they might have decided to amputate instead of treating just to spite me.”
“Bastards,” Bethania muttered. She finished and sat back, glancing over her shoulder. Aren and Galo were still out of sight, and Iria could hear mumbled conversation from another part of the house. “They’re taking you back to Lera. Is that what you want?”
“Do I have any other choice?”
“I’m sure we could come up with something.”
“Lera is fine. Is Aren . . .” She trailed off, her eyes darting to the door. “What part of Lera? Is he dropping me somewhere?”
“Let’s change your clothes and you can ask him yourself.” She tossed Iria brown pants and a white shirt. Iria slowly got to her feet and changed, tossing her prison clothes aside. The new clothes were softer against her skin, and she gratefully shrugged into a warm coat. It wasn’t that cold, but she was shivering nonetheless.
Bethania opened the door and called for Aren and Galo as Iria plopped down on the floor again.
“Iria was asking where you’re going,” Bethania said.
Aren met Iria’s gaze. “Em’s at the castle with a bunch of other Ruined. We’re going there, if that’s all right with you.”
“And Olivia?”
“She’s on her own. I’m staying with you in the Lera castle. I won’t leave you.”
She felt more relieved than she wanted to admit. She didn’t want to go to Lera by herself, especially not now.
Aren reached into a bag and pulled out a canteen and something wrapped in a cloth. He sat down in front of her, crossing his legs. A piece of the cloth flopped over, revealing a sandwich.
Her fingers brushed his as she took the sandwich. He looked at her as if he had a million things he wanted to say, but he just lowered his eyes. Maybe it was because Bethania and Galo were there, or maybe he just felt too awkward. She’d thought he was going to kiss her that night in the woods, when he’d told her she’d have to go to Royal City without him, and the uncomfortable buzz of that night still lingered between them.
“Thanks, Aren,” she said quietly. She was expressing gratitude for more than the sandwich he’d just handed her, and he smiled like he understood.
“You’re welcome.”
THIRTY-THREE
CAS RETURNED TO the castle just before sunrise, and found Em half asleep in his bed. She jerked awake as he climbed in, and he quietly relayed his conversation with August. She didn’t say much as he told her about August’s plan to betray the Ruined; she just wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, like she’d never expected a different answer from Cas.
She was gone when he woke up, the sun now high in the sky, and he dressed and headed to his office. He’d recounted the story for Violet and Franco last night, but he was asked to explain it again to General Amaro, which led to a tense discussion on possible Olso plans of attack.
Cas slipped away, leaving a message with a guard to have Em come and find him when she was done working with Weakling today. He retreated to the tallest point of the castle—an attic filled with dusty memories of his grandparents and ancestors he’d never known. There was a loft area above the storage with a tiny round window that looked out all the way to the ocean, and he’d made the space his own years ago. A blanket and a few pillows were scattered on the floor, books stacked in the corners. Only a few guards had known about the spot, before, and he was never disturbed when he came here.
Now, he heard a guard cough on the other side of the door. Two had followed him up here.
He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, pretending for a moment that he was back in the world he’d known a few months ago—when he and Em had just started to get along and his parents were still alive and his biggest worry was his father’s approval.
He felt a stab of guilt as he opened his eyes. It was easy for him to think fondly of the way things used to be, when Ler
a was great, but it meant ignoring the fact that it wasn’t great for Em, or the Ruined. Reminiscing about those times was selfish and ignored the pain they’d caused.
Behind him, the door creaked open. It really wasn’t a great hiding spot.
“Cas.”
He turned at the sound of Em’s voice and crawled to the edge of the loft to look down. She stood next to the ladder below him and turned in a circle, surveying the boxes and old furniture around her.
“Is this it? The hidden room?” she asked.
“What?”
“When I was looking for you once, when I lived here before, you said you were in a hidden room. Is this it?”
“Yes.” He pointed to the ladder. “Come up.”
She climbed the ladder and ducked her head as she stepped into the loft space. He scooted back, leaning his head against the wall and stretching his legs out in front of him. She sat down across from him, glancing briefly out the window.
“I think we should talk about Franco’s question,” he said, his heart pounding in his chest. “About marriage.”
“Yes.” She rubbed her hands on her pants. “Can I go first?”
“Please.”
“Do you think the Lerans will even let—?” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “Sorry. That’s the wrong place to start.”
“The wrong place?”
“Everyone else’s opinions. That’s the wrong place to start this conversation.” She met his gaze, a look crossing her face he’d never seen before. She was nervous, maybe. Her cheeks turned pink.
“I love you,” she said.
He blinked. His heart hammered in his chest, still expecting the worst. “What?”
“I love you,” she said again, like he actually hadn’t heard. “Of course I want to marry you. Again.”
A smile spread across his face and she laughed, still blushing.
“Is there a ‘but’?” he asked.
“No. I want to marry you. I don’t think the Ruined will object, but frankly, I don’t care if they do.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You don’t?”
“No. I’ve sacrificed plenty for them. I don’t need to give you up too.” Her smile faded a bit, the way it did when she was about to mention her sister. “I told Olivia I would, but it was a lie. I never would have given you up, Cas.”
He was trying not to grin, but he was so happy he thought he might burst out of his skin. “I want to marry you, too,” he said, even though she already knew.
“And do you think the Lerans will allow it?”
“I don’t care.”
“I’ll be an unpopular queen. I’m used to people looking down on me, hating me. Some Lerans will never accept me, and they’ll hate you, too. Are you all right with that?”
“Yes.” He said it with absolute confidence.
“When we start negotiations we’ll need to make it clear that you get to choose who you marry, even if we strip the monarchy of some of its power. We can’t give anyone approval or veto power over your marriage. For your sake and for the sake of your”—her lips twitched up—“our—children.”
He leaned forward, reaching for her. She slipped her hand into his and let him tug her closer, scooting across the floor and settling down in his lap with one knee on either side of his thighs. He tilted his head up and kissed her briefly.
“They would be fools to say no,” she said. She looped her arms around his neck. “Our children will be Ruined. Every other kingdom will be terrified of Leran royalty, even if we have a limited role in government. August made that clear last night. Tell them that.”
He laughed as she leaned down to kiss him again. “They’ll like that, actually.”
“I know they will.”
He pressed his lips to hers again, tightening the arm around her waist. All of this was assuming that Olivia didn’t kill them all, or August didn’t launch a successful attack and take the country from Cas again. He knew they weren’t anywhere close to out of danger yet, but he let himself pretend for a moment, as he kissed Em.
She pulled back just a little and rested her forehead against his. Her fingers were in his hair, gently gripping the too-long strands. He was overdue for a haircut, but he might leave it long if she was going to grab it like that.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That I didn’t tell you I loved you before, that I didn’t believe we could do this the way you did. It’s not that I didn’t love you, I was just scared.”
“I know,” he said, even though he was practically still vibrating with relief from her confession. She didn’t need to know that a tiny part of him hadn’t been sure that she loved him the way he loved her.
She kissed him like he’d been totally insane to doubt her. Her fingers were still in his hair and his hands found their way to her thighs. If he and Em had been somewhere more private, he probably would have started tearing her clothes off. He would have pushed her back on the pillows and finished what they started weeks ago in Vallos.
But he heard the murmured voices of the guards outside and pulled back, letting his lips linger on hers for a moment longer.
“Have dinner with me tonight?” he asked. “The staff has reluctantly agreed to let me make my own meals in the small kitchen off the private dining room.”
“You’re going to cook the dinner?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Don’t look so skeptical. I’ve gotten pretty good.”
Her smile suggested she knew what he had in mind for after dinner. “I’d love to.”
THIRTY-FOUR
AFTER THE WARRIORS did a sweep of the street, Aren ushered everyone out of the house. He could still feel the humans in the prison from the house, and he was eager to get as far away as possible.
He carried Iria on his back as they made their way down the street. Galo took over when Aren started to get tired, and he could tell Iria was frustrated with having to be carried—she mentioned several times that she could walk, but her pain was apparent every time her feet hit the ground.
Aren was curious about the full extent of her injury, but she wasn’t forthcoming with details and he didn’t want to pry. At least she could walk, if she had to. They could worry about the details later.
Warriors spread out through the streets of the city, and Galo suggested they stay not far behind one group as they made their way out. It was easy to stay away from any humans as they ventured farther out of town, since Aren could easily feel them coming.
Bethania had tied up the two stolen horses in trees near the tracks that led back to the border. Iria slid off Galo’s back as they approached them.
“I have to leave you here,” Bethania said. “I should get home before someone shows up at my door with questions.”
Iria walked to Bethania and pulled her into a hug.
“You could come with us?” Iria said it as a question, her face in Bethania’s shoulder, and Aren could barely hear the words.
“I know. They offered.” Bethania pressed a kiss to Iria’s cheek and pulled away. “But this is still my home.”
Iria swept a hand across her eyes, but her body was angled away from Aren, so he couldn’t see her tears. He had the same feeling he’d had at the house—that Iria was more upset than she was letting on, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Bethania said good-bye to Galo, then smiled at him. “It was nice to meet you, Aren. You better get her to Lera safely.”
“I will.”
Bethania hugged Iria again, briefly, then quickly turned away. She didn’t look back as she jogged down the road.
Aren let Iria watch for a moment, then quietly said, “Ride with me?”
Iria nodded, swallowing hard as she turned around. He mounted the horse first, then extended his hand to her. Galo helped lift Iria onto the horse, and she settled in behind Aren.
“I’m really tired,” she said softly. “I might fall asleep.”
“Go ahead. I’ll wake you up if there’s a problem.”
“You’re headed to the south section of the border, right? Bethania told you about the abandoned posts?”
“She told us.”
Her arms slid around his waist, and he felt her cheek against his shoulder a moment later. “Wake me up if you need help navigating.”
He laid his hands on top of hers for a moment. “I will.”
Bethania was right—a portion of the Olso border to the south was unguarded, the towers abandoned. Iria was still asleep as they crossed, and Aren sat up straight, alert and waiting for trouble.
It never came, and they easily crossed into the unguarded Lera. Aren found himself breathing a sigh of relief. When had Lera become his safe place?
They rode for a few hours, putting some distance between them and the border. They stopped not long after sunrise, and Galo led the horses to a stream while Iria sank down against a tree. Aren sat across from her and held out her canteen.
“Thanks.” She tipped her head back as she drank.
They sat in silence for several long moments. Galo didn’t come back, and Aren thought he was probably making himself scarce so they could talk. Aren wasn’t sure where to begin.
“The Ruined are really at the Lera castle?” Iria finally asked.
“That’s where they were headed when we left,” he said.
She jerked her head in the direction Galo had disappeared. “How’d you convince him to come?”
“I didn’t. He offered. We . . . became friends?” The statement felt strange, and came out as a question. But the word friend seemed the only appropriate way to describe Galo.
Iria laughed softly. “Huh.”
“And I think he feels guilty about everything.” He didn’t expand on what everything was, but he knew she understood.
Silence stretched out between them again, and he took in a deep breath, trying to find the right words.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For abandoning you. For not saving you when the warriors took you.”
“You tried,” she said to the ground.
“If it hadn’t been for Olivia, I would have been at full strength and those warriors wouldn’t have stood a chance against me. I’m sorry I was too scared to separate myself from her.”
