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It wouldn’t be Alekur. If he’d planned to kill her, he needn’t have waited for nightfall. And her attendants would have strode briskly into the room, bustling efficiently toward whatever duty brought them.
Soft footfalls on the stone reached her ears. No, it wasn’t any of them. But it was definitely someone.
The inner door creaked open, but just a little. She couldn’t see the door because of how low she was crouched; she could only hear it. But it sounded like it’d only opened a crack. Faint candlelight cut the stone floor at the foot of the bed in a sharp, thin line; whoever it was carried a single candle.
When a moment passed, and then another, she uncurled just enough to peer over the edge of the bed. Might as well face down the inevitable.
The sliver of the open doorway revealed blond hair and soft, familiar angles. Her gut twisted. This. By the gods. This was Alekur’s plan.
And she’d thought her death would have been enough for her brother. But no.
“Iseris?” the familiar voice whispered. There was no glint of humor in it. It was rough with sorrow and despair.
“You,” she whispered.
No point in hiding now. She came to her knees, still tethered to the bedpost.
“Yes. Me.” Frowning, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. They’d never been alone like this, save perhaps those few moments eavesdropping on her parents. The door’s quiet thud seemed even more ominous than a slam would have been.
He slid the candleholder onto her dresser and squinted into the darkness.
She would not die with a shout, a crash, a fight. No. It would be quiet—a gasp in the darkness, a spark extinguished in a rainstorm. She should have sighed, succumbed to this end.
But her jaw hardened instead. Something about this final cruelty was more than she could bear.
“I knew someone would come,” she said. “But I didn’t think it’d be you.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. In fact, she thought he might stand there forever. Stepping away from the candle, his eyes found hers. Something about his pained gaze eased the ache in her chest. Slightly.
He wasn’t happy. At least there was that.
“Surprises for both of us then,” he muttered. A hint of a smile caught in the corner of his mouth. “How delightful.”
She snorted, almost a laugh. They had shared so many laughs together, often at the expense of her cruel brother. But who was laughing now? The cruel one had won.
She forced herself to take a deep breath. This was Javarin. This was a Devoted Knight. This was a friend, and yet also an enemy.
This was a man who was more than a friend, not that she’d ever utter such nonsense to anyone. She’d always known their fates were star-crossed, likely to end in pain. She just hadn’t ever thought it would come to pass like this.
He started forward, then slowed. He cocked his head, listening, and seemed to think for a moment, then walked the rest of the way to her and knelt in front of her. He said nothing, but his eyes were tired, worried, his face strained. He still wore his chain mail, the same as all the knights, the same as she always saw him. His dagger hung from his belt.
His gaze followed hers to the weapon.
“Make it quick?” she said softly.
His jaw clenched at those words, and she could see the pain, the resistance in him. She felt it so strongly that she wanted to ease it, as ridiculous as that was.
His eyes seemed distant, almost as though he were seeing something else, some other world, or so deep in his thoughts that he barely saw her, the room around her, any of it. This probably wouldn’t have been easy for him even if they were strangers. This wasn’t a glorious battle.
It was assassination, if you dressed it up. Murder, otherwise. Execution?
His gaze sharpened again. She thought he might reach for his blade, but instead, he shifted around to her side. Behind her, she felt a tug on the rope.
He was untying it.
“Strictly speaking, that’s unnecessary, you know.” She leaned back toward the bed, though, to make the job easier by bringing her wrists closer.
To her surprise, he glared. Not at her, but definitely in response to her comment. But he didn’t look away from his work, just kept working the knots. Alekur’s knots were not easily thwarted, even by deft fingers. Scowling now, he shifted fully behind her, focused on her bindings. She heard him mutter a curse, then the soft slide of metal out of its sheath. He’d drawn his dagger.
