Dax winced as he pushed himself up. Roa wrapped her arm around his waist, helping him. She guided him to the bed, where he sat down heavily on the edge.
“I’ll run a bath...”
He grabbed her wrist to stop her. “There are servants to do that.”
“I want to.”
He stared up at her in silence. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Being... kind to me.”
Roa swallowed, looking away.Because you’re hurt, and I’m the reason.
But no, that wasn’t it.
“Because I’m grateful,” she said, holding his gaze. “For what you did in the Assembly today.”
But this too was partially a lie.
The truth—the whole truth—lay somewhere far deeper. Somewhere Roa was afraid to look.
Twenty-Six
After running a bath and fetching the physician, Roa went to make sure Celeste was all right. She found her guard in perfect form, along with Lirabel in the dungeon. The soldats who’d lied to Roa, who’d attacked her and the king, were locked in cells, being questioned by Safire. It was Lirabel who informed her that an emergency meeting had been called for the next day.
That night, Roa couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking of Dax stepping in front of the knife. Putting himself in harm’s way to protecther.
It was so at odds with the Dax she thought she knew.
Roa pushed off the covers and slid from the bed. Her thoughts were so tangled, she didn’t notice how cold the tiles were beneath her bare feet.
In the grove earlier, Dax’s grip on that saber had been all wrong. And mere months ago, when he came to the scrublands asking for help, Theo beat him easily in a fight.
She’d gotten used to thinking of him as a clumsy, useless fool.
But Dax was the son of the king. He’d been learning how to wield a blade for as long as Roa had. He might be clumsy. He might be inept. But something like proper grip—after years of lessons—should be second nature.
Dax had spied on his own council. He’d somehow figured out Rebekah was plotting against him and, instead of accusing her without proof, he chose to provoke her. To wait for her to make a mistake.
These were not the acts of a clumsy, useless fool. They were the acts of a careful thinker. A tactician.
Roa stepped out onto her balcony. The stars glittered coldly above her. The night pressed in around her as a thought formed in her mind.
What if Dax wasn’t as useless with a blade as everyone thought?
What if he was just pretending to be?
She needed to know for sure. Because when Rebekah’s forces flooded the palace, there could be no surprises. Not while she held Essie captive. More importantly, when Roa traded Dax’s soul for Essie’s on the Relinquishing, there could be nothing standing in her way.
Roa headed for her husband’s rooms, needing to find out if Dax was as terrible a swordsman as she’d always believed, or if he was concealing yet another truth from her.
A hundred heartbeats later, Dax’s guards opened his bedroom doors for the queen, shooting each other suggestive looks. Roa ignored them, closing the doors behind her.
The light of her lantern flooded the room, coming to stop on a canopied bed where she could see Dax’s dark curls against the cotton pillows.
She set down the lamp and drew Essie’s knife, sheathed at her calf. Taking a deep breath, she moved for the bed, her bare feet padding softly against the marble floor.
