Eventually, Eris stopped trying.
After all, things could be much worse.
Jemsin was a monster, but if not for him, she wouldn’t be alive. He’d kept her safe from the empress before, and would do it again. That counted for something.
Suddenly, the door clicked but didn’t open all the way.
Eris held her breath, listening, as two voices issued into the room. One belonged to the commandant; the other she didn’t recognize. Eris glanced out the window, to the starry sky above Firgaard. It was well past midnight.
Who would she be bringing back to her room?
A sweetheart?Eris wondered. Her stomach turned over at the thought.
But when the door opened wider and the commandant stepped inside, Safire stepped in alone.
The moment she did, her strong posture softened. Her shoulders folded in. And just like that, she wasn’t the commandant. Wasn’t the proud cousin to the king.
She was just a tired girl.
Through the lace edge of the curtain, Eris watched Safire light the lamps, then move through the room. She disarmed herself first—unbuckling the saber at her hip, then the beltholding her throwing knives. She set both of these down on a tabletop near an arching window, then slid off her boots and undressed, donning a pale blue tunic that fell almost to her knees. The last thing Safire did before getting into bed was slide a slender, decorative throwing knife out of the knot of hair at the back of her head. This she hid under her pillow before blowing out the lamp flame.
That was the knife Eris had come for.
The sheets rustled. The wood creaked. And then: silence bled through the room.
Eris remained still as a shadow while her sight adjusted to the darkness, waiting for the right time to strike. It wasn’t long before the commandant’s breathing changed: deepening and evening out.
As soon as Eris was certain Safire was asleep, she stepped out from behind the curtains.
This bedroom was far simpler than the king’s and queen’s rooms—which Eris had crept through simply to slake her curiosity. After the king and his sister, Safire was next in line for the throne. Eris expected lavish furnishings and fine silks. But Safire’s room was small, her bed even smaller—not big enough for even a bedfellow.
Eris cloaked herself in shadow as she slunk across the room, awash in the silvery-blue night. Her footsteps made no sound as she stepped up to the bedframe. She should have reached immediately for the knife beneath the pillow.It could have been quick and easy. Over in an instant. But as she stood over Safire’s sleeping form, Eris... hesitated.
The commandant looked so different asleep. Her black hair spilled like ink across the pillows. Her skin was much fairer than her two cousins’ and her pale brown fingers curled gently against her cheek. She looked not at all like the fearsome soldier who snapped and snarled and doled out orders. She seemed... young. Too young. Like a sapling that hadn’t quite taken root.
Eris stared, drinking in the sight of her.
It was only when the girl stirred that Eris remembered why she’d come. She set the scarp thistle down on the bedside table, and then—gently, slowly—slid her hand beneath the pillow.
Soon, her fingertips brushed the cool steel of the commandant’s favorite throwing knife. Eris knew it was Safire’s favorite, because she’d spent the past few weeks trailing her like a shadow.
When you watched someone as closely as Eris watched Safire, you couldn’t help but notice things.
Carefully, Eris pulled the knife out from beneath the pillow. She stood there for several heartbeats, running her fingers over the decorative hilt, smiling a little as she did.
The moment Eris turned to leave, however, something tightened around her ankle.
Eris looked down. It took several heartbeats before she could make out what it was.
A loop of slip-knotted rope. One made of twisted silken sheets that appeared to snake beneath the bed.
Shock made Eris go still. Had it been there all along? Before Safire even entered the room?
Had Safireanticipatedher coming here tonight?
“Who are you?” came that voice from behind Eris. The coldtip of a blade pressed into the back of her neck, digging into the skin.
Eris felt a tug on the silk rope and knew the other end was gripped firmly in the commandant’s hand.
