“I don’t understand,” I admit, pushing the words past the clamp of my teeth.
Cainon releases a deep sigh and wanders around the table, pausing by the hog, prying the pear from its maw. “Lyra!” he belts out, leaning against the stone, inspecting every side of the bright-green fruit.
Movement catches my eye, and I look up to see one of the palace servants step through a door on the far wall—a long lighting stick clutched in her white-knuckled fist. The woman is parchment pale, shoulders curled, her eyes shaded by the forward tip of her head. Her simple blue tunic sways around her slender legs as she shuffles toward the table.
I notice the tracks of sweat lining her temples. Dappling her forehead.
She’snervous.
A lump of dread rises in my throat, and I move forward a step.
Another.
Lyra stops a few long strides away from Cainon, head bowed. He continues to inspect his pear, pulling a small dagger from the inside of his boot. “Have you been listening to our conversation, Lyra?”
“N-no, Master. I w-wasn’t—”
He stabs his blade at her face, making her flinch. “Don’t lie to me,” he belts out, the words blasting off the walls.
Breath whooshes out of me as a whimper escapes her lips.
I steal another few steps, the pads of my fingers skimming the hilt of my dagger.
“Did you hear my promised admit to murdering the High Master of Ocruth?”
Silence.
“Yes or no, Lyra.”
She shoots me a nervous glance, swallows, then nods. “Y-yes, Master. I did.”
“Right. Thank you for your honesty.” She curtseys deep and begins to shuffle backward, but Cainon halts her with a sharp look. “Stay right there,” he says, carving off a slice of pear and biting into it, looking at me sideways. “Once word gets out that you killed Zali’s promised, her Masters and Mistresses will expect her to challenge you to a duel.”
This sinking feeling plunges through me as I recall Zali’s stern warning:We must keep Rhordyn’s death a secret until we’ve found somewhere else to pin the blame.
The words hold a different weight now that I’m sitting here, choking on the sharp tang of Lyra’s fear.
“To thedeath,” Cainon adds, plunging the last word through me like a spear.
My knees threaten to buckle.
“Zali’s land is mostly sand. Hard to carve out reliable bunkers. By blurring the line between their borders, Rhordyn was offering refuge to many who will otherwise perish in the surge of Vruk attacks. You’ve cheated them out of extra resources, extra land and revenue. Extrasafety.If Zali doesn’t challenge you for the right to claim Ocruth, she will be seen asweak,and it’ll only be a matter of time before she’s usurped.”
The blood drains from my face, gaze darting to Lyra who’s shriveling by the second.
Fuck.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out—my tongue pinned to its roof, heart pumping so hard and fast my head spins.
Never show your hand unless you know exactly what you’re up against.
Rhordyn’s words strike me like an axe swung from the past—another sound piece of advice I let ricochet off my stony regard. Too blinded by my own rage and the love-sick dance swirling inside me.
The realization sours my insides, making my cheeks tingle, mind scrambling as I weigh my options.
A cold sweat gathers across the back of my neck …
“You really are selfish,” I bite out, and his eyes soften.
