He would never willingly let me leave with Queen Azari’s crown. I knew that. But as long as I found the crown, I could make an escape plan.
“Yes, I’ll work for you.” I remembered Mishah being dragged from the prison, her screams echoing through the halls. “But only if you spare the life of the kitchen girl—Ramishah. She goes back to her job and no harm comes to her.”
“You are in no position to be bargaining with me, human.” The Viceroy watched me with that same oily amused me, as if I were a plaything he was enjoying manipulating. “But I’ll grant you this. The kitchen girl goes free.”
His expression didn’t change, as if he always knew what my answer was going to be.
I suppose we both did—it wasn’t as if I had a choice.
Movement from over his shoulder drew my eyes to the silver-haired peri. His impenetrable face was dark, angry, and his eyes brewed like a storm. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin, assessing me. It was the same look he’d given me in the forest, only this time I felt his valuation more keenly. Maybe it was because I was in a prison cell and he my jailer.
He walked to the door of my cell, waving his hand at the intricate locks, muttering words under his breath I tried to catch. The metal mechanisms clicked furiously until the door swung open. He had no way of knowing I had the power to do that too, even though it looked very different. But they didn’t know all the details about my magic, and I wanted to keep it that way.
“Come,” the silver-haired peri said, his voice tight.
I followed the Viceroy up the stairs, out of the dungeons and into the sunlight streaming down from palace windows. I lifted my head toward its warmth, the chill of the prisons seeping from my bones.
The silver-haired fae followed behind, and I felt his presence like a monster lurking behind me, the halmasti waiting to feast on my flesh.
The Viceroy peeled away from us without looking back, and I moved to follow. A firm hand on my shoulder stopped me.
“This way.”
His breath was warm on my neck, and I jumped at how close he was. I turned in the direction he pointed and trudged forward, feeling entirely out of my depth.
I’d killed a war general by stabbing him in the neck.
I’d stared down a fae Viceroy and spat in his face.
I’d struck a bargain with him and now walked through the halls of a palace with a towering silver-haired fae who looked as though he wanted to drown me in the River.
It had been a long day.
Eventually he led me to a large bedroom, better than the one I’d had as a servant, and stayed at the threshold as I walked through.
I didn’t need to turn around to know he was still there, watching me. But I did.
We stood staring at each other in silence. I knew the look he gave me—he was trying to figure out a puzzle he couldn’t yet understand. That look was mine every time I helped the Citadel discover a new fae vault, every time I researched a new relic or dissected the songs in my mother’s journal.
It was a calculation of mastery—he was assessing how long it would take to crack me, to figure me out, to know who I was and what I wanted.
Never, I wanted to say aloud to him.You will never know me.
What had the Viceroy called him again?
His hunting dog.
Before he closed the door to my room, that low voice slithered through me once more.
“If you ever try to escape, I will find you.”
Chapter 23
I got the cutting of hair you sent, and the jasmine petals. The scent flooded out as soon as I opened your letter and for a moment I imagined I could reach out and touch you. I closed my eyes and I could see your face.
But when I opened them, all I saw was blood.
The only thought that gets me through this fighting is knowing you and Yaseema are safe and healthy. But how long until it’s your blood in front of me?
