She stood in a rush, then swayed so steeply that Imogen jumpedup to right her. My stomach clenched at Agatha’s swift and total mortification. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers digging into Imogen’s forearm as the truth of my claim cut through her defensiveness.
The only sound came from the rat, squeaking and gnawing at the rusted bars of its cage. Imogen ran a comforting hand up and down Agatha’s arm, until finally she opened her eyes.
Agatha gave a weary shake of her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, you’ve done nothing but try to help,” Imogen said, squeezing her tight. A horn reverberated over the deck, followed by the whistles and calls of the ship preparing to weigh anchor.
Lachlan went to Agatha’s other side and drew her in close. “And Halla is truly out of the question?” he asked. “Can’t we force her?”
Imogen scowled. “Halla is untrustworthy. I can’t parse what she wants, but I know she has no desire to inflict any true harm on Eusia—or anything tied to her.”
Lachlan quirked a dark brow. “Not even you?”
Imogen shook her head in wary thoughtfulness. “I think she regards me with a mix of fear and veneration. She knows I keep Eusia alive, and despite herself and how she’s been wronged, she cannot shake her devotion. She sees me as blessed—and I suspect she resents that.”
“So Halla is out of the question.” I stepped forward. “I can say with certainty that Lachlan would be shit with spell work—too blunt.” Lachlan huffed his agreement. “That leaves you with one remaining option: me.”
Imogen went icily still.
The ship dipped and creaked as it headed into the open water. The cabin crackled with Imogen’s indignation. Lach and Agatha were taut, looking between the two of us until she gave Lach a tapon his arm. “I’m going to nap,” she said, quickly. Lachlan helped her toward the door. “I hope His Majesty has killed that rat by the time I wake up, Imogen.”
Imogen set an anxious hand to her stomach.
Even after the door shut, I held my tongue. The ship rolled, and the calls of the sailors and the captain beyond the stateroom walls filled the strained air. She stood at the foot of my bed, a hand wrapped around one of its posts to keep herself steady against the rocking. Though her gaze was unflinching, her lush mouth tightened with fear. I let my gaze move slowly from her sunlit tumble of hair, to the disorienting lines of her body in that gown, to the knife-sharp look in her eyes. Fucking Gods, I’d known it from the first time I’d seen her. She was unavoidable. Destined.
“You will loathe yourself for it, Theo,” Imogen finally said, quietly. “Perhaps you’ll loathe me too in the end.”
I grunted at the impossibility. “I would loathemyselfif I did nothing and let you pass me by.” For her and her alone would I let go of the safety line that I clung to and hope that I could tread the crashing waves.
It happened slowly, her acceptance of the circumstances. Her honey eyes dragged across my face, dread tightening their edges. But soon her shoulders loosened, her tension eased. She blew a harsh breath through pouting lips.
Something raced through me—anxiety or excitement—or some indecipherable melding of the two. “Good.” I jerked my head toward the settee. “Come sit on my lap, then, Mage,” I said through a half smile, “and teach me a spell.”
26
Imogen
The long table in the stateroom was set with a fine feast. Glazed ham, and cod, and rabbit that had been gathered when we’d docked in Della. The excellent food, however, did very little to raise the spirits of those gathered around for the meal.
Markis sipped from his wineglass, then sucked on his teeth. “Do we suppose this could have been a speedy meeting, instead of a lingering meal, Your Majesty?”
Theodore set his own wine goblet down slowly, his gaze on the full plate before him. “No.”
He looked worse for wear—unshaven, with dark smudges beneath his eyes and sallow skin. For three nights he’d attempted the killing spell, and every night he’d failed. Every time, the rat would remain squeaking in its cage, and Theodore would double over with sick, only to sleep fitfully the entire next day.
But true to his character, the damned man would not relent. He refused to believe me when I insisted that magic did not suit him, and we’d been enraged with one another since.
My gaze darted away from a sullen Theodore, who sat across from me at the far end, to Halla, who sat beside him. She sparkledin a beaded lilac gown and picked at a piece of buttered bread. Beside her sat Aleka, who ate quietly, barely lifting her head unless addressed.
I glanced next to Agatha, who, praise the bleeding Gods, was eating. Lachlan sat close beside her. They spoke sweetly, each leaning toward the other’s ear to whisper.
I found myself unable to look away from them. The way their hands would purposefully graze, the way their faces seemed to be ready to break into a smile at any moment, the mindless, unnecessary touches they would bestow upon each other. Despite the unease in the stateroom, I smiled to see them happy after so many years apart.
Theodore cleared his throat. “We’ll be arriving in Obelia’s main port soon. It’s important we make our arrangements now, as we’ll need some time to prepare.”
“I’ll begin, if Your Majesty doesn’t mind,” Halla said, her lilting voice so soft, I hardly heard her.
Theodore answered with a distracted nod. His attention was fixed on the opposite end of the table—on me.
