Their retreat from Aliza’s chambers is as mundane as their infiltration. It’s strange. Fleeing the palace seems like an activity better suited for darker hours, not midmorning. But Imrik and Aliza are holding court, and to all appearances, there’s nothing amiss about the four people walking through the halls. Kazia wears his ordinary scowl, and Lucien wears his collar and earring. Whisper tags along dressed as one of Kazia’s servants, and Salarin takes her normal place as guard.
They’ll make their way back to Kazia’s chambers, where Kazia will change clothes and cover his hair. Then he and Lucien will part ways. Lucien will go with Salarin to the throne room, as if under guard, and Kazia will leave the palace with Whisper and Hyda.
Kazia’s still surrounded by house tapestries and gargoyles, but he feels lighter already. Like his veins run clearer without threat of his mother’s magic.
He’s free. He’s almost free. And the rest of this will be dangerous too, but when he looks at Lucien, he believes they can do it. Mother and Father will never hurt him again.
Until familiar nausea stops him in his tracks. Kazia stumbles, vision blurring with horror.
“What’s wrong?” Lucien asks, immediately at his side. “Kazia?”
Kazia shakes his head. He can’t speak. His throat is so tight, he thinks it’s blood magic silencing him at first. But no. That’s just his own panic choking him.
“Kazia, talk to me,” Lucien urges.
“It didn’t work,” Kazia manages, shuddering. “It didn’t fucking work. Why didn’t it fucking work?”
Lucien’s eyes widen. “Did Aliza call you?”
Kazia stumbles out of Lucien’s grasp. “I have to go. I always have to go.”
He can’t escape.
Lucien catches him by the elbow. Whether to keep him from running or from falling, Kazia isn’t sure. Maybe they’re the same thing.
“What’s going on?” Salarin asks, monitoring their surroundings.
“Could the phylactery have been a fake?” Lucien asks.
Whisper draws closer. “Or a spare. I always wondered why Barnaby never kept spares.”
Kazia doesn’t care about their hypotheses. Spares or fakes, Kazia doesn’t fucking care. All that matters is the curse still hooked into his blood. Freedom was just something nice to dream about.
Nothing real.
The others are still talking, as if it means anything. “Let’s stick to the plan,” Lucien says, low and urgent. “Salarin, get me to the throne room. However it turns out, they’ll be too busy fighting me to call for Kazia. Meanwhile, Whisper gets Kazia as far away as he fucking can.”
“Distance doesn’t matter,” Whisper says. “That’s the point of the phylactery. The mage can control the thrall from hundreds of miles away.”
“I have to obey,” Kazia says, and everyone’s attention whips around to him. He struggles for calm. This is the same as always. He should be able to handle this, as long as he doesn’t look into Lucien’s eyes. “I’ll go to Mother. Lucien and Whisper, burn everything in Mother’s chambers, so she doesn’t know I brokein.” Kazia swallows hard and forces the next words out. “Then both of you, go back to Silaise.”
“The fuck I’m going anywhere without you.” Lucien takes Kazia by both shoulders, forcing the most brutally tender eye contact. “You’re panicking, Kazia. You’re not thinking clearly, or you’d know that’s not a fucking option.”
Kazia touches Lucien’s arms. Then the skin of his neck, right above the collar. “I’m trapped here forever, but you don’t have to be.”
“I’m not trapped.” Lucien covers Kazia’s hand. “What I feel for you isn’t a trap.”
Kazia shudders. “You’re wrong, but I want to believe you anyway.”
“Good enough for me, brat.” Lucien turns to the others. “I’m going with Kazia.”
“I’ll update Hyda,” Whisper says. “Can you tell Marek through Tezurit?”
“She’s already listening.” Lucien rubs Kazia’s shoulders before letting go. “Now, Kazia, do they always call you to the same place? Great. I need you to tell me the layout as we walk.”
Kazia is both grateful and angry that Lucien always knows how to adjust his mood. Through his despair, he tries to focus on the quiet descriptions.
He’s walked this path too many times for just this purpose. Somehow, this is the worst yet. Lucien knows he’ll be hurt. Salarin knows he’ll be used. Their expectations compound Kazia’s own, and he can’t carry the weight.
