Page 50 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

She’d meant Heike.

It made a terrible kind of sense. Heike had always been transparent about protecting her owninterests—andthe more Lorelei dwelled on it, the more her behavior made sense. She’d been trying to sabotage them from the beginning. They’d taken a detour that nearly killed them, then were stranded in that godforsaken village, all because they’d listened to her. She had been the first to bring up Lorelei’s ability tochannelaether—almostas though she’d wanted to turn the others against her.

The only thing Lorelei needed to make certain of was her motive.

The thick layer of pine litter muffled the sound of Lorelei’s footsteps as she approached. Heike sat clutching her side, her face glistening with sweat and flushed with exertion. Her waterskin lay empty beside her, and her backpack was slumped beneath a tree a few meters back. When she noticed Lorelei, she startled. For just a moment, her eyes shone with alarm. Then, she arranged her features into a sneer and crossed her legs primly, as though she lounged on a throne of her own making.

The distant sounds of burbling water and birdsong filled the silence between them. A narrow stream streaked through the woods just beside them, its surface shining brilliant white beneath the sun. Through rasping breaths, Heike said, “Come to mock me, have you?”

“I’ve come to make sure you’re alive.” Lorelei offered her waterskin to Heike, but Heike stared at it as though it were a dead rat Lorelei had dropped at her feet. Lorelei shrugged and took a swig. “Suit yourself.”

Heike’s eyes flashed warily. “What do you really want?”

Heike did not like her or trust her; that much was abundantly clear. It suited Lorelei fine. She much preferred a direct approach. Now, how best to get her talking?

“I’ve found myself curious as to why you came on this expedition.” Lorelei examined the mud-stained hem of Heike’s finely woven walking skirt, then the fatgemstone—oneshe hadn’t grown bored of,evidently—glisteringon her thumb. “You rarely went on your own researchtrips—andthe ones you did undertake, you relied on assistants for data collection. Why put yourself through this?”

Heike lifted one elegant shoulder. “Can’t a girl do an old friend a favor?”

Evasive, Lorelei noted. Perhaps she’d respond better to provocation. “I find it hard to believe you’d do something without expecting anything in return.”

“Ouch, Lori.” She touched a hand to her heart. “That hurts my feelings. I do have them, you know.”

“I do know. I sympathize with them, as a matter of fact.”

Heike made a derisive noise. “Oh, do you?”

“Or perhaps I’ve misread you,” Lorelei said, “and you’re as selfish and sad as you seem, harboring a lifetime of resentment because of a little wound to your pride. Did von Wolff’s rejection sting that badly?”

“Excuse me?” Heike bristled, rising to her feet. “I don’t know where you heard that or what game you’re playing, you snake, but you don’t know the first thing about my situation. You don’t get to judge me.”

At last, she’d struck a nerve.

She has always wanted to leavehome—bywhatever means possible, Ludwig had told her.Sylvia knew that. We all did.

Lorelei retrieved Heike’s backpack from the ground, then held it out to her by the strap. “That’s what I thought. She abandoned you.”

Heike watched her apprehensively, her shoulders coiling tight with tension. Lorelei could practically see the gears whirring in Heike’s mind as the cornered-prey gleam in her eyes dulled to calculating certainty. Scheming the best way to twist Lorelei’s sympathies in her favor, no doubt.

Good, Lorelei thought. Better for Heike to believe that she could be manipulated.

“If you must know, Iamhere because Wilhelm doesn’t trust anyone but us.” Heike snatched the backpack from her and reluctantly slung it over her shoulders. “However, I have been sitting on a marriage proposal from the prince of Gansland for many years. He expects an answer when I return.”

The prince of Gansland, from what Lorelei understood, was twice Heike’sage—anda widower twice over, at that. After rumors began swirling about what exactly had happened to his young, pretty wives, some had taken to calling him the Prince of Black Doves. A reference, of course, to one of Brunnestaad’s crueler tales.

Back in the days when wishes still held power, a peasant girl married a rich and handsome man. As a wedding gift, her mother gave her three messenger doves: a red one to send word she was happy, a white one for when she was ill, and a black one if she ever ran afoul of her husband.Her husband gave her a ring ofkeys—andfree rein of all the rooms in his home, save one. Naturally, when he left on a hunting trip, the intrepid maiden opened the forbiddendoor—andfound eight dead women hanging from his rafters.

Side by side, they began to hike again. Dead leaves crunched underfoot with every step, and overhead, the canopy swayed in the wind. Jagged shadows stirred to life around them.

“Surely, you can decline,” said Lorelei.

“I was forbidden from turning him down unless I had a more attractive offer in hand. Mother dearest wouldn’t dream of offending him. You know how thorny the relationship between Sorvig and Gansland can be.”

Over the centuries, Sorvig had won its independence from Gansland time and time again. Sorvig culture owed a great deal to Gansland: its seafaring, its appreciation for the arts, its cuisine of bread and things atop bread alone. If they wanted to seize Sorvig again, they would have to go to war with Brunnestaad. “Why should that matter?”

“Because my mother must always have an escape route. Besides, many believe Sorvig was better off under Ganish rule,” Heike said flatly. “If Wilhelm cannot maintain control of the kingdom, we can run into their arms again. As for me, I am to want nothing. If this pleases her, who am I to disobey?”

Despite herself, Lorelei almost felt a pang of disgust on her behalf.