Page 58 of Bride of Ash & Dust

It takes me a moment to realize the king is talking about me. Anger flares in my chest; I smother it beneath another smile as I cross my arms over my waist. The silk-lined jacket is smooth against my skin.

“How may I be of service?” I ask.

The man in white turns back to the king.

“It’s a shame we didn’t get him earlier,” the man says. “Such potential! The things we could have done.”

Malrik snorts as the man in white shakes his head. Fear pricks the back of my neck. I feel like the air in the room is draining away, like it’s filling with invisible smoke.

“So, you can use him?” Malrik asks.

“Yes, of course,” the man in white replies, with a little jerk of his chin. “He’ll be quite useful, I should think.”

My chest feels tight. This explains the new clothes. Malrik is sending me off with this man, and whatever the reason, it’s probably going to involve blood. I dip my chin, then turn to Malrik. The king is watching me with a strange look in his eyes. For a moment, none of us speaks.

“Damn shame,” Malrik finally says.

“All power has a price,” the man in white replies, which is not especially comforting.

Malrik sighs, then turns toward the door.

“Your Highness?” I ask.

Malrik turns back to me. He looks almost surprised to find I’m still in the room.

“Am I traveling with this man?” I ask, tilting my head toward the man in white. “And do you have any requests?”

Malrik frowns, then laughs.

“No,” he snorts. “No, you’re not traveling with Fyrris. I have something much better planned for you.”

He claps, and the door opens. Mortimyr stands in the hallway, looking like he has a stick shoved up his ass, as usual. Malrik hesitates on the threshold, then glances back at me with that same strange expression. It only lasts a heartbeat, there and then gone, but something about it makes me feel cold.

It’s too similar to the look another king once gave me, at the start of another journey.

Chapter 32

Lilias

CHAMBER POTS

Iwake in the dark, my heart thrashing around the inside of my chest and panic pulsing through my veins. I hold my breath, trying to remember what woke me.

A faint line of bluish light falls through the crack in the curtains and traces a path across the canopy hanging over the bed. Rain gusts against the window, and my body tenses.

Vsenrog’s Planting Festival is today. One of my dresses was delivered last night, along with instructions to wear it tomorrow. The bodice of that dress is ridiculously low-cut. I told Anura my nipples are going to show, and she laughed. It seems less funny now.

I sit up in bed. The man who brought the dress also brought an ivory-colored shirt, a scarlet-lined jacket, and sleek, black pants.

“For your husband,” he said, with a little sniff that somehow made it sound like it was my fault Zarek wasn’t here.

I wanted to snap at him, but I kept my mouth shut until the man left, and then I asked Anura if perhaps we should have my husband’s suit delivered to the Golden Rose brothel. She laughed at that too, but not nearly as loudly.

A low, scraping sound fills the room. I freeze. My pulse echoes through my skull.

That’s what woke me up. The scraping sound comes again, like someone is dragging a rasp across the windows. It’s low and almost hidden by the rain.

Someone is opening the window.