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Inside the Great Hall, the king—?Zan’s father! I was still reeling at the revelation—?stalked across his throne room, face purple with rage, kicking down anything in his path. “How dare you?” he spluttered. “You little bastard. Dedrick Corvalis was like a son to me!”
The guards released Zan at Domhnall’s feet. Zan reflexively cringed, but after a few moments of measured counting—?one, in, two, out, three, in, four, out—?he was able to control his breathing and his fear, and he straightened to his full height. It seemed to surprise the king to have his son suddenly looking down on him.
“You know, Father,” Zan said, “despite everything . . . I never thought it could be you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Zan continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “I told myself it wasn’t possible, since finishing the job would likely kill you, too. And if you are good at anything, it’s saving your own skin. But now I understand why you insisted so doggedly that I go with you on your asinine little hunting expedition, just after I told you everything I knew about what was happening with the wall: you wanted to prevent further meddling in your operation, didn’t you? That explains why you were so adamant about keeping my marriage date within the month of the black moon; on the day we’re married, the princess, too, will be eligible for sacrifice. It helps, I suppose, that all the landholding lords would likely be attending the wedding, so we can all die together.”
Sweat was collecting in beads on Domhnall’s ruddy forehead. Zan continued, “You try to hide behind your brutality and extravagance; you put on a good show. But you’re scared. Your power is dissolvi
ng, and you feared it was only a matter of time before someone came and took it from you.”
“Like you?” he asked with a sneer. But there was fear burning on the edges of his voice.
Zan went on: “The answer was simple: find a strong ally, one who would let you keep your crown and title if you followed their orders. Dedrick Corvalis brokered the deal with the Tribunal, didn’t he? Did you promise him, once I was dead, that he’d be your heir? Did he already know blood magic before you reached that deal with our enemies, or did he learn it afterward, solely for the purpose of bringing down the wall?”
“You’re speaking nonsense.”
“Am I?” Zan roared. “I know, I know. I’m a disgrace! A nuisance! You’re ashamed to call me your son. I’ve heard it all before, Father. But you know what? I agree with you. I don’t deserve to be called your son.”
Zan stalked to the Great Hall doors and threw them open, and I continued my whispered chant, “Ego invisiblia.” I am unseen . . .
“Call the Princess Aurelia and her guard to me,” Zan told the guards waiting in the corridor. “And call a scribe.”
They arrived in minutes, Lisette fluttering like a nervous butterfly, Toris prowling behind her like a hound on the scent of a kill. “What is this about?” she asked.
Zan spoke not to her directly but to the gathered audience as a whole. “Let it be written today that I, Prince Valentin, have formally refused to wed Princess Aurelia of Renalt.” There was a collective gasp; Lisette’s mouth fell agape. “In recognition that this is an act of defiance against the orders of the king and a criminal breach of the treaty between our kingdoms, the Prince Valentin has voluntarily accepted the punishment of exile, until the matter can be peacefully resolved through negotiation with the crown of Renalt. If such an agreement cannot be made, Prince Valentin hereby abdicates all claims on the Achlevan throne.”
“Negotiation?” Toris barked. “There can be no negotiation. This is an act of war.”
“So be it,” Zan said. “Achlev’s Wall, however embattled, still stands, and our city remains safe. Better this path than the one that would have it fall and all my people with it.”
Toris’s eyes glittered. I knew then that he was a part of all this, probably from the very beginning. If his daughter married Zan and then died alongside her husband and father-in-law, without heirs, there would be only one person left in line to assume the Achlevan throne: Toris himself.
“Go to your exile, coward,” King Domhnall hissed. “So that I can be rid of you. Just as your mother wanted to be rid of you . . .”
“My mother,” Zan thundered, “loved me. She gave up her life so that I could have mine. And you know what? For the first time in my life, I’m glad. I’m glad that because of her sacrifice, I now have the chance to look you in the face and tell you that as long as I live, you will not win.”
I slipped out before any more was said; I had an appointment to keep.
Zan’s kisses lingered on my lips. Waterfall. Midnight.
30
I had not returned to my hut since Forest Gate had fallen, and the earthquake had left it in a shambles. It was as if someone had lifted the structure and vigorously shaken it. The window was dashed to pieces, the brick fireplace was nothing more than a pile of rubble, and bits of broken tonic and herbal bottles covered the scene like colored glass confetti.
I searched the mess by candlelight, finding Kellan’s blue cloak first, then my empty satchel. Beneath it lay the ribbon-tied parcel that held my wedding dress. I pulled the ribbon and watched it flutter out one last time, marveling at how faint the bloodstains were, and how very like Kate it was to attempt to clean it. She was always trying to save the unsavable.
I kept the black ribbon from the parcel—?it could still prove useful in communicating with Conrad—?and laid the dress out in the center of the pile of debris I’d once called my home. Then I tossed my candle onto it and watched it go up in flame.
The fire spread rapidly, climbing up the curtains and into the thatch roof in a matter of minutes. I watched it start to cave from several yards away, with a near-empty satchel on my shoulder and Kellan’s cloak on my back. But despite the heat from the burning hut and the warmth of the cloak, cold crept slowly up my neck and across my limbs. A feeling of dread came over me as a mist began to form between me and the fire, knitting itself together in slow, fitful lurches. The cold deepened.
When the apparition was fully formed, she was almost unrecognizable—?a haggard shade of herself.
“No, Aren. Not now. Please, not right now.” I begged her. “It’s almost over. Dedrick is dead; the collusion between Domhnall and the Tribunal has been uncovered. I’m going to get my brother, and then he and I will escape with Zan . . .” I twisted Zan’s ring around my finger. “We’ve almost won. If someone is going to die, I don’t want to see it. Please don’t . . .”
She dragged herself closer, clamping her frigid, bony fingers around my wrist like iron shackles, sucking every last scrap of warmth from me and plunging me headfirst into a sputtering, shifting vision.
