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Einar stands again, moving toward the door, as if he can’t stand to breathe the same air as me any longer.
“And the chains?” I hate to ask this because it makes me look weak, complaining about them, but I am willing to risk it just to avoid being dragged down to the dark memories of Madame’s dungeon -- or worse -- every time I close my eyes. “Are they really necessary when we’ve made a deal?”
He looks back at me with a narrowed, ice-blue gaze, and I am taken aback all over again by the way he has managed to leach every shred of emotion from his features.
“You’ve shown exactly what your word is worth, Zaina, so yes. The chains stay.”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing what his answer does to me, and he doesn’t stay long enough to watch me cave. In fact, he practically runs from the room again, leaving me and Khijhana to accept our new normal.
Being chained to a bed and branded a traitor.
Chapter Seventeen
Einar
Ican’t look at Zaina for another minute. I slam the door behind me, our conversation running wild in my head.
All those times I thought I was being unfair, comparing her to Ulla, and I was right the entire time.
Will the woman never stop haunting me?
I worry briefly about leaving her awake in my room, that she might be discovered, before dismissing that concern. No one entered without my express permission, even before there was a chalyx in there, and Zaina isn’t stupid enough to announce her presence.
I think of her meticulously thought-out answers today. She is many things, but careless isn’t one of them.
That stirs something in my brain. I can’t pin it down, though, still in too much shock over her connection to Ulla. Not to mention, the woman I’ve been looking for has been under my nose, a lady of the Corentin Court.
Which begs the question: does the alchemist know who she is? Or was he as fooled as I was?
He chose Zaina because he knew her “aunt,” and I found a note saying not to trust him.
Or was it even about him, when Ulla is an alchemist as well?
I need to clear my head. I storm through the passageways and out a back door of the castle, heading for the patch of trees directly behind it. Since my father taught me to chop wood as a boy, I’ve come out here and done that whenever I need to think or let off steam.
It’s a miracle there are any trees left, after the last two months, since Zaina came. And after today, there might not be.
On my wayback into the castle, I make a point to stop by Sigrid’s rooms before heading to my own.
I knock lightly, once, not wanting to disturb her if she’s resting, but I hear her frail voice call my name and I enter.
“Úlfur? It is you?”
I smile as she uses the nickname she gave me as a boy.Little Wolf.
“Yes, it is me,” I answer, closing the door behind me.
“Come here, boy. Tell me of your day.”
My chest tightens, and I close my eyes. For a moment, I am just a boy, and Sigrid is healthy.
“What is it? What is wrong, Úlfur?” She reaches out a feathered hand, and I take it, sitting on a stool next to her bed.
I’m grateful the lights are low and the curtains are drawn, so she can’t see my face.
“Well,” I begin, but stop myself.
I don’t want to tell her about Zaina, about Willem, about any of it. I keep quiet, so that I don’t have to lie to the woman who is like a mother to me.
