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I’ve never seen Aika at a loss for words before, but she sure as stars isn’t saying anything right now.
I would almost feel bad for the way her already ashen face pales further, the way the life seems to leave her eyes. Except that she can’t possibly be more devastated by my question than I was at the realization that precipitated it.
Taking a long swig of whiskey, I consider it all again. It was so obvious when I bothered to put the pieces together. Zaina—orLeila—niece to the Lady Delmara, married into the Jokithan throne then mysteriously “died” only to turn up here alive, and is clearly in possession of skills no ordinary lady should have.
She certainly didn’t balk at rescuing Aika from the dungeons. Alone.
Then there is my new bride, stepdaughter to that same Lady Delmara, marrying into the Corentine throne. To me. What was it she had said that night she was arrested?
Wehaveto get married.
I had been so furious that it took me a while to realize she sounded afraid, or at least closer to fear than I had ever heard her sound before.
And of course, it’s no secret to me that my mother orchestrated this entire arrangement with Lady Delmara.
Lady Delmara.The common thread that pulls all of these people and events together. A woman with more power than she has a right to, much like the one I’ve been looking for. One who could inspire fear in one of the fiercest women I know.
Aika’s muteness stretches on, a contrast to the first time I ever asked her about Madame. Though her face had paled then, too.
No one with any sense has heard of Madame.
I scoff at the memory.
“You know, when you warned me away from her, I admit I thought you were concerned for my life. I didn’t realize it washeryou were protecting.” Bitterness oozes from the cracks of my nonchalance, like molasses from a broken jar.
That seems to shake Aika out of her stupor.
She lets out a snort of her own, her eyes narrowing as she speaks. “Madame doesn’t need protection from anyone, let alone me.”
Is that her charming way of letting me know shehadbeen protecting me at the time? I don’t know what to believe anymore. Hell, I’m not even certain if I saved her from the gallows or played right into her hands.
I dismiss the thought as soon as it crosses my mind.
Despite everything, I still believe that I can read her better than most people can, and I’m not sure even she could fake that kind of defeat.
I lean my hip against the small table, crossing my legs at the ankles, a deceptively casual stance considering all of the anger coursing through me.
“Then what is it that you do for her?” I demand. “If not offer her protection?”
Aika leans back against the pillows, eyeing me from her inferior vantage point, the firelight highlighting a defiant spark in her obsidian gaze. She hasn’t bothered to change into the shirt I gave her, hasn’t moved at all, actually, since I sat her on the bed, until now.
“If you knew I worked for her, why did you marry me?” she counters instead of answering my question. “For this? So you could interrogate me?”
Something in her tone gives me pause. Underneath the indifference is…resignation, edged with pain.
I shouldn’t care. It should feel like the least that she deserves. I should sooner let her believe that I married her as a means to an end rather than admit I care about the woman who burns people alive and might have been complicit in my brother’s murder.
But I never can seem to do the right thing where she’s concerned. I’m not even sure there is a right thing where she’s concerned.
“Let’s not pretend that wouldn’t have been an effort in futility,” I say, my voice hardening. “I don’t have the affinity for torture that you do, dear wife, and even if I did, somehow, I suspect you’d hold out.”
Leaning away from the table, I take a step closer to the bed. She shuffles her feet under her dress before shrugging with a flippancy that doesn’t meet her features.
“A girl’s got to have life skills.”
The mention of her particular skills has my jaw clenching, a reminder of why I brought this up at all.
“And do your life skills also include murdering members of the royal family?” The words come out softly, like steel cutting into leather.
