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My words were muttered, but still sharp in their deliverance. I wanted to convince the man who believed women to be useless, to keep me right where I was meant to be. Of course, little did the king know that a woman, not a man, had been controlling his information underground for years without any help from her useless drunk of a husband.
“A woman needs a male, Xmara, you better than anyone should know that.” The King’s eyes dragged over me from my toes to my head, and I could see the appreciation in them. I wasn’t exactly hard to look at, and I could see the wheels turning in his head.
“Then assign me a man of your choosing, and let me make the grandest of spectacles. I’ll belong to this male in private, but helping my King in truth. You cannot afford to lose another tester because the next one is so badly trained.” I kept my voice as steady as I could, knowing that I was walking a fine line here. Nobody contradicted his highness.
The King’s face twitched as if he was fighting an inner battle with himself. The way his body tensed and his hands gripped each other tight behind him gave away more than words ever could. Being nearly mute outside of this castle, I’d learned the subtle art of deciphering gestures, expressions, and all kinds of physical tells.
King Animus took me in, almost as if he was seeing me for the first time. He was considering this. Truly, and it was because he knew the Source wouldn’t give him a second chance. He believed that Waylan had trained me, not the other way around, but that worked in my favor for now.
“You’re more than Waylan made you out to be, Xmara Bane, and that’s dangerous. I will grant you this boon but do not cross me. I will check in on your progress weekly, and I expect you to fall into place, as a woman should.”
I’d won, and a sense of pride swelled in my chest. Oh, how men were so easily manipulated.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” I said in a delicate, thankful sounding whisper, bowing low. Then I turned swiftly back towards the door. No one had heard our conversation, which left no witnesses in case they decided to burn me for being a heretic. I was on my own for now, but soon I would have to accept that my position of power was being threatened.
* * *
Waylan had beendead for two entire days, and I was still breathing, which meant my secret was intact. I was safe but wouldn’t trust it until after his farewell ceremony. I was playing the sad but dutiful wife tonight.
I mourned him while others were around, but secretly I was preparing to train the newest male poison master, something that no female in Avedin’s history had ever accomplished. It would be tricky, playing this game for the long run, but I was already very good at lying.
The male would be delivered later, most likely after the ceremony, which didn’t leave me much time.
I loathed what came next. Every female in Avedin had to have a male, but a poisons master had to be someone expendable. The king knew enough, but he was still blindly playing a game he didn’t yet ask the right questions about, which led me to believe he would pick someone who could be easily understood as unimportant. A puppet that would believe he got lucky with a widowed wife he could claim for his own. In private, it would be another matter entirely. I didn’t have a single desire to be someone’s little wife, and I never would be again.
It was a devious way to live, but I could be happy this way. I had tried the love thing, trying to love and serve my husband regardless of our forced union. Over time, I grew to care deeply for him, however reluctantly. I gave into those raw, vulnerable emotions as I attempted to be the best wife he could ever dream of. Obviously, that had failed. Miserably. Waylan never loved me, and I understood that too late.
My naivety was strong in the beginning until I found out about the woman he had on the side. He led me on for years with lies and fake admiration or declarations of his undying love. He claimed to believe in me as a person and not just a woman under his protection as he taught me his skillset, the very trade that made him worth something in the eyes of the King.
It all came crashing down when I proved myself better than him. He grew jealous and bitter, turning to drinking to keep him warm at night. Drink…and the whore he’d given his body to instead of me.
When I took over, I gave him the benefit of thinking he was still the one in charge. That bluff grew harder to manage the more he pushed his deceit, screwing a woman who was promised to another male. That was why he had to die. He couldn’t be trusted to continue this charade in silence.
His exploits were becoming too public in those final months. People talked about his infidelity behind my back. I was a joke, and now I was a mourning widow oblivious to her husband’s shameful crimes. No one would be foolish enough to bring it up now though. They were too scared when he was alive, but to shame him now would be in poor taste. His sins were no longer my problem regardless.
“It’s her,” a little girl whispered to her little friends as I walked through the courtyard. High towers rose around us, covered in green vines laden with blooming flowers and leaves. It was lush and beautiful, but outside the castle walls, I would be met with a barren wasteland, dead trees, dusty fields, and abandoned crops. The ceremony would begin soon, so I forced out a single tear to boost my ruse.
“Watch yourself, dear. Do not disrespect…” the mother whispered, grabbing her child by the arms and dragging her away, muttering something aboutdangerandthe King. I didn’t catch what else was said as I continued on my way.
The moment I descended deeper into the courtyard, I knew it was show time. A hush fell over the crowd that had gathered, and I alone walked down the elegant stone pathway that would lead me directly to my dead husband’s soon to be charred body.
I rolled my shoulders and found my tears coming without command. I was both impressed and slightly worried about my body's reaction. The closer I got to the end of the stone path, the sooner this would be over, and I could finally close this part of my life. My sins would die with Waylan.
King Animus approached the pyre that my husband’s body was laid out on. The pine was carefully woven, and the fires would burn beautifully underneath him. A golden coin was placed on the lid of each eye as payment to the gods. That is…if they decided he was worthy of entering their realm, which was doubtful.
“This is a sad day for us all. My priests have informed me that the Source may be responsible for Waylan Bane’s passing. Rest assured, we will get to the bottom of this senseless tragedy and stop this heretic from harming anyone else in my kingdom. I will not stop until every last trace of this godless magic is wiped clean from my streets. Now, join me as I give Waylan Bane back into the hands of the gods.”
I stared in wonder at Animus. It was almost unheard of for the King to make such a grand gesture for a man who was not a member of the royal family. I almost felt like it was wasted on Waylan. Of course, no one would assume that was what I believed as I released more fake tears, dabbing at my cheeks with my black glove. It was tedious.
The arrows were notched, and I watched in fascination as the King stood tall while the archers released their flaming arrows to my husband's body. One moment my Waylan Bane was right in front of me, but then it was only flames. They licked against my face as I stepped back. It was time to put that pig of a man behind me and move on. I had a new pupil to meet.
I could feel eyes on my every movement as I walked tall and proud, skirting mourners and royalty as I headed towards the castle, back to my little domain. Their stares were almost as hot on my flesh as the flames that had caressed my face, but I wouldn’t give into the heat. I wouldn’t meet their probing eyes.
Once beneath the castle, I let out a long breath now that I couldn’t feel hundreds of eyes crawling over my skin. On the right would be my rooms and on the left my workshop once I moved some things around. Now that Waylan was no longer here to maneuver around. One floor down was a set of rooms reserved for…a more sensitive use. Something my new master in training might need to prepare himself for.
My dark hair curled around my face as I released it from the ribbon. By accident, I glanced at the mirror, noting the way my eyes, which were usually the color of bright embers, now had dark circles beneath them. I was paler than usual, the color leached from my skin as if too many hours spent in this place had stolen it permanently. I looked away immediately. Vanity meant nothing to me. I’d been told plenty of times by plenty of males that I was beautiful, in a severe sort of way, but beautiful nonetheless. Not that Waylan ever noticed.
“Let go of me—” A raised male voice called out, echoing down the stone halls. My entire body felt the air of confidence in his demand, the utter lack of self-doubt.
