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Somewhere in the darkness, a boot scrapes against the stone floor, and I jerk my head up. One of the guards must be returning.
I scramble to my feet. Swipe at my face again. Grit my teeth against everything I feel.
A new thought enters my brain, almost worse than the sorrow and dread. Prisoners escaped. There was an attack on the Hold. This might be someone other than guards. I reach for my blade automatically.
It’s not there. I gave it to Tessa.
Alarm chases away the anguish. I grab a rock from the rubble and pull back into the shadows, peering through the hazy dimness, wondering if I’ve been very foolish in remaining here.
But then the light strikes a bit of silver and the shine of a black boot, and I recognize the palace guard uniform. I recognize Rocco, one of my brother’s personal guards.
My breath catches. Has Harristan come looking for me? He’s come here, to the Hold?
Relief hits me so fast and sudden it’s like a blast of wintry wind against all the hot sorrow. I nearly leap out of the shadows. For once, I won’t be alone here. I won’t be alone in . . . ?this.
I drop the rock and start forward. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but so much emotion has clawed its way up my throat that I’m worried I’m going to fall on my knees, clutch at my brother’s hands, and beg for a release from all this.
But it’s not my brother following the guard.
I stop short. My heart feels like it wants to explode from my chest. Every muscle tenses. That cool wind of relief turns into a hot wash of shame and vulnerability.
Tessa has stopped short, too, and I can tell from the shift in her expression that I was right: I am a living nightmare. Her lips part and her eyes widen and she sucks in a breath. “Oh,” she whispers. “Oh no.”
I want to be indifferent. I want to not care. I want so much that I can’t have.
I look at the guard. “She shouldn’t be here,” I say viciously. “Why would you bring her here?”
“I asked him to,” says Tessa—and for the first time, her voice isn’t full of censure, it’s . . . ?mollifying. She steps toward me.
I step back. I keep my glare fixed on Rocco. “Take her back to the palace. Now.”
“No.” Tessa steps forward again. “Just—”
“Stop.” I pull back again. I can’t meet her eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Please. It’ll be—”
“Go,” I snap. “Or I’ll lock you down here forever.”
“No, you won’t.”
She reaches for me, and I jerk away. My boot catches on that rock I dropped, and I stumble back, tripping over a splintered beam of wood. My shoulders slam into the wall, and my fingers curl into fists. I’m breathing hard like a cornered animal.
She has the good sense to stop pursuing me. We stand there in the flickering torchlight. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, her face clean-scrubbed, her clothes so simple I’m surprised she found them in her closet.
I’m wearing the same fine jacket I wore to dinner, but every inch of me is streaked with dirt and soaked in blood.
“No illusions now,” I say.
“No,” she agrees, her voice even.
I glance at Rocco who’s waiting not far behind her. “How did you get him to bring you here?”
“I asked him to find you.”
“Where is Harristan?” I look at the guard, and a new worry lances my heart. “Why aren’t you with the king? What has happened?”
“His Majesty ordered that I attend to Miss Tessa,” he says impassively.
