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Caged in his strong arms, his burning intensity, so different from the distant prince, kept me locked in place.
He leaned closer, his breath tricking my body into believing things were different between us. Wanting me to finish what we started in the princess’s chambers.
His lips brushed my temple.
“Why are you still here Tempest?”
“To help.” Perhaps not in the way he thought, but if I could regain his trust enough to show him the letter by working together, that was what I would do—surely running into each other in a city of a million showed the Wishmaker’s approval. Perhaps if we found the missing food, even Lumi would have to see he was not all bad. “I’m here because I care and want to make amends.”
He seemed to barely hear my words, gears moving behind his equally dark eyes.
“I should have known.” Slowly, he slid his hand down my arm. My skin tingled under the cloth, and my breath caught. I did not dare to move as he caressed my wrist, pulling the coat and shirt sleeve up. Despite the darkness, he followed the stark lines. The noble’s sigil was a lie I could never erase. “If they would fake this, how far would they go?” he mumbled.
Despite the intimate touch, the closeness I had longed for remained far away. He was not thinking of me at all, but trying to guess who was behind my appearance in his life.
I wanted to tell him about von Lemerch. That I had seen Eki with her in the crypt. The letter and the truth about the plague.
A tiny mage light appeared above us, too small to be recognizable from the street despite the missing front door.
“You can start by telling me what happened here, Tempest. He was too good a man for his bones to be thrown into the Taliell. I have had people search all streets, but no one would tell me who took them.”
And then I realized where he had taken me.
The light revealed charred beams barely carrying the ceiling and a narrow staircase leading to the upper floors. Stones irregularly worn by countless feet lay beneath us. In the back stood the remnants of the communal oven and chimney, the only thing warming the house in winter. It could have been any Lowtown tenement, but the beam leaning just so was imprinted on my mind. This was where Dimitri stopped the flames and almost died.
It was where Alexei had died on the front steps, keeping his friend safe.
After my show of magic, it might never be inhabited again. We were superstitious folk.
“Well?”
The mage light vanished. Perhaps he did not wish for me to see the sorrow in his eyes, though the pain that had laced his voice was unmistakable.
I swallowed, longing to move an inch forward and lean against Dimitri’s chest to reassure myself he was not lying lifeless on the floor two feet away. But he was right. This as well was not von Lemerch’s secret. She had nothing to do with what happened. As I prepared my words, no choking hands closed around my throat in warning. I was only protecting myself.
“I found him outside the door facing a mob,” I whispered, skipping my sister and the magic, praying to the Goddess my words would give him peace instead of more pain. “They were throwing stones, and he was already hurt.” The stake in his chest and blood staining the uniform flashed before my eyes. “I convinced them he was just a guard trying to help. Made them leave.”
“How?”
I shook my head, knowing he would feel the motion. “I don’t know. They never listened to me before. Popova spoke up for me—she holds power in Lowtown, magic of some kind, and lives just down the street.” And would hate being spoken about to the crown prince. He had no idea how much I was giving him, how many of the taboos of thieves and the disenfranchised I was breaking by talking.
“But they didn’t hurt him?”
The scene replayed before my eyes. “A stone brought him to his knees. I’ve no idea how he stood so long… we might have all lived. Then someone else came. Stabbedhim. It was so quick. I… I’m sorry.”
Meaningless words. I should have done something more. Been faster. Cleverer.
“Don’t hold back now,Vanya.”
My name was a curse rather than the caress I longed for. How did I explain Kirill? He had been my stepfather and jailer, cruel and calculating. Had dealings with von Lemerch I could not speak of.
“Let me show you like I did my life.” I could only regain his trust by giving mine in return. The time for deceptions was over.
I reached to lay my hand on his chest, and he flinched. I froze. When he thought me a bride he did not want, someone who torched the palace and stole her own crown, he had desired me—I had felt it even as he walked away.
My eyes burned.
Was there a melody for heartbreak? A fragile note? Or an off-key pitch, ripping through the body?
