Wintertide (The Riyria Revelations #5)

“Genny and Leo arrived recently, I think.”


“Really? That’s perfect. Get in touch. They’ll have rooms in the palace for sure. See if they can get you in. Then find out all you can, especially about where they’re keeping Gaunt.”

“I’m going to need money. I was only planning to attend a few local balls and maybe one of the feasts. If you want me inside the palace, I’ll have to get better clothes. By Mar, look at my shoes. Just look at them! I can’t meet the empress in these.”

“Borrow from Genny and Leo for now,” Royce said. “I’m going to leave for Medford tonight and return with funds to cover our expenses.”

“You’re going back? Tonight?” Albert asked. “You just got here, didn’t you?”

The thief nodded.

“She’s okay,” Hadrian assured Royce. “I’m sure she got out.”

“We’ve got nearly a month to Wintertide,” Royce said. “I should be back in a week or so. In the meantime, learn what you can, and we’ll formulate a plan when I return.”

“Well,” Albert grumbled, “at least Wintertide won’t be boring.”





Chapter 2

Into Darkness





Someone was whimpering.

It was a man’s voice this time, one that Arista had heard before. Everyone cried eventually. Some people even broke down into fits of hysterics. There used to be a woman who was prone to screaming, but she had been removed some time ago. Arista held no illusions about the woman being set free. She had heard them drag the body away. The whimpering man used to cry out but had grown quieter over the last few days. He never wailed anymore. Although not long ago, she heard him praying. Arista was surprised that he did not ask for rescue or even a quick death. All he prayed for was her. He asked Maribor to keep her safe, but in all his ramblings, the princess never caught the name of the man’s lover.

There was no way to track the passage of time in the dark. Arista tried counting meals, but her hunger suggested they came less than once per day. Still, weeks must have passed since her capture. In all that time, she never heard Gaunt despite having called out to him. The only time she had actually heard his voice was the night she and Hilfred failed to rescue him.

Since then, she had been confined to her cell, which contained only a pail for waste and a few handfuls of straw. The room was so small that she could touch all four walls at once, making it feel like a cage or a grave. Arista knew that Modina, the girl once known as Thrace, had also been kept somewhere just like this. Perhaps even in that very cell. After losing everyone and everything that mattered to her, it would have been a nightmare to wake alone in the dark without explanation, cause, or reason. Not knowing where she was or how she got there had driven the girl mad.

Arista had her own share of loss but knew she was not alone in the world. Once the news of her disappearance reached him, her brother Alric would move the world to save her. The two had grown closer in the years since their father’s death. He was no longer the privileged boy and she no longer the jealous, reclusive sister. They still had their arguments, but nothing would stop him from finding her. Alric would enlist the help of the Pickerings—her extended family. He might even call on Royce and Hadrian, whom Alric affectionately referred to as the Royal Protectors. It would not be long now.

Arista pictured Hadrian’s lopsided smile. The image stung, but her mind refused to let it go. Memories of the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand, and that tiny scar on his chin pulled at her heart. There were moments of warmth but only kindness on his part, only sympathy—compassion for a person in pain or need. To him, Arista was just the princess, his employer, his job, just one more desperate noble.

How empty an existence I’ve led that those few I count among my best friends are two people I paid to work for me.

She wanted to believe Hadrian saw her as something special, that the time they had spent on the road together endeared her to him—that it meant as much to Hadrian as it did to her. Arista hoped he considered her smarter or more capable than most. But even if he did, men did not want smart or capable. They wanted pretty. Arista was not pretty like Alenda Lanaklin or Lenare Pickering. If only Hadrian saw her the way Emery and Hilfred had.

Then he would be dead, too.

The deep rumble of stone against stone echoed through the corridors. Footsteps sounded in the hall. Someone was coming.

Now was not the time for food. While Arista could not judge the passage of time in the darkness, food never came until she feared it might never arrive. They fed her so little that she welcomed the thin, putrid soup, which smelled of rotten eggs.

The approaching footfalls came from two sets of shoes. The first she recognized as a guard who wore metal and made a pronounced tink-tink. The other wore hard heels and soles that created a distinct click-clack. That was not a guard nor was it a servant. Servants wore soft shoes that made a swish-swish sound or no shoes at all—slap-slap. Only someone wealthy could afford shoes that clacked on stone. The steps were slow but not hesitant. There was confidence in the long, measured strides.

A key rattled against the assembly of her lock and then clicked.

A visitor?

The door to her cell opened, and a bright light made Arista wince.

A guard entered, jerked her roughly to one side, and attached a pair of iron bracelets chaining her wrists to the wall. Leaving her sitting with her arms above her head, the guard exited but left the door open.

A moment later, Regent Saldur entered holding a lantern. “How are you this evening, Princess?” The old man shook his head sadly making tsking noises. “Look at you, my dear. You are so thin and filthy, and where in Maribor’s name did you get that dress? Not that there’s much of it left, is there? Those look like new bruises, too. Have the guards been raping you? No, I suppose not.” Saldur lowered his voice to a whisper. “They had extremely strict orders not to touch Modina when she was here. I accused an innocent jailor of improperly touching her and then had him pulled apart by oxen as an example. There were no problems after that. It might seem extreme, but I couldn’t have a pregnant empress, now could I? Of course, in your case I really don’t care, but the guards don’t know that.”

“Why are you here?” she asked. Her low raspy voice sounded strange, even to herself.