A Queen of Thieves & Chaos (Fate & Flame, #3)

“I didn’t think you would.” But he remains where he is, his hands lingering on me, his imposing form too close for my comfort.

I keep my eyes on the embroidered collar of his tunic as my cheeks flush, unsure what else to do or say except, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“How old?” he asks softly.

The unexpected question throws me off. “Only a few days,” I stammer, adding a breathy, “Your Highness.”

“Her name?”

I calm my nerves as best I can. “Suri.”

He hums, and I feel it deep inside. “That’s a beautiful name.” After another beat, his hands slip away. He steps back. “You and your children may return to your quarters.”

I find the courage to meet his gaze again. “Thank you for showing us your mercy.”

He offers an almost imperceptible nod, but his expression is somber. “I hope when the time comes, you will show me yours.” With that, he spins on his heels and strolls away, heading swiftly for a door in the back as if he can’t get out of here fast enough.

“What did I tell you, a show of power.” Corrin sidles up to me, Lilou in her arms.

“He asked for her name,” I whisper.

“And which did you give him?” A hint of panic touches her tone.

I peer down at the tiny, innocent face in my arms, relaxed in slumber once again. “The one we agreed to.”

Not the one I anointed her with in the wee hours, moments after her birth.

A traitor’s name.





CHAPTER SIX




ZANDER


“You are surprised by the witch’s betrayal?” Abarrane’s tone carries its typical scorn. I can always count on my Legion commander to mock me the first private moment she finds. In this case, Elisaf’s presence doesn’t stay her sharp tongue.

“Nothing surprises me anymore when it comes to these casters and the lengths they will reach to ensure prophecy fulfills itself. That does not mean I cannot be furious.”

Our voices echo through the tunnel in the mountain wall that separates Ulysede from the outside world. The first time we walked through here, these fifty paces felt like five hundred. But already the distance between the two portcullises is narrowing, the sense of the waiting danger beyond growing every hour since Romeria informed me of Gesine’s secret message to Mordain.

An hourglass has been flipped, and it is spilling sand. How quickly? How long before Mordain’s guild knows all there is to know about Romeria? Gesine could not say. But she freely admitted to securing paper, ink, and seal from Bellcross’s sanctum when they retrieved Ianca and tasking one of Freywich’s mortals with delivering a note to the priestess upon their arrival in Bellcross with Lord Rengard. From there, the priestess who kept Ianca hidden would know what to do.

“If it’s any consolation, that is an impossible journey. Maybe the bird died over the rift,” Elisaf offers.

“As impossible as Stonekeep lending itself to prophecy and giving us this?” I wave a hand around us. When Gesine had suggested there was more to this mountain than a sheer rock wall of ancient nymph writing, I laughed in her face. I will never make that mistake again. “She spelled the message for travel and is confident it will land in the right hands. She has proven more than capable of achieving her goals, so we must assume her scribes will soon know where to look for us.”

“Are you worried what they will do when they find out we have a key caster?” Abarrane asks, more somberly.

“I am worried about many things, Mordain and otherwise.” I sigh. “Gesine is adamant this Master Scribe is prudent. But if it should reach the broader guild, we must assume it will travel to Neilina’s ears shortly after.” And then she will know her daughter the princess is dead. What will that mean to her? “In any case, it is only a matter of time before the world knows there is a key caster again. This secret was never going to remain ours forever.” But I’d hoped long enough to allow me a chance to regain my crown and right all that’s wrong in my realm.

Abarrane scowls. “We have Neilina to worry about, and Atticus to worry about, and now this poison. We do not need an army of witches after us too.”

All the more reason for me to leave the safety of Ulysede behind. But for the first time in my life, I’m paralyzed by indecision. Every choice I could make, every direction I could take, feels like the wrong one.

“I am ready when you are, Your Highness.” Abarrane draws her sword as we approach the second gate where three legionaries stand guard, and it prompts Elisaf and I to draw ours. “Any movement tonight, Loth?”

“Nothing yet, Commander.” Loth stands sentry next to the lever, an arrow nocked in his bow, ready to fire. “We sensed something earlier, but it vanished.”

“The same as the previous night.” Horik’s hulking frame is strapped with a dozen weapons. I let his size fool me once in Cirilea’s sparring court and assumed he would not be able to compete. I ended up pinned to the dirt beneath his blade and listened to Abarrane’s mocking laughter for months after. He is one of the fastest of the legionaries. Couple that with his strength, and he is a force to be reckoned with.

Something tells me we will need that before long.

Abarrane’s sharp gaze roves the dusk beyond the wagon, narrowing.

There is nothing from what I can see but the arid, craggy ground, speckled by boulders. A thousand shadows but no hint of threats hiding within them. “One of Telor’s scouts, perhaps?” The sun has barely dropped past the horizon. It’s still too early for the saplings, unless they’ve found adequate cover in a nearby hole, which is unlikely.

“Or one of Ybaris’s,” Elisaf offers.

“Be prepared for all of them. Loth? If you will.”

He pulls the lever, setting invisible mechanisms within the wall in motion. The heavy iron portcullis draws upward smoothly.

I test the flames in the torches that line the tunnel, letting them flare under my affinity’s touch. Each night, Ulysede ignites with light of its own accord, as if sensing our need. If the city didn’t leave me so unsettled, I would appreciate its sentient abilities.

“Brace yourself, Your Highness,” Abarrane warns. “The blood curse returns with a vengeance the first time.”

“I’m prepared.” I haven’t stepped outside of Ulysede’s gate since we arrived, but now I sense a strange tingle along my throat and a sting in my gums where my needlelike incisors drop.

Four steps out, I realize Abarrane wasn’t exaggerating. An overwhelming wave of need hits me, buckling my knees. I stagger, reaching for the wall to balance myself as my vision blurs. My incisors drop of their own accord, so fast they cut into my bottom lip. All I can do is breathe through it until it subsides into nothing more than an irritant.

When I pull myself upright, the legionaries are strolling for the wagon as if unfazed.

Like me, Elisaf struggles, still down on one knee. “Fates, this feeling …” He grimaces.