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

“She could have been lying to save her skin.”

“That’s what I assumed at first. But the princess in the castle after the attack is not the same one I escorted south from the rift before her wedding to my brother. That one was sweet and seductive, and said all the right things to manipulate those around her. This one?” I smile as I think of the day Zander foolishly put her on the dais. “She’s brash and clever and funny, and she seems to care genuinely for mortals. And she loves my brother.”

Gracen seems to absorb this, her anxiety from earlier no longer consuming her. “So then perhaps Malachi gifted us a better version?”

“Perhaps.” But Malachi granted new life to her, and he would not give that without expecting something in return. The fates will blind you with a shiny coin before they cleave off a pound of your flesh, my father always claimed.

“Do you think this version of Princess Romeria means Islor harm?”

“Not explicitly, no, but it does not matter because the guidance she offers my brother will cause damage all the same, and he does not see it. He is infatuated with her. Besides, there is only one version of her that people care about, and that one has caused us harm. Irreparably so. Her close association with my brother, the choices he was making for Islor’s future … too many of Islor’s lords and ladies would never have accepted her on the throne, even before they learned of the poison. And now that it is filtering through every corner of the realm, poison that is the very blood that runs through her veins, her intentions mean nothing.”

Gracen bites her bottom lip in thought. “The night of the tournament, when you … were appointed king …” She chooses her words carefully.

“When I used my brother’s army to seize the throne, you mean.” I know how I’ll be remembered by history, if Master Sicily chooses to capture it accurately. I hope he also captures my reasons, which were never anything but with Islor’s best interests at heart.

“Would you have executed Princess Romeria had you caught her?”

“Yes.”

Gracen flinches, and a part of me regrets being so frank.

“Either her amnesia is real, or she is an even better manipulator than her predecessor. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. The poison that plagues us flows through her veins. There can be no future for Islor if Princess Romeria lives. Whoever she may be now.”

Gracen studies her hands a moment. “There is much gossip within the castle. I don’t know what’s true and so I pay attention to little. But I heard Caster Wendeline helped with the princess’s scheming.”

“Wendeline played her part, but she has revealed nothing of use upon questioning. I doubt she ever will.” The only thing the caster cared to admit was that Zander had no clue about her deception.

“She’s still alive?” Gracen’s eyes light up. With relief, I realize.

“She is, for now. I haven’t decided if she can be of use to me yet. Why, do you know her?”

She shakes her head. “I mean, I met her the day we joined the royal household. Princess Romeria took us to see her in the sanctum. She fixed Mika’s hand.”

“I noticed his scars. Burns, right?”

“Yes, he ate an apple without permission, and Lord Danthrin punished him for it. He didn’t have much use of his hand after that and suffered from constant pain.”

My teeth grind. It’s a good thing I didn’t know this that day in assembly. No wonder the children cried.

“But Caster Wendeline erased all that as if it had never existed.” Gracen smiles, and then catches herself and smooths her expression. “I am grateful to her for that. But I don’t know her.”

There is something so pure and honest about Gracen, despite all the hardships she has faced—some I probably can’t guess at, some I wouldn’t want to. “I do miss having her healing touch, I will admit that much.” I sigh. I didn’t bring Gracen here to talk about the previous queen-to-be’s betrayals. “So you threw the vial into the latrine?”

“I was afraid the guards would search us again, and I didn’t want to risk being caught with it in my pocket or anywhere in my room. I knew what that might look like.” She sounds apologetic.

“You did the right thing. Nobody would have believed you. But I know you’re not conspiring against me.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I watch her steadily. “At least I hope not.”

She shakes her head, holding my gaze. “I would not, I swear.” After a moment, she adds a breathy “Atticus.”

I love the sound of my name on her tongue.

I would love to hear it in her moans too.

The bell tower gongs, signaling the midnight hour. “You must go.” My insides sink with disappointment. I could talk to Gracen for hours and I doubt I’d get bored.

“Yes, I suppose I must. As young as Suri is, she’s already on a clock. Mika and Lilou will sleep through much but not a baby’s cries.” Yet she lingers. With her own reluctance?

“I’ll escort you to the door.” I rise from my seat, and she follows suit instantly. My hand grazes the small of her back and she stiffens, like she did earlier in the library. I don’t like that much. I’m certainly not used to it. Is it my touch, or any male’s touch? She can’t be entirely unfamiliar to the latter, given the three children she’s produced. So what did that prick Danthrin put her through?

The question is on the tip of my tongue when she peers up at me, and asks, “What will you do? About your future wife who means to kill you?”

“Don’t allow her to succeed?” I chuckle.

Her brow remains furrowed as we walk.

“Thank you for being brave enough to seek me out.”

“I feared telling you,” she admits. “Not for my own sake, but for my son’s. He’s a little boy. A little mortal boy, accusing the future queen of conspiracy and treason.”

“And you are afraid I will name him a witness to such a thing.”

“Yes.”

“But you came forward, anyway.”

“I couldn’t ignore it. Especially not after the kindness you’ve shown us.”

“So you felt that you owed me.”

“Yes. I mean, no … it felt like the right thing to do.”

It was, and yet not many servants would. “Practically, Mika is what, four?”

“Five.”

“Only five. He cannot be named a witness against the future queen. The court would not accept it, and I would be considered a fool for doing so. Regardless, naming him would put him and you in danger from those lords and ladies plotting against me as we speak. And that, I would never do.”

Her throat bobs with a hard swallow. “Thank you, Atticus.”

Fates, her voice is like a soft melody in my ear, singing me to sleep.

And that racing pulse in her throat? The euphoria its contents promise to bring? I feel the burn against my gums, where my incisors beg to emerge. It’s been too long. If I keep her here any longer, I’m liable to take something she hasn’t offered and risk my life in the process.