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

I make to move, but Corrin grabs my wrist.

“Please be careful. The king may have stifled some of his enemies, but I am sure there are plenty more still loose within Cirilea’s walls. Those nearest him will be the first targets.”

I nod, tossing my apron on my table.

Kazimir waits outside the kitchen door, chewing.

“You can’t pass by a platter of sweets without eating one, can you?” I tease.

He swallows his mouthful and throws back, “You can’t go a day without flour on your cheek, can you?”

“A hazard of the job.” I brush my palms across them, my face flushing.

He chuckles and, slipping the charcoal cloak from his arm, places it on my shoulders far gentler than he seems capable. “You’ll need that. It’s cold outside.”

“Thank you.” I fasten the clasp at the collar as I fall into step beside him. “Don’t tell me Mika has snuck out to the sparring square again.” I’m only half joking. There were mere minutes between saying good night to my son and Kazimir’s arrival in the kitchen, but Mika has astonished me more than once with how quickly he can slip away.

“No.” Kazimir’s eyes skitter over my face. “Atticus waits for you there, and apparently, I’m his errand boy.”

Atticus waits for me. My heart skips several beats at the prospect of seeing him again so soon, after worrying I might not see him at all.

And why does Kazimir so freely use the king’s first name with me?

The captain grins. I hate that my kind is so easy to read.

I test the cloak’s material between my fingertips as we take the stairs up into the main castle hall. It’s soft and new, and the gold threading in it smacks of finery. “There have been many rumors today.”

“I am sure there have been. Much is afoot.” His smile is bitter. “Did you hear the one about the headless lord?”

“Yes, there was mention of that.” I hesitate. “I assume whoever it was deserved it?”

“I would say so, though it wasn’t a wise move on the king’s part.”

“Why not?”

“Because keeping him alive would have led us to enemies far more dangerous.” Kazimir holds a door open for me.

I falter. It’s not often that an immortal soldier shows such courtesy to a mortal. “So then what happened?”

“Atticus’s anger got the better of him.”

“And so he just chopped off the lord’s head. Because he was angry?”

“One clean swipe.”

“Does he do that often?”

Kazimir chuckles. “I have to say this was a first. But he seems to be experiencing many firsts as of late. For example, he will not take a vein from any of the remaining tributaries, even though they are now marked.”

Relief that I shouldn’t feel over this news stirs. “Perhaps he does not trust what the caster did?”

“That is not it.”

“Then what is it?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea.” But he looks at me as if he knows exactly why Atticus is resisting. “But he needs to, and very soon, for his own safety. If you could convince him of that, I would greatly appreciate it.”

How on earth am I supposed to convince a king to take a vein?

There is only one way of that: to give it to him.

Kazimir was not exaggerating about the cold night air. I tug the cloak around my body to ward off the chill against my skin, as excitement and nervousness fuel the heat coursing through my limbs.

“I imagine you have never walked the royal gardens before.”

My pulse doubles in speed at the sound of that deep, melodious voice, like freshly poured syrup. I quickly locate Atticus, leaning against the stone wall. He’s still wearing his formal king’s attire from earlier, but the crown is missing and the top buttons of his jacket are unfastened, showing off a columnar neck and jutting Adam’s apple.

Dark circles line his eyes.

I remember myself and bow. “No, Your Highness. I have not had the pleasure.”

He pushes off from the wall and swaggers over to me as if he didn’t just imprison the most powerful lords in Islor and decapitate a minor one. “Care to accompany me?” He offers me his elbow, his deep dimples only highlighting the full lips in between, that I struggle to peel my focus away from, remembering the feel of them against mine.

“Certainly, Your Highness. Whatever you wish.” I curl my arm through his, reveling in the strength of it. He smells of leather and an earthy spice, the same scent that lingers in his rooms.

He leads me past a dozen heavily armed guards. Are there always so many out here at night? They weren’t stationed every ten steps this morning.

“The royal garden is closed for tonight,” he orders the last one in the row before we turn down a stone path. “Don’t you have some rabbits to chase, Kaz?”

“Gladly,” comes the raspy voice behind me.

Something tells me rabbits are not actually rabbits, but I’m content not to know what those two are up to.

An odd calm envelops me as we move past an ivy-covered archway and deeper into the garden. Many of the showy blooms that thrive in the summer’s heat have withered, giving way to subtle flowers and greenery that can withstand the cooler temperatures. Here and there, a lantern glows with firelight, but many more sit cold and dark.

“We used to rely on the casters to light them each night,” Atticus explains, as if tracking my focus.

“But not anymore?”

“Casters no longer have a place within Islor. They’ve proven they cannot be trusted.”

I peer down at my hand. But one caster—supposedly the worst one—was trusted to do this.

Not trusted. Needed. Out of desperation.

“How was the rest of your day?” Atticus asks.

“I burned a batch of bread pudding.” My thoughts were stuck in daydreams about Atticus. “And Mika is pestering me to bring him back to the priestess so she may give him more markings.”

Atticus’s laughter carries through the night.

I smile. “Otherwise, it was uneventful.” I hesitate. “Less so than yours, from the sound of it.”

His delight peters off with a sigh. “And what have you heard about the rest of my day?”

Fikar’s words sit heavy on my tongue.

“Speak freely. I will not punish you or anyone else for it. I am curious what is fact and what is fabrication. They think me mad, don’t they?”

“That may have been uttered once or twice,” I admit.

“Good,” he murmurs.

“Good?”

“Yes. A mad king is an especially dangerous one, and they need to see me as such right now. Fear breeds caution.”

“They say you’ve imprisoned the eastern lords and ladies.”

“Not all of them. Only the ones from Kettling, Fernhoth, and Hawkrest.”

“So only the largest cities in the east.”

“A mortal who knows something of Islor’s geography,” he teases, pulling me closer. “I am impressed.”

I cling to his arm, the feel of his body against mine makes my heart hammer. “Master Cordin traveled often. He had a picture on the wall—a hand-drawn sketch of Islor, with all its cities. He used to talk about them a lot.”