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

It dawns on me. “In my old room. Who do you think it is?” Maybe Wendeline? I pray she is alive.

“It is not our concern.” We reach the end of the tunnel and the stone wall. Copying Annika, I yank on the lever with both hands. The ceiling above shifts with that familiar scraping stone sound. I move to climb through, but Jarek seizes my hips and pulls me back. “No” is all he says before hauling himself through.

The sanctum is empty and dark.

Not a single flame burns. The lingering scent of incense is gone, and urns of flowers hold shriveled blooms. They look weeks past their prime, forgotten. An eeriness slips over my spine, something ominous hanging in the air. There were casters living and worshiping within the sanctum when I was here. Women who had nothing to do with Wendeline’s lies and treachery.

There’s no sign of them now.

“Leave your dress behind this pew. We’ll come back for it later,” Jarek instructs, shedding his fine jacket to reveal the leather vest and the arsenal strapped to his form.

The guy is a walking lethal weapon, and he is here, by my side, putting himself between me and danger at all times. It still feels foreign. “Thanks for coming with me, Jarek.”

“As if I had much choice with your stubborn ass.”

I shimmy out of the long skirt to reveal my own breeches and tunic. While the need to look noble worked in the castle, blending in as a commoner will allow us better movement outside of it.

I look up to find him watching me, but he quickly shifts, adjusting his cloak. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

His hand is on the door when it stalls.

“What is it? Do you hear something outside?”

He hesitates. “This face of yours … the one you used to wear. I have seen it before.”

I frown. “Where?”

“In my dreams. Nightly, since we entered Ulysede.” He peers over his shoulder at me, concern in his expression. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea. What kind of dream?”

He shoots me a knowing look.

“Oh.” Oh. “If it’s since Ulysede, then it has to be the nymphs messing with your head somehow. Maybe Lucretia.” But how does she know my old face? Today is the first day I’ve worn the mask.

He curses under his breath. “But why? And does it not concern you that they can get into our heads?”

“Gesine said the nymphs like chaos.” What they think they’ll achieve by filling my commander’s head with visions of Romy Watts, I can’t guess. Maybe this is something innocent. But I don’t need Jarek worried about dreams. I waggle my eyebrows. “So, you’re having dirty thoughts about me, huh?”

His deep, dark chuckle vibrates in my chest as his sooty eyes rake over my face, rolling over my mouth. “Maybe don’t mention this to the king. I’d prefer not to die the moment he hears about it.”

“I wouldn’t want that. How could I tease you mercilessly then?” I poke him in the ribs, earning his smirk as he pushes open the door.

Together we stroll out into Cirilea’s city streets.





CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR




ATTICUS


“How do you manage to stomp your foot with each step and not look like a beast walking?” I muse. “You must teach me.”

Annika’s angry footfalls grow even louder, echoing through the hall. “Neilina agreed to this brainless proposal of yours?”

“Not yet. I doubt she has even received my letter.” I hesitate. “But I did receive one from Zander.”

She gasps, grabbing hold of my forearm, forgetting her anger for the moment. “Is he well? Where is he?”

“Can you pretend for a moment that he isn’t your favorite brother?”

Her lips twist with disdain. “He’s not trying to marry me off to a Ybarisan.”

“He would if it made sense politically,” I counter. “He and Romeria are in the Venhorn Mountains with her Ybarisan soldiers. Romeria received a letter from Neilina, confirming their coming attack at the rift on Hudem.”

“Romeria is your source?” Her mouth gapes. “And you believed her?”

“I have no choice. It’s too big a risk not to.”

“And what of the eastern lords? Did she tell you about that plot, as well?”

“No.”

She hums. “Bexley, then. She’s always had a soft spot for you.”

I ignore her. Bexley and what the east is doing isn’t important, and besides, they’ll be dealt with accordingly soon enough. “Even if Neilina does agree to my proposal, we cannot trust her to honor that deal.”

Annika throws her hands up in frustration. “Then why are you wasting my time with this Ybarisan prince?”

“Why not? You have something better to do?”

“Yes. Find myself a new tributary.” She’s trying her best to hide the fact that discovering her usual tributary—a young mortal named Percy with a brilliant smile and an empty head—had been tainted didn’t scare her. It scared me. Annika is all the family I have left within these walls, even if she despises me.

“Aren’t you glad I had Wendeline mark him?” Percy was fine yesterday morning but woke up with his mark glowing. At least we know the priestess’s brand works as it should. Who poisoned him, though, no one can figure out. Saoirse has an ironclad alibi, and she wouldn’t admit to a conspirator within our household upon questioning, but she also hasn’t admitted to hiding the vial in the library and had the gall to demand we reveal her accuser.

“I hear Dagny’s son might be willing.”

Annika’s brow furrows. “She has a son?”

“Dear sister, sometimes you are so oblivious, it frightens me.”

“Regardless, why are you dragging me here? Execute him and be done with it!”

“I didn’t execute Wendeline, and she proved useful. Maybe Tyree still has value as well. And who knows? You two could fall madly in love with each other as Zander and Romeria have.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, you need a battalion of guards to keep him from escaping, but I’m sure he will take one look at me and decide he’s ready to abandon his scheming, murderous ways.”

I ignore her sarcasm as we close in on his rooms, though her words are a stark reminder that I have ten soldiers on one prisoner when they’re needed elsewhere. “Any issues?”

“None, Your Highness. The prisoner just finished his evening meal,” a guard answers.

I nod toward the door, a wordless command they know to follow.

The three guards unlock it and enter, their swords drawn and ready.

A cool breeze flows in through the open balcony. Maybe ordering Wendeline to seal it as she did with Romeria would be a better plan.

“Behave,” I warn Annika.

In moments, Tyree strolls through, the points of the swords pressed against his neck. He has bathed—thankfully—and changed his clothes into a simple black tunic and breeches. Where his arm was mangled by merth blades to hinder his affinity, silver scars remain.

“Seems pointless for you to have your caster heal me, only for these guards to injure me again, doesn’t it? Or do you plan on having her heal me regularly?”

I wave a dismissive hand and the guards step back, removing their blades but keeping them at the ready.