He said nothing, so I said nothing. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking.
He turned around after a long moment, staring at me, his hands in his pockets. He looked tired. None of his kingly finery. He looked just like he had when we’d shared an apartment in the Moon Palace. Familiar. The version of him I had thought I knew.
His face was hard, tired.
“I know you want to ask, so I’ll tell you. We didn’t capture any Hiaj. We cleared out a few dozen dead bodies. Just as many Rishan as Hiaj, which should be satisfying to you. Just as it should be satisfying to know that the armory was destroyed. We lost enough valuable weaponry that it’ll take us the better part of a year to replenish the stores.”
I tried not to have any reaction.
It wasn’t satisfying. I’d sacrificed bodies we didn’t have for this. It was something, but it was closer to a draw than the victory I’d craved.
And here I still was. Captive.
Captive… but, oddly, alive.
I frowned down at myself. At the bandages around me, then at the bottles of medicine on the bedside table.
“It would’ve been convenient for you to let me die,” I said.
Raihn crossed his arms over his chest. His brow twitched. “Would’ve been convenient for you to kill me in that armory,” he said simply. “Why didn’t you? You had your shot.”
Good question, little serpent, Vincent whispered. Why? You had the perfect opening.
The truth was, I didn’t know what had stopped my hand. Or at least, I told myself I didn’t know, because that was easier than acknowledging the uncomfortable possibilities.
I didn’t answer.
Raihn’s face shifted, sliding into seriousness. He looked out the window, as if lost in thought. It was an odd expression, like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t—like a darker thought had just crossed his mind.
“There are some things we need to talk about,” he said.
I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Things like what?”
“Later.” His eyes fell to me for a moment longer, then he broke our stare and went to the door.
“Rest. I’ll be back in a bit to come get you.”
“Get me?” I asked. “And bring me where?”
But he just replied, “Like I said. We have some important things to discuss.”
And he was gone without giving me another glance.
Raihn did, as promised, come back a few hours later. I was sore and my head hurt fiercely, but I’d managed to get myself up and dressed. I wore my leathers, even though the stiff fabric against my still-tender wound made me wince.
Even when this castle had been Vincent’s, I’d worn my leathers every day. I never allowed myself to forget that I was surrounded by predators, even in my own home. But lately, I’d been lax. Lazy. The beasts that circled me now were more bloodthirsty than ever, but I’d been so foolishly consumed with my own grief that I’d let myself flop around in silk and cotton, practically offering myself up to them.
No more.
When Raihn came to get me, he looked me up and down with a raised brow.
“Hm,” he said.
“What?”
“Nothing. You just look ready for battle.”
I gave him a flat glare as we started down the hall.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Just somewhere private to talk.”
“My room isn’t private?”
I couldn’t quite figure out the strange look he gave me at that. “I’m not bringing Septimus to your room.”
My brows leapt. I almost stopped walking.
“We’re meeting with Septimus.”
“Unfortunately.”
I snuck a glance at his profile. He was staring straight ahead, face tense.
Unease stirred in my stomach. Something wasn’t right here. Raihn wasn’t going to execute me. If he was going to, he already would have. He wouldn’t have wasted the medicine or the time to heal me. Torture, though… torture was not out of the question. Maybe Raihn himself wouldn’t do it. But Ketura certainly would, or any of his other generals, if they knew of my role in the armory attack. It was what any king would do—would have to do—if faced with a traitor inside their own house.
On instinct, my hands went to my hips. Of course, I had no blades.
Raihn didn’t say another word as he led me down the hall, then down a set of stairs and into the next wing, where he opened a door at the end of the corridor.
It was a small space, maybe once a study or sitting room. It was hard to tell, because like most of the rooms in this castle, it had been stripped bare, the bookshelves now empty and not yet repopulated. A single round table sat at its center.
Septimus was there already, not bothering to rise when we entered. Vale stood nearby, his arms crossed, watching me the way a falcon eyed prey, and Cairis rose from his chair when the door opened.
Cairis smiled at me and pulled out one of the empty chairs across from Septimus. “Sit.”
Septimus gave me a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes as I obeyed.
Vale sat beside Cairis, but Raihn remained standing—behind me, and only a couple of feet from my chair, so I could feel his presence but not see him. It made me wildly uncomfortable.
Everyone was staring at me. I was used to being stared at, but not like this—like I was an object of curiosity.
Septimus placed something at the center of the table. A little cluster of shards of glass, stacked on top of each other, silver sigils etched into its surface.
Shit.
The device I’d found in Vincent’s study.
“This probably looks familiar to you,” Septimus said.
I tried very hard not to react.
I didn’t speak, teeth gritted against the sudden certainty that I was about to be tortured. This was why Raihn had kept me alive.
Behind me, his voice shivered down my spine.
“I don’t think we need to ask stupid questions that we all know the answers to, right?” His voice was low, rough. Teasing, with a dark edge. “Oraya doesn’t like games.”
Septimus gave a weak shrug. “Fair. It’s not a question, then, Highness. You do recognize this device. You recognize it because you used it.”
Give them nothing, Vincent said.
I kept a careful grip on my nerves, my heartbeat. I was locked in a room with monsters. Fear is a collection of physical responses.
I could practically feel Raihn breathing behind me. I wished he would stand somewhere else.
“You don’t even know what this is, do you?” Septimus said. “This mirror, my Queen, was created specifically for King Vincent. Your father.”
I wondered if hearing those words—even hearing Vincent’s name—would ever stop aching.
“It’s a communication device, and a very useful one, as it can be used to look in on certain individuals no matter where they are in Obitraes—perhaps even anywhere in the world, even if you don’t know their location. An excellent way to keep discreet communication in times of war. Very powerful. Rare. Some poor sorcerer toiled over this for a long time.” Amber-threaded, silver eyes crinkled with that perpetual charming smirk. “Vincent likely gave his blood to make this thing.”
“And?” I said, coldly.
“And,” Septimus said, “you were able to use it.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.