I greeted the palace hounds, not caring as wafts of fur and slobber speckled my cloak. Wolf was at the front of their pack, caked in mud and skinny garden weeds, barking happily as I knelt to the ground.
Sitting there, surrounded by such simple joy, I could almost pretend I was somewhere else. I didn’t have to hide my emotions here. I could sulk and be miserable and the world wouldn’t know. It didn’t matter that I had slipped up and let my rage get the best of me, that I had almost killed one of my friends in the span of a breath. The hounds didn’t care that I was tainted and lying to the world. All they cared was that I was here, feeding them scraps from the kitchen and scratching their coarse heads.
A couple of years ago, I’d feared them. Ha. I would give most anything to go back. My fears were so much greater now.
“What should I do?”
Wolf let out a yip, thumping his tail against the dirt. I choked, coughing up more dust as he rose.
“Should I keep searching the palace? I’m bound to get caught. Now that Mira has me on guard duty and she’s back in charge—”
A sharp bark made me pause. One of the others was demanding my attention, its ears cocked to the side.
“You are right, of course.” I scratched under the corner of the hound’s head and chuckled, almost madly. “Silly me, I need to give this all up and become a dog.”
Ten days had come and gone, and what did I have to show for it? The Pythian ambassador would laugh in my face.
Wolf whimpered, pawing at my wrist. I stopped petting the hound to focus on the shaggy mutt. Darren’s childhood had so many bad memories, but I still remembered the day he introduced me to his dog. The mutt’s steady eyes met my own, so much like his master’s that day years ago: happy.
That’s when the answer finally came. I couldn’t believe it had taken me so long.
I’m wasting my time.
Nyx had reminded me as much at the keep. The Pythians were ruthless. They didn’t care about right and wrong; they didn’t care about anything except winning.
I had spent all this time searching for evidence that might not exist. Would a king as ruthless as Blayne really be fool enough to leave proof of his crimes lying around for the taking? Even well-hidden proof in his chambers? Even proof that might not easily be identified as such? Proof that no one but someone like me, someone already aware of his plans, could comprehend?
The answer was a resounding no.
You know why you keep looking for evidence.
It wasn’t for the Pythians. They wanted power. I’d known the moment Nyx had said it: “Any rule is better than that of a corrupt king.” Jerar would be better under King Joren’s rule than our own. The Pythians might be greedy, but they wouldn’t stage a war or turn on their people.
I’d known all along what to offer.
These last eleven days, this investigation, it had all been for him.
Foolish girl. I had thought if I just searched hard enough I could find it, that one thing that would make my claims irrefutable, something that Darren could never contest. It couldn’t be just anything to put so many lives at stake, but I had still assumed it existed.
Even now, I still want to tell him the truth. Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes. I hated myself for being so weak; I thought that by now this guilt would be over. I knew the rules, but a part of me just wouldn’t let go.
I suspected that was the same part that had stayed in love with the prince even after his ‘betrayal’ during the apprenticeship. That part was not subject to reason. She chose Darren over everything. The problem was she believed in happily ever afters, and the truth was much more bitter. She couldn’t pick the boy in this story, and she couldn’t pick herself.
She had to pick the rest of the world, because she was the only one who could.
I hated that girl. I wanted to be selfish.
Wolf nudged at my knee, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. I didn’t know how or why, but I suspected he knew everything.
I wondered if he thought I was making a big mistake. Because right now, I couldn’t disagree.
“What would you do?” I whispered.
Wolf whined softly, resting his head in my palms; it was the only reassurance he could offer.
8
I wasn’t nervous. I should have been, all things considered. Duke Cassius and the Pythians were a scrupulous bunch. I had no idea where I would approach them, or how I would phrase the treasonous words that would start a war, or what they would say in return. I didn’t know anything. But instead of restless nights in the dark recesses of my mind, our week-long trek to Port Langli was a vacation.
“Someone looks a bit too chipper this morning.” Paige eyed me over her morning tea, her scrutiny narrowing as she fixated on my appearance. “Henry, look at her. Something is wrong with Lady Ryiah.”
“What is it?”
“She won’t stop smiling.”
“So?”