Guilt flared, and I swallowed painfully. You can’t tell her. You can’t.
“You have always been one to conquer your fears, but since your brother’s death, you’ve become a walking shade.” Her breath hitched. “I keep hoping you’ll turn it all around, given enough time, but—” She sighed. “—it’s like you’ve given up, Ryiah.”
I remained silent, not trusting my tongue to work properly if I spoke.
Paige helped me to my chamber and then paused at the door. “You’ve lost yourself, and I know it’s not my place to say it, but don’t be the girl I thought you were. Be the one that changed my mind.”
How can I tell her I still am?
*
I waited until the prince had stopped tossing and his breathing had slowed, deep slumber taking over as his chest rose and fell.
Then I tiptoed down the hall, darting past moon-streaked dips of light, slipping around dark columns and pools of darkness until I reached the eastern wing.
“Nicely done.” Duke Cassius stepped out from the shadows, clapping slowly in mock applause. “For a moment, I almost believed you had changed, that the little girl had lost her fire.”
I folded my arms across my chest.
“I wonder,” the man continued, “what could be so important that we meet in the middle of the night away from your beloved prince and the others. One might almost think you’ve turned a traitor to Jerar.”
“I have a proposal.”
The Pythian ambassador leaned against a column with interest. “Continue.”
“Have your brother withdraw from the New Alliance and take up with King Horrace of Caltoth instead. Unite with the secret collective of rebels in Jerar and help me dethrone our king.” My pulse was hammering against my throat. “In exchange, we will submit to Pythian rule. Your brother will have two kingdoms instead of one."
Silence followed. All I could hear was the lull of the ocean far below. My hands were trembling; I squeezed them tighter against my ribs.
The towering man might as well have been stone; I couldn’t even hear his intake of breath.
Then: “Do you care to explain?”
I wet my lips. “Would it matter?”
“It wouldn’t. A Pythian is driven by ambition, not heart.” He paused and I could almost hear Cassius mulling over the unspoken questions in his head, trying to make sense of my proposal. “Still, we are alone, and I’m a curious man. Something tells me it would take a great deal for someone like you to change course. Just one year ago, you were willing to die for the Crown.”
“A lot has changed.”
The duke watched me expectantly, waiting.
And so I told him. I told him everything about Lucius’s deception and how his eldest had continued to uphold his legacy of murder and lies even after his death. I hesitated to explain the rebels, but there was no point in withholding information now. I was laying everything on the line. If Cassius chose to betray me, it would be too late to make a difference. I needed to give this everything I had; it was the only chance I would get.
When I was finished, the man stroked his broad chin, thick fingers deliberate and slow. “And what of the king and his Black Mage? You ask that I spare their lives—two young men the people will rally behind when it comes down to blood or a Pythian on the throne.”
“We imprison them both.” It hurt to swallow. “Blayne can rot in the cells, but once Darren…” I was struggling to speak. “Once he comes around, he won’t consider the throne.”
“You expect a boy born to the Crown to give up his legacy?”
“Darren’s legacy isn’t to be king! His father raised him t-to…” I trailed off as I saw the duke’s expression.
“To protect his brother at all costs? He’s the most formidable mage in the land.”
“You can keep Darren in the prisons until you see fit.” I spat the words, hating myself, hating that this was my only choice. “And once he is convinced, you can kill the king.” I was the most heartless thing in the room, but after losing Derrick, I found myself numb to the words. “But I won’t help unless you promise to spare them both at the start.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you will never see a Pythian on the throne.”
“And what about you? Where do you see yourself in this bright future you paint?”
“A mage in service to the Pythian king.”
“Not the title of queen? Come now, you’ve thought this far ahead. You expect me to believe you want nothing in return? A tying of two nations is common enough, and you are already a princess.”
“No!” I glowered in the dark.
“Ah.” His tone was knowing. “Your husband. You think he will forgive you of your crimes.”
“Even if he doesn’t”—my voice was hard—“I will not take part in the throne. There are plenty of highborn girls who could take my stead.”
“Well—” The man paused. “—I can certainly admit I didn’t see this turn of events.”
“Does that mean you’ll join our cause?”
Cassius’s gaze flickered in the dark. “You offer me the world. But how can I see through to my prize?”