Sorrow screamed.
The glove pressed over her mouth absorbed the sound, so she tried to pull free, wriggling and writhing in his grasp. How could this be happening again? Furious, she kicked him in the shin, causing him to yelp.
“Sorrow! Stop it. I’m not here to hurt you.”
To hell with that, she decided. She planted her feet into the ground and shoved backwards, driving them both into the wall with a muted thud. Damn, she’d hoped to hit the door, hoped the noise would bring guards running. His grip loosened for a moment, then tightened, as he swung them around and pressed her into the wall, trapping her against it. She was surprised by his strength, realizing too late that his carefully tailored clothes hid lithe, disciplined muscle. The understanding needled her, another trick, and she jerked her head back, trying to headbutt him as she’d done to her last assailant.
She missed.
“Seriously, stop it,” Luvian hissed in her ear. “Listen to me—”
She screamed into the glove again, tried to bite at it. She lifted her feet to stamp on his, making contact and wincing as he cursed loudly in her ear.
“Damn it, Sorrow, I found Beliss.”
She went still in his grip.
“It’s not a trick,” he said quietly, still holding her tightly. “I’ve been in Rhylla searching for her. I found her. I found lots of things. I came here to tell you them. If I let you go, do you promise not to scream, or hit me?”
Sorrow paused, then nodded. If he’d wanted to really hurt her he could have done it already. He released her, and stepped back as she spun around to face him, hands raised in fists.
“Easy,” he said. “I meant it. I’m not here for trouble.”
She barely recognized him. He was wearing the pale green livery of the servants, hair shorn all over, scruff darkening his chin and upper lip. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his eyes were slightly unfocused. He held up his own hands slowly to show her he wasn’t armed.
Even so, Sorrow wasn’t about to open her arms to him, metaphorically or otherwise. He was connected to the Sons of Rhannon, and they’d killed Dain, and almost killed her. “There’s a soldier outside,” she lied. “There are soldiers everywhere, so if you try anything…”
“I won’t hurt you. I never would. I swear it.”
She edged away from him, and he turned on the spot, tracking her path, though he made no attempt to follow her. She moved behind a desk and picked up a letter opener with a bone handle, holding it up so he could see it. “Try anything and I’ll use it. How did you get into the palace?”
He lowered his hands. “I stole a uniform from a man returning from his afternoon off, and came in through the main gates behind two others.”
Sorrow made a note to have a word with Charon about the security. “Stole it from where?”
For the first time – ever, Sorrow realized – he looked contrite. “I might have had to hit someone. And tie him up. And leave him in an alley.”
“Luvian!”
He had the nerve to smile. “I missed that. Sorry,” he added hastily when she glared at him, one hand on her hip, her eyes narrowed. “He’s fine,” he assured her. “He’ll be fine. Besides, I had very little choice. It’s not like I could have made an appointment to see you. Most of Rhannon is on the hunt for me.”
“What did you expect after what you did?”
He frowned, and his hand moved to his pocket. Sorrow gripped the letter opener tighter, but all Luvian did was pull his glasses out, sliding them on and blinking until he focused on her. “I didn’t do anything. In fact, it’s what I didn’t do that’s the problem. But let me tell you about Beliss first, that’s more important.” He paused, waiting for her to nod her agreement, before continuing.
“After I ran, I disappeared into Rhylla. I went to Beliss’s house, like we planned. I … I thought if I could get her to admit Mael was an imposter, you’d forgive me.”
“Did you get her to admit it?”
“She’s dead.”
Sorrow hadn’t expected that. She leant on the desk, her mouth open. “Her too?”
“Quite,” Luvian said. “That makes Corius, Gralys and Beliss. The only three people, besides Vespus, and Mael himself, who might possibly have proven it was a lie, are dead, all within the last few months. Coincidence, no?”
Sorrow shook her head. Of course it wasn’t a coincidence. Vespus. He had to be behind it, tidying up loose ends, in case anyone went looking.
“So there’s no one, save Vespus, who knows the truth? We can’t prove it. He’s got away with it.”
“Yes… But I think I’ve answered another question. It concerns him. And I do have proof. Or at least, evidence that can’t be ignored.”
Sorrow raised her brows.
He took a step towards her, pausing when she brandished the letter opener in warning. Moving slowly, he crossed to one of the tall-backed chairs and sat on the arm. “I met some Rhyllians, in the woods, while I was trying to decide whether to come back to tell you about Beliss. Youngish nobles, on some kind of camping-cum-hunting trip. They either didn’t know who I was, or didn’t care, and to be honest, I didn’t care either, so when they invited me to join them around their campfire, I did. We ate, and then someone got a bottle out. Starwater. And … I tried it. I’m not proud,” he said quickly. “But things were a bit bleak. You hated me; my glorious plan to win you back was in tatters. So I had some. And I promptly passed out, and woke up about four hours later to find I’d had a nosebleed in my sleep, and everyone else was unconscious too.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a glass bottle, standing and crossing to the desk, placing it between them. It was small, the base round, and there was a white powdery substance crusting the bottom, and marking a tideline around the long neck.
Her hand darted out for it, snatching it back. Careful not to look away from him, she pulled the cork from the top. The smell hit her at once, that acrid, sweet burn that caused pain to lance through her skull, making her eyes water. Lamentia.
She held the bottle at arm’s length and he took it back, replacing the cork she’d dropped on to the desk. Her headache began to ebb, and she stared at Luvian.
“This was what the Starwater was in. I drank from this very bottle. But when I woke up, it looked like this.” He held it up so she could see the white powder residue. “My guess would be that the alcohol in Starwater evaporates over time, when it’s exposed to air, and this is what’s left. It’s Lamentia, isn’t it?”
Sorrow nodded, unable to take her eyes from the bottle.