Tierri winked at her, maybe the first time his face had shown any true kindness. “We all have our secrets,” he said. She couldn’t deny it, though her own secrets now lay bare and exposed in front of Tierri, while his were still shrouded in mystery.
It was hard to tear herself away from Imeyna, not knowing if she would ever see her again, not knowing which of them would die first. As they retreated from the dungeon, Rayne lifted a hand in farewell to her friend as she faded back into darkness.
? ? ?
As soon as they reached the top of the stairs and emerged back into what was now a busy corridor, Tierri became the general again. It was a visible shift, the way his back straightened and his face hardened. She was beginning to doubt trusting him, thinking it had all been a terrible mistake, when he looked back at her and motioned for her to follow him.
The door he led her to was barely noticeable, just another small wooden door in a castle full of them. But when he opened it, a salty breeze wafted inside. Rayne gaped at what lay beyond—steep stone stairs leading to the beach, the very bottom steps buried in powder-white sand. The roar of the ocean drowned out all other thoughts.
“Care for a walk?” Tierri asked her. “I'm off duty for the afternoon.”
“Then why were you following me?” she asked, squinting at him.
“Curiosity.” He jerked his head to the door, obviously unwilling to say more in the palace.
Rayne led the way down the stairs, the wind tugging at her hair and skirts. She had never been this close to the ocean. Dusk was landlocked and her time in Shade had been spent mostly in Bricboro. She was unprepared for the way it made her feel—small and insignificant, like no matter what she did, whom she chose, where she went, there would always be something bigger than her out there. These waters had seen Malstrom queens and Crowheart refugees. It hid sea serpents and lost worlds. The sea was an unstoppable force.
At the bottom of the steps, she kicked off her slippers and buried her toes in the sand. It was nothing like the murky silt that lined the Tor River. Tierri was watching her, and she thought she saw some amusement in the tilt of his eyes, but regret, too, in the twist of his mouth. He pushed past her and began walking along the coast away from the castle. She ran to catch up, veering into the surf every now and then to let the water lap at her toes.
“Where are we going?” she asked, having to shout over the wind and the waves.
He spoke without slowing and without looking at her. “Once,” he began, “there lived a man in the land across the sea. We don't know his name anymore. He might have been a Crowheart, or he might have been from another of the original clans. Anyway, he killed a Kraken when he was our age, without realizing that the creature was the son of Aegis, goddess of the sea.”
Was he telling her a story? She didn't get to ask what he was talking about. She had to focus on keeping up, on straining to hear.
“He had three daughters.”
“Don't they always have three daughters?” Rayne quipped.
Tierri ignored her. “The oldest one was killed on the Impassable Strait when her ship was attacked by Kraken. Another drowned in a river when she was betrayed by Nokken. The man vowed to keep his third daughter safe and refused to let her go near the water.”
“I already know that won't work,” Rayne said.
“But it did,” Tierri said, holding up a finger to stop her. “She was the obedient, kind, beautiful daughter, and she did as she was told.”
Rayne scoffed, but Tierri continued.
“What the man forgot was that Aegis was one of Terbos's lovers, and so she called in a favor to the god of the earth. The next morning, when the girl went to gather leaves for their morning tea, she plucked a handful from the sorrow tree to add to the brew. It was a special occasion, you see, the anniversary of her oldest sister's death. It was an appropriate tribute. She steeped the leaves and her father let her drink first.”
He stopped walking and turned to look at Rayne. She had been so engrossed in the story that the sudden change surprised her and she barreled into him. He caught her and held her at arm's length, ducking to look at her. Her stomach twisted and the wind around them seemed to take a step back. The two of them were in the middle of a cyclone. At first, she worried that her shortness of breath was another of his tricks, but when it didn't get any worse, decided shamefully that it was just because of his closeness, because of his hands on her arms.
Then he spoke, his face inches from hers, his voice a throaty whisper. “She was dead within minutes,” he said, finishing the story.
Rayne had forgotten that one. She hadn't grown up with those gods from the Lost Fields; her one, true God was Enos, the Bloody God, the God of Conquest. But people in Shade and Hail had upheld some of the traditions and passed stories on to their children and their children's children, and now here was one, a Son of Enos, telling her a story of the savage gods. A story that was meant to be a clue.
“Are there any sorrow trees left?” Rayne asked. There had been one in Bricboro, but it was surely ashes now.
“There is one in Orabel's garden,” Tierri answered. “Your father hasn't been able to find anyone willing to cut it down. I'm sure he'll do it himself soon, but he hasn't gotten around to it.”
Poison. It would be discreet. It would be hands off. It was perfect.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked. He had been ready to kill her before, and now he was giving her the tools she needed to kill his monarch.
No, not his monarch.
His monarch, his queen, was dead or lost.
“Why shouldn't I?” he answered, echoing her own realization. “They are no friends of mine. In fact, they are just as suspicious of me as they are of you.”
“Of you?” she echoed. “Why you?”
“Because,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back and taking a step away. He released the wind and it filled the space between them. “I'm Tierri Malstrom.”
“Malstrom?” Impossible.
“The last”—here his voice choked on the word—“known surviving relative of the true Queen of Hail.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sibba
It satisfied Sibba in a strangely gratifying way to know that all of her belongings fit into a tiny bag that she could carry on her back. There was nothing tying her to Ottar; if she didn't come back, she had nothing to lose except for the larger pieces of her mother's hoard that she had buried in the back of Estrid's land. But Estrid could have them, or maybe in a hundred years Estrid and Ari's grandchildren would uncover the treasure by accident and it would be a great mystery for the villagers to ponder.
Sibba had woken to find the house empty. After breaking her fast on a bowl of warm porridge and securing her belongings, she stepped outside into the welcome sunlight, at ease with her decision to go to Ydurgat and retrieve her brother on her own.