Chapter 63
Chapter
Sixty-Three
EVIE
T he whirlwind of colors yanked me into a golden palace corridor, revealing the Zandyr I’d met.
He strutted past me like he was the master of the world, sure of himself and intimidating to the bone. He had a healing gash on his eyebrow and the blood swirled in his sword’s hilt from a fresh kill. He’d arrived from another triumphant battle and rushed to report to the king and queen. He wondered why he bothered telling them at all.
Eldryan and Zavoya had done nothing to stave off the Northern Clans’ clandestine operations except send him off to the battlefield. Their weird decisions were making his life more difficult–and keeping him away from Phoenix Peak for months on end.
Which was fine by him, he hated the court, filled with sycophants foaming at the mouth to kiss his boots for the slightest advantage, and the advisors’ influence was irking him to the point where he seriously questioned why his parents still kept Banu and Valuta around.
Yet here he was, going straight to the throne room, distantly wondering if his parents had even noticed he’d been gone this long–
Steps.
Hurried.
Coming from behind.
Zandyr drew his sword and turned, only to freeze when he saw who stopped at the tip of his blade.
“Kaya?” he asked, not believing his eyes.
I didn’t either.
This Kaya had the poise of the woman I’d met, but she was in an awful state. Her hair was a mess, matted at the ends, her dress was stained, she had a crazed, desperate look in her eyes, and she reeked .
I felt Zandyr trying his hardest not to grimace or gag. The stench of fear coated her, like an animal who’d had its leg caught in a trap, wondering whether it should chew it off to escape.
“What in Xamor’s name happened?” Zandyr asked, concern lacing his voice; he hadn’t yet mastered that cold tone he’d perfected since then.
“Doesn’t matter.” Kaya shook her head and grabbed his palms. Her hands were so cold and clammy, I rubbed mine together. “I need your help.”
“Name it.”
Between battles and training, he hadn't spent much time with Kaya in the past couple of years, and she’d become as close to a recluse as her parents allowed, avoiding court and even walking through Phoenix Peak.
Zandyr now cursed himself for not paying more attention to his friend.
Kaya licked her lips. “I need you to pretend you’re in love with me.”
“Why?” He frowned. “We need to get you to a healer–”
“No!” Her scared eyes went wide. “Please, Zandyr. That’s all I need. A dance here, a laugh there, that’s all you need to do.”
“Kaya…what is going on?”
“I can’t–I can’t, Zandyr.” She kept on shaking her head. “Please do this. For me. As my best friend. I beg you.”
“If you agree to go to a healer–and tell me why.”
“Another suitor came,” she said, lower lip trembling. “He left the Capital and nobody can find him.”
Zandyr could and he did.
It had taken an expensive rune bought from a sailor Adara knew, but he found the missing lord from some newly rich house in the Morgana Clan.
What was left of him, at least.
I watched as Zandyr left Madrya at the top of the ravine and climbed down to the bottom. His feet sunk in the lush, moist ground. A small river flowed through here every spring, billowing with the melting mountain snow, and the grass grew a few good feet high during the rest of the year.
The perfect place to hide bodies.
The freshest of them had a good two weeks of rot on him. Zandyr covered his nose, eyes taking in the silvery armor and the gem-shaped imprints on his lapels. What was left of his jaw held the barest stitches of Morgana power.
His mouth was open in an endless cry.
His tongue had been cut out.
Zandyr grimaced. This suitor had been maybe two years younger than Zandyr and his biggest crime had been to want Kaya’s hand in marriage.
In the tall grass, two other bodies lay in gruesome positions, their skeletons picked clean by the ravens and bugs. No riches on them, either. Not anymore, at least.
Zandyr’s emotions rushed into me. My stomach roiled and I fought hard not to wretch.
On the battlefield, he’d witnessed good men and women, his brothers and sisters, perish before their time. But they’d known they were going into battle and had died with fierce war cries on their lips, not desperate pleas.
This was senseless, premeditated murder.
Banu and Valuta were killing–and most likely pilfering–Kaya’s lesser-known suitors, then throwing their dead bodies in this abyss nobody bothered to check. He looked at one of the corpses again, which laid on his belly, right hand stretched in front of him.
A fresh wave of disgust rolled through him.
These people had been flung here alive, tongues missing, left to die hopelessly in this pit. Then Banu and Valita could say they didn’t know what had happened to them if they were ever suspected and forced to drink a truth potion.
Zandyr rose, a mighty frown on his face. Who knew how many bodies the river had carried before these three, spring after spring.
He’d already started to suspect the advisors were a bad influence, but he hadn’t suspected this deviousness.
He needed to be vigilant–and pretend to be in love with Kaya and so very jealous at whoever looked her way, so no one else would face the grim fate of these poor bastards.
On that day, he swore to himself Banu and Valuta would lose their titles of advisors.
As he turned his back on the corpses, he uttered a silent prayer for their souls, and the memory shifted again.
This time, anger barreled into me before the colors stopped moving.
“You’re not listening,” Zandyr said, working his jaw to the point of pain, like he did whenever the fury became too much. “I saw the bodies with my own eyes.”
Eldryan and Zavoya looked down at him from their thrones, only sharing a concerned look.
“My son, that is a grave accusation,” Eldryan began.
“I’d argue the crime was graver. Those people were murdered after they left the Capital. Our Capital.” Zandyr stood up straighter. “They’d all come here to ask for Kaya’s hand in marriage and were dismissed by Banu and Valuta. It’s only reasonable we start the questioning with them.”
“You shouldn’t forget the advisors have protected and kept you safe when you were young, Zandyr,” Zavoya said quietly.
“You shouldn’t forget my geography tutor tried to stab me straight through the heart.” He also shouldn’t have to remind his own parents he’d almost died all those years ago, but Eldryan and Zavoya were who they were.
“Banu and Valuta have already faced a trial by truth potion,” Zavoya said, even as her mouth twitched, as if she was struggling to get the words out. “They were found innocent and had no knowledge of what happened to those people.”
Zandyr stopped blinking. “I already told you, they wouldn’t–”
“It sounds to me like we need to strengthen the defenses on our roads, because someone is attacking our visitors,” Eldryan said. His words sounded forced, too. “You’re now in charge of the warriors, Zandyr. How about you make sure they do their jobs and you do your duty before you start accusing the advisors?”
I was caught between the need to embrace Zandyr and knock some sense into Zavoya and Eldryan when a wave of disappointment crashed into me. Zandyr kept staring at his parents, unblinking, even as the last of his respect for them withered into nothing, along with the hope of them ever rising up to his expectations.
His smirk turned jagged. “You are the king, you make the rules.”
For now , his mind whispered.
Zandyr turned without waiting for a reply, ceremonial robe whipping behind him as he thundered out of the throne room.
If Eldryan and Zavoya wouldn’t do anything about the advisors, he would.
The frenzy of colors engulfed me again, throwing me in the middle of a ballroom, couples swerving at a maddening pace. I flinched as they veered toward me, as if they could actually collide with me.
I spotted Zandyr twirling with Kaya right behind me and a jolt of possessiveness flashed through me. But their dance was nothing compared to the one from my dreams. There was no tugging on her waist, no whispers, and definitely no heated looks. They only touched hands and shoulders and looked awkward doing it, even as they both danced as poised as possible.
In the back of the room, Banu and Valuta sat on their oversized velvet sofa, looking on shrewdly.
“Five more minutes,” Kaya whispered, the strands of jewels in her hair jiggling with the movement. “Everyone’s already seen us.”
Zandyr nodded, eyes glazed over, mind focused on the new training sequence he had to show the warriors tomorrow.
“Thank you. I know this is weird. But it’s working. Nobody else asked for my hand in marriage in months, they’re too afraid they might upset you.” Kaya’s gaze traveled to the glittered edges of the ballroom, snagging on a guard who stared daggers at Zandyr’s back. That weird, pointed look felt oddly familiar, even though I’d never seen the woman in my life. “How long do you think we can keep this up?”
“Kaya.” Zandyr sighed, stern gaze snapping to hers. “Your parents are guilty of more crimes than you know. They are not long for this world.”
Since the ravine, Zandyr had begun to investigate. It was disconcerting how fast a bribe or a honeyed promise loosened Blood Brotherhood tongues sworn to secrecy. No wonder Lord Aryon had refused a seat in the Senate of Sages. The coinmaster was the only one with enough power to remain neutral.
“What?” She missed a step. “You can’t…you can’t kill them.”
“No, first I have to dismantle their position as advisors.” For some godsforsaken reason, the civilians still saw Banu and Valuta as some great protectors which had helped stop the bloodshed decades ago, right after his parents’ controversial marriage. They had enough allies to cause trouble even beyond death, he wasn’t about to turn them into martyrs.
“Zandyr.” Kaya breathed out. “You can’t. They’re still my parents.”
“You know what the punishment for murder is.”
Kaya opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say melted in another swirl of colors. This time, the spiral didn’t stop, twisting faster.
I turned on the spot, not knowing which way to go. Through the shades of red and gold, I saw a dark shadow. The flurry of memories blew harder, trying their damndest to keep me away from it.
“You shouldn’t go there.” Zandyr’s voice echoed with concern. Not for him, but for me.
“Why?” I yelled through the maelstrom, my hair whipping around my face.
“Because some things should remain unseen.”
The memories blew harder, almost knocking me out. There was only one reason Zandyr’s subconscious mind would try so hard to keep away. “Is that the oath?”
Silence.
I’d never heard a more resounding yes.
“Will it hurt you if I see it?” I yelled. I wanted to save him, not make him bleed to death.
“Yes, but not in the way you fear.”
I clenched my jaw. Even in this flood of thoughts, he was playing riddles. I’d entered his mind of my own accord and he didn’t want to show the memory to me now, but I couldn’t risk it. “Will it kill you?”
“No.”
I pushed forward, hands covering my face. With each step I took, the wind blew harder.
Some part of Zandyr–or perhaps the oath itself–was pushing me away.
Veghearas didn’t give up so easily.
I fought and I bared my teeth and I inched closer to the shadow. Step by agonizing step, a small dark window took shape. Like I had in the Archives, I jumped through it.
I fell for the longest time. When my feet finally hit coarse, uneven ground, only darkness surrounded me.