Chapter 36 Lena
THIRTY-SIX
LENA
Lena had barely entered her chambers when Maia came barreling into her arms.
“Iska told me what happened,” Maia said, hazel eyes rimmed red, her grip on Lena tight enough to make her own eyes burn. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, little wolf.”
Lena wrapped her arms around the younger girl, breathing in the scent of vanilla and sandalwood clinging to her hair.
In the short time they’d been at the palace, Maia’s too-thin frame had filled out.
She still looked tired, and she was still forced to rest for days at a time after her novitiate duties took their toll, but the glow on her face that had been slowly brightening since they’d got to the palace was now impossible to ignore, and Lena was once again struck by the harsh reality that, like her brother, Maia had taken to noble life like she was meant for it.
And that Lena was going to take it all from her.
The thought had her tenderly unraveling herself from Maia’s embrace. Lena had never wanted to get her involved in all of this. Wouldn’t have had to if Finaen hadn’t—
No. She couldn’t think about that now. Because if she did, then she’d also think about how she’d taken a life for him. About how she’d almost given up her sanity just so he survived. She might not have loved him in the way he wanted her to, but she still cared. More than she wanted to admit.
And it had almost cost her everything.
“You’re not fine,” Maia insisted. “You haven’t been since you became the Fateweaver. Iska said the person who attacked you at the church was a member of the Haesta. Is that true?”
Lena’s breath caught. “Iska told you that?” It seemed unlikely, given the promise they’d all made to keep what had happened at the temple a secret until they’d decided on their next move.
“Ah, not exactly. I sort of … overheard her and Brother Dunstan whispering at the church.” Her cheeks flushed. “When you were late coming back, I got worried, so I waited for them and then … sort of … listened in on their conversation.”
“Maia—”
“I know, I know, but I was careful. And it was worth it.”
Maia grinned and reached into the woolen cloak around her shoulders, pulling out a piece of parchment.
Lena’s gaze skimmed over it. At first glance, it looked like a page of gray charcoal, but when Maia held it up to the light, Lena saw …
words. Dozens of them, and at the bottom, its sharp angles now as familiar to her as the mark on her wrist, was the symbol of the Haesta.
Lena’s heart hammered against her rib cage. “Where did you get this?”
“I saw it in one of the texts the acolytes made us study, and when I heard Iska mention the Haesta, what they almost made you … do, I wanted to help. They were talking about some sort of ritual that could help you find the cult, but Lena, it sounds really dangerous.” Tears filled Maia’s eyes once more, and she furiously blinked them away.
“I … I thought maybe something in the books we’d studied would help us find another way.
I only managed to copy a few pages before I had to leave, but if there’s nothing useful, I can get more. I can—”
“Maia,” Lena said, her voice thick with her own unshed tears. “We don’t have time to find another way.”
Despite how much she longed to confide in her, Lena couldn’t tell Maia that she’d been planning to sever her bond to Dimas, and that, if the warning the cryptic note she’d received was true, she had to do so before the Rite of Ascension.
She couldn’t tell her about Casimir, or Verlond, or how damned afraid she was of it all.
Lena couldn’t tell her anything. Not without Maia wanting to get involved.
But Lena also couldn’t let her friend think there was an easy way out of this; if, by some miracle of the Sisters, Lena succeeded in breaking her bond to Dimas before the Rite of Ascension tomorrow night, then she’d be an enemy of the Haesta—and the Wyrecian Empire.
A heretic of the worst kind, her only ally a foreign smuggler with a habit of withholding the truth and whose allegiance stood with a queen who might very well decide to kill Lena.
And if Lena failed (which was looking increasingly probable with every day that passed), then her choices were a life on the run and a slow descent into madness, or becoming the very thing she’d hated her whole life.
And whilst Dimas’s people might be safe from the Haesta’s wrath should their plan to find them work, the people of the Wilds—Lena’s people—would continue to suffer.
Maia reached for her, eyes wide. “We can make time—”
“No, Maia. The decision has been made.”
Lena hated how harsh her voice sounded. How commanding. But if pushing Maia away was what she had to do to keep her safe, then she’d gladly pay that price.
Maia crumpled the paper in her hand, lips trembling. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Tears burned the back of Lena’s eyes. “You won’t. Dimas needs me to rule; he wouldn’t do the ritual if he thought it’d put my life at risk.”
Of that, at least, Lena was sure. But her sanity, her will, was another matter.
“Do you promise?” Maia’s voice was small, barely above a whisper, as if she was afraid of the answer. As if she knew the response would be a lie even before Lena spoke.
The reply stuck in her throat just as the presence of another set of threads brushed against her senses. She recognized the feel of them by now, warm like the kiss of early-morning sunlight through the trees.
Casimir.
Good. She’d need him for what came next. First, though, she had to get Maia out of the way.
“I promise.”
Lena kissed the top of Maia’s head, breathing in the scent of her once more, imprinting it into her memory. If Lena got into the sealed chamber tonight, this might be the last time Lena ever saw her. It took all of Lena’s willpower to walk toward the door and force a smile onto her face.
To say, with a steady voice, “It’s late. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Lena hoped it was true with every ounce of faith she had left. Hoped that if she somehow managed to break her bond to Dimas tonight and flee Wyrecia, that she’d find a way to take Maia—and even Finaen—with her.
It was a foolish hope, but it was all she had left.
It was only when the door to her chambers clicked shut that Casimir stepped out of the shadows. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke.
And then Lena said, “I need you to promise me something.”
The smuggler’s voice was barely louder than a whisper when he replied. “What?”
“I need you to promise me that when all of this is over, you’ll do whatever you can to make sure Maia and Finaen are safe.”
It wasn’t fair of her to ask, not when he’d already put so much on the line in trusting her, but if she was going to have the strength for what came next, she needed to know her friends would be taken care of.
If today’s events had taught her anything, it was that even after what Finaen had done, she’d still do whatever it took to keep him safe.
She half expected Casimir to tell her he was through with altering their deal, but he simply dipped his chin, as if it hadn’t even occurred to him not to try to save them. “Of course.”
Some of the tension in her muscles released, exhaustion creeping in to replace it. She couldn’t afford to fall apart now.
“I take it you heard about the rite?” Lena asked.
Dimas had ordered the regent to inform the foreign dignitaries and visiting nobles that night, to give them time to prepare their outfits and rearrange any plans they had in the city.
“Yeah, one of the guards came to my room with a formal invitation,” replied Casimir. “I assume it’s because of what happened at the temple?”
Lena stepped back, eyeing him warily. “How do you know about that?”
“I have … friends in the city. When I arrived at Novobyrg, I asked them to keep an eye on the guards and report anything of use back to me. They must have trailed your entourage to the temple. Don’t worry,” he said, clearly sensing her growing panic.
“They can be trusted. They understand what’s at stake here. ”
He took a hesitant step closer to Lena, his dark eyes drifting to her hands.
To the flecks of blood on her fingers. Lena waited for him to turn away in disgust, or to ignore the matter entirely.
Instead, he pulled a piece of cloth from inside his jacket, the crimson fabric etched with gold thread.
There was a jug of water on the center table, and Casimir dipped the edge of the fabric into it before turning back to face her.
Lena’s breath caught as he reached for her hands, pausing just before he made contact.
“May I?” There was no challenge in his expression now. No sign of the cocky smuggler she’d met back in Deyecia. No, this was the Casimir she’d seen in Silah’s trading hut. The Casimir who had lost as much to the Wyrecian Empire as she had.
And maybe it was because she was exhausted, or because she needed to feel something, anything, besides her fear. Or maybe it was because, not for the first time, Casimir had seen a true glimpse of her—of her raw darkness—and had not run.
Whatever the reason, she found herself nodding, and then Casimir’s fingers were curling around her wrist, bringing her hand up so that he could wipe away the blood. His touch was gentle, warm like the energy of his threads, and a shiver ran along Lena’s spine at the sensation.
“I remember my first human kill,” Casimir said, not looking up from her hands as he worked. “I’d killed animals before. Korupted, too.” She sensed a familiar grief in him, of when Lena had been forced to put Silah out of her misery. Just how much of Wyrecia’s dark history did the smuggler know?