Chapter 5
Julian drags me toward the carriage, golden vines crawling over the polished wood.
“What in the fates were you thinking?” he hisses into my ear.
The driver opens the door, and Julian shoves me in, my knees slamming against the green velvet interior. I scramble toward the opposite side and throw open the curtains, watching as my crew’s carriage disappears around the curve in the road.
I sink onto the seat—the fight drained from me. An ache spreads across my ribs where Golan slammed the boulder into my side, and my head throbs from hitting the ground. But it all dulls compared to the pain gnawing in my chest.
If this is what my crew thinks about me, what about the rest of my court?
Julian lifts a leg into the interior, but a hand pushes him out of the way and blocks the entrance.
“I’m riding with her,” Kressa says, pulling herself into the cabin.
Julian’s frame fills the opening. “But—”
“No,” I snarl, straightening my back.
She turns to me, her honey eyes molten, angry. “You’re not in any position to be making demands, prisoner. You’re lucky your head is still attached to your body. We need to speak. In private.”
“I’d rather be dragged by the horses to the castle.”
A scoff. “It seems that’s what your crew would prefer, too.”
The words are like a slap to the face, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek, fighting back a fresh wave of tears.
Kressa gives Julian a nod. “I’ve got it.”
“Fine. But I’ll be sitting at the front with the driver, should you need me.”
“I won’t,” Kressa says.
“Don’t speak too soon,” I mumble under my breath, watching as the king’s carriage rolls down the path toward the castle in the distance.
Over the last ten years, there was a very small amount of time when I was alone. A couple weeks. But since then, I had Thea by my side to remind me who I was and what I was living for. But now, I have no one.
Julian shuts the door, and the horses whinny as we take off.
“You knew they hated me,” I say. “The moment you put me on your ship and brought me here, you knew. Fates, the fact that you even knew they were here to begin with, and you didn’t say a word to me.”
“Don’t act like this is my fault. And after what you just did to Elias, you deserve to rot in a cell.” She shakes her head. “And, if you must know, my brother was the one who told my father not to bring them to the harbor for your arrival. Then you nearly killed him.”
I swallow, staring at my bound hands. The desperation in Celia’s voice rings in my ears, and the frantic look in my crew’s eyes as Kressa held a blade to Thea’s throat flashes in my vision. After that, they must think I’m more of a monster than I already was.
But it doesn’t change the fact that Kressa has kept everything from me. I curl my fingers into fists. “Where’s my ship?”
“Stolen on the way here.” She sucks in a cheek. “It was chaos after Sarenia was attacked, so no one knows its whereabouts. But even if it was here, you wouldn’t be brought anywhere close to it.”
Silence fills the cabin. The rolling hills of Ignata come into view out the window—homes peppered along the foothills. I should study it—memorize the path back to the harbor. But what good is it? Even if I managed to escape, I’m not sure my crew would follow.
I’m not entirely sure I blame them.
Kressa taps her fingers against her thigh. “I have questions about Isolde.”
I scoff. “Right. You wanted to talk.”
“What was she planning?”
My brows pull together. “What do you mean?”
“I had intelligence inside the castle. I know she was collecting forces and planning something, but I could never find exactly what it was or where she was keeping her army.” She turns to me. “So, what do you know?”
Leaning back against my seat, I rest my temple on the window. “What makes you think I’ll tell you anything?”
“Because this is bigger than us. Your mother might be dead, but the Sea is still fighting.”
“Fighting who?”
Her hands fold into her lap, thumbs tracing over each other. “Callum. The rumors about his plans to overthrow his brother were true, and he took over Sarenia the moment we left.”
My lips part, and I pull in a deep breath. “Who’s leading the Sea?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but that’s not important right now. What is, is what Isolde is planning.”
“Not important?” I shake my head and lean closer, lowering my voice. “If we want to talk about what’s really important, let’s start with that fire power of yours.”
Her eyes flash. “We aren’t speaking of that.”
“Then we aren’t speaking of Isolde.”
“Why?” Her fingers curl into fists around the plush bench seat. “Are you protecting her?”
“Would that make you jealous?”
She turns her gaze out the window, where the morning sun crawls farther up the sky, and my question lingers in the air between us.
I’m not protecting Isolde, and in reality, I was never privy to the details of her plans. But the knowledge I have of what she shared with me is my only leverage against Kressa—an advantage I’m not yet willing to disclose.
The carriage rolls through the streets of Ignata, and I scan the buildings.
Sarenia was all sea-battered homes—salt clinging to the wooden siding like moss.
Polished marble makes up the homes in Delterran.
But here, protected from the elements deep within the valley, the buildings are a dark stone.
They are dense, each of the homes pressing against the one beside it.
And as we roll closer to the castle, the homes grow taller, stretching higher.
In the distance, obsidian spires spear into the sky, and tucked into the base of the mountain, a castle stands watch over the city.
People stand on the sidewalk, others leaning against doorframes or out windows, watching as we pass.
Many generations ago, the Fire Court thrived here under Serinos’s watchful eye. Until she disappeared and took them with her.
And now, it’s the unofficial stronghold for the Earth Court.
“A truth for a truth?” Kressa whispers.
I shift in my seat. “You first.”
She blows out a breath. “Do you even know what Isolde is planning?”
Isolde’s betrayal stings, but the less Kressa knows, the better. I chew on my lip and shake my head. “I guess I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets between us. She never mentioned a thing.”
I hold her gaze as the lie slips from my lips, and only now am I grateful for the rhodium cuffs blocking my thoughts. I never quite got the hang of shielding my emotions from her.
Kressa sighs, shifting the wisps of hair framing her face. “Why would she keep that from you?”
“I’ve already given my truth. It’s your turn.”
She traces the gold embroidered woven into the door. “By all means.”
My gaze climbs to the space above her heart. “Is it gone? Our bond?”
Her gaze settles on my chest, then flicks away. “No, it’s not. Unfortunately.”
The rhodium around my hands must be thick, then, if it’s enough to drown out our thoughts completely. “Gemma told me refusing it is painful. Fatal.”
Kressa hums. “Which is why I’m going to break it.”
“Is it possible?”
She nods.
“Good.” I swallow down the unease creeping up my throat. “How long will it take to figure out how to do that?”
“I’m not sure.” She stares at the space above my shoulder, out the window. “There’s so little I know about what this bond means. But all I know is it’s designed to draw us together, regardless of how badly we want to be apart.”
“Won’t be a problem,” I snap, jostling my chains, “considering I’ll be in a cell.”
She looks at me through the corner of her eyes. “Yes, shouldn’t be a problem at all.”
The carriage passes through a stone gate and swings into a circle drive, stopping in front of the steps leading to the main gates.
“And if we don’t find a way to break it?” I say.
“I don’t anticipating ever pursuing this bond with you.” She undoes the latch and pushes the door open. “So, like you said. It’s fatal.”
Fresh air fills the carriage, stealing her scent, and before I have a chance to follow her, a pair of royal guards fill the doorway and yank me out. I stumble onto the brick drive, and the guards jerk me toward the steps, each one gripping my arm in a vise.
Kressa turns her back to me and walks with her chin held high, hands swaying at her sides.
Gone is the bounty hunter who trapped me in the alleyway a handful of weeks ago—the one who pried the selkie tails from the wall, carved me a miniature ship for my birthday, whispered honeyed words into my mind while we made love.
This woman, in her pressed emerald suit with gold cascading from her shoulders, is a ruler. And if she’s anything like me, she’ll stop at nothing to save those she loves.
She disappears through the double doors, and the guards push me over the threshold. A grand entrance crests overhead, and light sprinkles in through rose-plated stained glass, cascading down the columns. A ruby glow pools on my footsteps as I regain my balance and we cross the space.
The ceiling looms overhead—taller than any castle I’ve entered. Empty divots trail over the obsidian walls, twisting and weaving like a river would through the earth.
A set of arched doors loom over us, and guards heave them open. The throne room.
The air shifts, and my gaze settles on the far end. On a raised dais, King Golan stands from his throne—the one beside it empty—saved for the late Queen Amira.
Kressa strides down the runner and flanks her father’s left side—Elias standing on the right. A semicircular table hugs the dais, each of the seats taken by Golan’s advisors.
This isn’t simply a presentation of me as a prisoner. This is a trial.
Royal guards line the room, yet not a single one has a blade strapped to their hip. Wielders, then.
Gemma brushes past me, the tips of her inky hair falling past her shoulder blades as she makes her way down the aisle. She pauses beside the advisors’ table, and I blink as she slinks around the curve and takes the center seat.
Our gazes catch, and she gives me the barest hint of a nod.
I suppose someone had to take Kressa’s spot on the council, now that her identity is no longer a secret.
“Queen Briar Calisdana,” Golan begins, his voice echoing off the walls. “You are under arrest for the attempted assassination of heir to the throne, Prince Barren.”
My heart races in my chest as I scan Kressa’s expression, then Elias’s—each of them staring at the wall behind me. If they know what’s coming, they don’t show it.
Kressa’s chest stills, as if she’s holding her breath, but she refuses to look my way. Somewhere, in the space above her heart, my power twists through her ribs, drawing us together. A force beyond control, yet she’s always been far better at wielding her restraint.
If only I could carve her power from me. Not to return to her, but to bury in the deepest depths.
“I have conferred with my council,” Golan continues, pulling my attention back to him. “We have come to an unanimous decision.”
Gemma won’t look my way either, and my pulse picks up, knocking like a drum in my ears. I didn’t come all this way or risk my life in The Gales to be a prisoner.
I step forward. The heel of my boot taps against the polished stone, and I level Golan with a stare. “Do you and your council understand what I did to free Barren? The sacrifices I made to ensure Kressa made it out of Sarenia alive?”
His eyes darken, and he steps down the dais, around the advisors’ table, and comes to a stop inches away from me. I force my chin high, refusing to balk under the presence of another ruler. I spent too long under Caelus’s thumb, pretending to be a willing courtesan.
“It makes no difference how heroic you believe your actions were, when you were the harbinger. You fanned the flames of war. Let a false ruler bring another court to its knees. Tens of thousands have lost their homes or their lives, because of you—a simple girl, unfit to rule a court.” The world sharpens to a pinpoint, and his lip curls back. “In fact, I’m doing the Sea a favor.”
I narrow my eyes. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have let a simple girl stroll into your castle with a dagger at her side.” I shake my wrists, letting the chains rattle at my sides. “Scared I’ll do that again?”
“Not in the slightest.” He chuckles under his breath. “But as soon as you’re taken care of, the Sea will be in much better hands.”
The blood drains from my face, and my eye widen. Before I have a chance to say another word, he turns on his heel and climbs the dais, his cloak dragging up the steps behind him. My lungs only manage tiny sips of air, and—as if by instinct—I find Kressa’s gaze.
But her eyes are cold, comfortless.
Golan faces me. “Briar Calisdana, you are sentenced to death.”