Chapter 36
“Quick, before anyone sees.”
Kressa shoves me through the doorway into her living quarters and slams the door behind her. My heart hammers in my chest, and I brace my hands on my knees—catching my breath after sprinting through the castle.
We waited nearly an hour in the rowboat, floating in the harbor until she reappeared at the dock. Thea, Elayne, and Celia piled into a carriage driven by Julian, while Kressa threw a cape around my shoulders and shoved me into a separate one.
I’m separated from them. Again.
A door creaks open, and I straighten, pulling my hood off as the identical image of myself steps from the room.
The glamour melts from Gemma, and she curls her lip back. “You could have mentioned I would be prisoner for over a week.”
Kressa sighs. “I’m so sorry. Truly, I didn’t think we would be gone so long.”
Gemma’s gaze swings to me, and it softens. “Did you find her? Inez?”
My chest warms at the concern in her voice. She wrings her hands in front of her, and red rings her eyes—as if she’s cried into the small hours of the morning. A woman mourning her sister.
And although my crew isn’t related to me by blood, the thought of losing any of them is like a blade carving out my heart.
I step closer and nod. “We rescued her from the prison.”
Her eyes widen. “Which one?”
“The one pressed into the cliff.”
She blinks hard, as if she’s fighting back tears, and pulls me into a hug. The blunt ends of her midnight hair brush against my cheek. “You saved her from a fate worse than death.”
“I know. And I can’t thank you enough for what you did.” I pull away and rest my palms on her shoulders. “It was brave and selfless of you to be me while we were gone. I have a debt to you.”
“It’s what Marianne would have wanted.”
Kressa steps up beside us and runs a palm over Gemma’s shoulder. “She’d be so proud of you, but you must be exhausted. I asked a few servants to deliver food to your quarters and run you a bath.”
Gemma gives Kressa a warm smile, any hint of anger gone. “I appreciate it, Your Highness.”
I drop my hands, and she gives us a parting nod before she slips out of the room. The door clicks softly behind her, and a heavy silence settles between Kressa and me.
“You can’t marry him—whoever it is,” I breathe. “I don’t care how many soldiers him or his father have. You can’t do it.”
She steps closer and adjusts the button on my cloak. “I spoke to my father about your execution. He agreed to spare you and keep you as a prisoner, but only if I willingly marry.”
My mouth goes dry, and I shake my head. “There has to be another way.”
“Like what? Killing him?”
I scoff and reach out a hand, tracing the scar up the slope of her throat. “It worked for me.”
“This isn’t up for discussion. But if you’re going to live, there’s something I need to tell you.” She dips her head. “Something I need to show you, just in case.”
I lift a brow. “What is it?”
She pulls the hood back over my head. “We have to go before the sun rises.”
“But where?”
Striding toward the door, she pulls a cloak from a hook and swings it around her shoulders. “We’re making a visit to Nicole.”
“You’re taking me to the Fire Court?” My eyes widen, and my heart hammers in my chest as I press my palm against the emerald in my pocket. I need to shove it under my mattress and focus on finding my compass, not visit a crumbling community.
She buttons the cloak at her throat. “Yes, but when we arrive, you cannot tell anyone who you are or that you wield fire.”
“Why?”
“As an outsider, having that sort of power can be dangerous. They don’t even know I wield fire.”
I swallow and nod, following as she strides toward the bookcase that crests over the sweeping windows. Dragging her fingers across the tomes, she pulls one out.
It tips sideways, and a hidden door in the wall slides open, revealing a pitch black corridor. My breath catches, and I scan the spine of the book hanging at a diagonal out of the bookcase. A deep brown leather, the words etched in gold—yet too worn to make out the title.
Stale air wafts out of the opening, and I wring my hands around the fabric of my cloak. “Where does this lead?”
Her lip quirks, and she wraps a hand around my wrist. “Just trust me.”
“Never,” I whisper. But I let her pull me into the pitch black.
The temperature plummets, and I strain my eyes against the dark, skimming my fingers against the wall.
Our footsteps tap through the narrow space, and the toe of my boot catches on a gap in the uneven ground. I pitch forward, and Kressa shifts her hold, steadying me.
“Careful,” she breathes, so close her breath caresses the side of my cheek.
Goosebumps crest over my skin, and her hand trails down my forearm, fingers weaving through mine.
“I’ve got you,” she says, holding tight to my gloved hand.
Taps echo through the dark corridor, like water dropping onto stone. No lanterns dot the walls, or slivers of light coming from underneath doorways. This isn’t like the servant’s corridors back in Sarenia, nor the likes of any we have in Delterran.
This corridor is for going in and out unnoticed.
She slows, guiding me behind her, and whispers, “Stairs.”
I hold tight to her hand, trailing my fingers over the wall as we descend into the belly of the castle. The path levels out, and light filters through a wooden hatch at the end of the hallway.
“It’s taking us to the edge of Ignata,” Kressa whispers.
Dim slices of light stream onto her face, and the gold in her eyes shimmers.
We pause in front of the hatch, and she unhooks the lock, easing it open a crack. She peers out, then pushes it up the rest of the way and disappears onto the street.
“Watch your step,” she says, holding out a hand. “It’s not exactly hard to get out, but the ground can be slick.”
I pause, looking up at her. “Why are you taking me there? Just over a week ago you arrested me and handed me over to your father, and now you trust me enough to show me the most kept secret on the continent?”
A shadow passes over her face. “Like I said, you’re valuable.”
I shake my head. “That’s not good enough, not anymore. What are you hiding from me?”
Her expression softens, and she offers me a hand. “I can answer all of your questions later. But for now, I need you to just trust me. Please. It doesn’t even have to be trust, Briar. Just a sliver of confidence that I’d do anything in my power to protect you.”
“Like agree to a marriage you don’t want.”
Her eyes harden. “Exactly.”
My stomach clenches as I scan the lines pressed into her palm—the raised calluses at the base of her fingers. Those same hands have held blades to my throat, but they’ve also touched me so gently they’ve raised bumps in their wake.
I take her hand, and as our palms press together, an ache gnaws at my chest. My skin craves her touch, uninhibited by the thick layer of rhodium.
She pulls me through the opening and lowers the hatch behind us. It blends seamlessly into the alley—disguised as an entryway for maintenance.
“How long did it take you to find this?” I say, eyeing the dark alley.
Only the stars overhead light the night sky, casting a gleam over the treetops.
She shrugs. “I read most of the books in that bookshelf while I was recovering from you slitting my throat. So, I found it when I pulled out the right book.”
“Oh,” I whisper, studying the scar. “I’m sorry.”
She stares at the space over my shoulder and shakes her head. “I’m not. Not anymore.”
My brows pull together. “Why?”
“I’ve considered the alternative outcomes.
What it would be like if you married my brother, or if you never showed up in the first place.
I wouldn’t know you, or what was lacking in my life.
Both would end in heartbreak for me.” Her eyes find mine.
“I’m not sorry, because if it didn’t happen, I’d never experience what it’s like to know you deeply. ”
I pull in a sharp breath. Shadows blanket her face in darkness, but I study her expression—piecing together the legitimacy of her words. The space in my chest where her power lies begs me to trust her, but I swallow down the urge.
“We should get going,” I say. “Before someone notices us wandering around.”
She gnaws on her lip and nods. “Right. Follow me.”
The tone in her voice digs into my sternum. She blinks, hard, and turns her back to me, dipping into the tree line. I follow in her footsteps, and we weave through the forest without saying a word.
It’s the same foot-worn path she led me through on the day I trained with Nicole. The branches have broken off—grown sideways from the times Kressa has passed through here.
From the times she’s visited Nicole.
I curl my hands into fists and brush off the oily sensation slipping between my ribs. That was before I knew her. Before my power and body laid claim over her as my bonded.
And yet, my throat thickens at the thought of her sharing a bed with anyone else.
“I can feel that,” she says, bending a rogue tree limb out of our way. “Even with the rhodium, I can taste your bitter jealousy on my tongue.” She glances over her shoulder, long enough for our gazes to meet. “What are you so jealous of, Briar?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “But why can’t I feel yours? Your emotions?”
She slows to a stop at the final rows of trees. “Someone once told me people have a habit of not looking at what’s right in front of them.”
That morning on the tower flashes through my mind. When I thought I might not live to see the sunset. “You don’t get to use my words against me. Not when I have the disadvantage of rhodium on my hands.”
She lifts my hand in hers, slipping off the glove enough for the night air to kiss my palm.
Leaning closer, she presses her lips to the center.
“I know you were thinking of me while you were wielding fire in Sarenia. The images down the bond were so clear, it was almost as if I was living them myself.”
“So why must I keep them on?”
“In case those images turn to nightmares.”
I tilt my head. “And why would they?”
“Because it seems the fates are going to force us together whether we like it or not. And I can’t promise your thoughts of me will remain so pleasant.”
I narrow my eyes. “The same goes for you.”
“I have no doubt about that.”
She studies my face as she pulls the glove back over my hand and shifts closer, our lips only inches apart. Only the gold in her eyes filters through the darkness of night, but her breath wafts across my jawline, traveling down the slope of my neck.
Her fingertips trail over my forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and she takes my hand. “Come on, it’s waiting for us.”
I furrow my brows. “What’s waiting for us?”
She doesn’t answer as she pulls me toward the clearing. The needles on the final fir trees scratch at my shoulders, and a chill snakes down my spine.
A figure stands in the center of the clearing, clad in long black robes—its sleeves hanging well past its fingers.
A Sopor.
My breath quickens, and I tighten my grip on Kressa’s hand, pulling her back into the safety of the forest. But her feet remain rooted to the spot, and she pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my middle.
“You’re safe with me.”
A wave of calm flows through the bond and washes over me, spreading across my skin. She gives me the barest hint of a smile and leads me toward the Sopor. It doesn’t make a move, not even a billow of its chest on a breath.
“To Amoren,” Kressa says.
The Sopor holds out a hand, the skin so tight it puckers around the gnarled knuckles.
It snaps a finger and my vision goes black.