Chapter Nine
Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.
The moment I realize that Soren is Ronan, I’m completely, one hundred percent certain that I’m right.
Oh gods, what did I say to him?
My mind races back through our conversations, back through every thought and feeling I had near Soren.
Had he followed me from the palace? He must have, right? But then he already knew the boy, so he must have been there before. Maybe meeting the boy was the business he had in the city. The alleyway where he’d found me was near the palace, after all.
What was the boy doing for him then, really? Or any of the shadow-born? Why would he meet with them in disguise? Didn’t he have spies for that?
And the disguise. It had been so convincing. The injuries had been so real. They couldn’t possibly have been a mask or makeup. I’ve never seen anything that convincing in any traveling show or theatre, although admittedly, I haven’t seen many.
His hand was soft. It was soft when it was on my lips just moments ago. It was soft when he took my hand to lead me through the crowded market, when I took his hand to lead him from the mob that wanted to hang him for cheating at cards and declining a duel.
It looked scratched and scarred, but it was soft.
His light magic? Was his appearance a trick of the light?
And, oh gods, no wonder the boy was barely hurting when he healed him. He used light, not nature.
The warmth I’d felt near him. The safety despite every sign pointing to danger, the comfort.
That damned light magic got me again.
I’ve made it back to the door to the palace, but I hesitate. It may not always be unguarded. And what if this is the door he used? Where is he? He must be nearby.
He didn’t head in the direction of the palace. Maybe he did truly have someone he was meant to meet in the city.
I feel his eyes on me.
I turn to look, but no one is there.
This is terrible. What is he playing at? Did he spend the entire day with me because of my feelings when we met? Is he trying to get information out of me?
Had I offered him any?
I don’t think so. I’d talked a bit about Seth and Adria, but I didn’t tell him anything about our plans.
Was anything he said to me true?
I walk along the wall until I find a public entrance, the enormous iron gates hanging wide open and revealing a torchlit path up the hill to the palace.
There are guards at the gate, but one of them recognizes me from earlier.
“I got lost trying to find the baths,” I explain. “And then I went to the market to find a mask for the festival ball.”
“Did you find one?” the guard asks. I’m suspiciously lacking a box, I realize.
“No,” I say. “The vendor wouldn’t sell to me.”
“I know the man,” says the other guard. She’s a woman around my age with a pleasant smile. “Try Ibis Street. It’s on the way down to the docks.”
“Thank you, I will.”
I’m surprised by their kindness. I’m sure most of Ronan’s guards fought in the war, and I’d expected them to still hold a grudge against us. They must have been instructed to be accommodating.
As I walk through the labyrinthine palace corridors towards our rooms—or in the direction I think our rooms are in, I haven’t been this way and have to stop for directions twice—I realize that Ronan may not know that I know about his disguise.
That could be something. And the fact that he can disguise his appearance is something too. It’s a far more valuable piece of information than the location of his rooms or the hidden exit to the palace.
I also realize that Ronan was about to kiss me. What was his plan then? If he’d done so, surely I would have noticed that his face wasn’t scarred.
I doubt my conclusion for the first time.
The wink had been so much like Ronan’s though.
Same brown eye, same expression on his face, even under all the scarring.
His hair was concealed under his hat, but what I could see of it was brown, like Ronan’s.
Soren had a hunched back, and he walked with something of a limp, but the limp had all but vanished when we ran away from the gamblers.
If he’d straightened his back, he could’ve been as tall as Ronan.
And the muscles of his body, the muscles I’d felt when he was pressed against me.
I don’t even want to think about it.
I can’t be certain, although I feel somewhat certain, but even the possibility alone is worth warning the others about.
I’m almost back to our rooms when I hear Adria’s voice through the door.
“I told you. I told you she shouldn’t have come.”
I stop in my tracks. She’s talking about me.
“Adria—” begins Larus. His voice is a bit more muffled, further away.
“Don’t ‘Adria’ me. You know it as well as I do.”
“We’ll find her. She takes what you say seriously. She’s just doing what you asked her.”
Adria laughs. “As if she could. You know she’s just lost somewhere. She’s probably gotten on a boat and made it halfway back to Kalla by now. Or she’s lying in a ditch after running from a fight with a child.”
Rude. It was a teenager, and I didn’t run. I stabbed him.
“Enough. I think it’s been long enough. Cyrus must be back to his rooms by now—”
The door bursts open.
“Sylvie!” says Larus.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, where have you been?” says Adria.
“I went to the market,” I say, gesturing to them to let me inside.
“The market? You’ve been gone for six hours at the market?” Adria is fuming. I can practically smell the smoke coming off of her.
I tap my ear. The walls have ears here, remember?
“I found a tower,” I whisper once I’m close to one of the beds. “It’s promising. And I found a way outside. Unguarded.”
I thought they’d be impressed with me, and Larus is, at least. He pats me on the shoulder. “Well done.”
But Adria is still furious. “Six hours, and that’s all you have to say? I lied for you. I told Cyrus you weren’t well. Were you seen?”
“I came back in the north gate—”
“You came back in the gate? Past the guards? What did you tell them?”
“I told them I went to the market—”
“I told them you were sick in our room! Unbelievable. Fucking useless.”
Ouch.
I hate how much of me cares about what she says. She’s being unreasonable. She hasn’t even let me explain what happened. But I still hate to hear her disappointment.
“Adria, enough. Let her explain.”
“Did you find anything at all that could help us? Anything.” She’s not even whispering now.
I think about Soren and my suspicion that it’s Ronan in disguise, but what if I’m wrong? I know what she’ll say. I know how much she’ll mock me and how foolish I’ll feel.
I can’t tell her. Maybe I’ll tell Larus later, when we’re alone again. He would understand if I got it wrong. He would understand why I left at all.
Adria won’t. I’m certain of that.
“The door—” I begin.
“That’s it. You found a door outside, and it took you six hours, and now we’re going to have to find a way to account for the fact that you turned up at the gate, having spent the day at the market, after me telling everyone you were sick in our room.”
“You could say I felt better, but that I couldn’t find my way to the dining hall,” I offer. I flinch, waiting for her response.
“You know what? Sure. I’m sure they’ll believe you’re that stupid.”
Larus tries to talk to her, but she storms from the room, slamming the door behind her.
I look blankly at him. I feel something like tears at the corner of my eyes.
“You did good, kid,” he says softly. “She’ll see it one day.”
I won’t hold my breath.
In the morning, I put on the green dress Larus bought me. I’ve missed my chance to use it to make a good first impression, but maybe it will help smooth over any suspicions after my reaction yesterday or my absence last night.
The palace is buzzing with the arrivals of the rest of the court, the hallways filled with servants carrying enormous chests as the courtiers make their way to the throne room for Ronan’s opening address.
Our own lower houses, the ones that survived, were largely stripped of their lands and titles after the war, but the other Great Houses have arrived with all of their myriad lower houses in tow.
Between the heads of house, the spouses, the Guardians, the siblings, children, cousins, alchemists, and servants, there must be at least three hundred people in the throne room by the time we arrive.
The benches have been cleared away to make enough room for everyone.
As we take our place in the back, more than a few heads turn. We don’t have many friends in this room. The only reason we’re allowed to stand here at all is because of Adria’s surrender, the signing of the treaty, and our subsequent contrition.
I don’t blame the court for hating us. Our war cost all of them something, although it cost us the most. We have our work cut out for us. We won’t reveal our plans to anyone here, but the more of them we can make sympathetic to our cause, the better.
Ronan’s throne sits empty once more. I want to get a good look at him to see if I can find similarities between him and Soren while the memory is still fresh in my mind, but it’s hard to see from back here. I’ll slip forward once he enters, while everyone is paying attention to him alone.
A pair of trumpets plays a fanfare from behind the throne.
Grand Vizier Cyrus stands in front of it.
He speaks loudly and clearly, his voice echoing through the enormous chamber.
“Presenting, by the Grace of the Gods, Ronan III; Most High, Most Mighty, and Most Exalted God-King of Selara; Lord of Nithyria and Protector of the Realm; Sovereign of the Serath Desert and Master of the Palador Mountains; Keeper of the Sacred Light of Vayla; Guardian of the Eternal Oath; Commander of the Royal Orders of the Sun and the Moon; Defender of the Faith; Patron of the Alchemists’ Guild and High Arbiter of the Courts of Faros and Minar; Grand Master of the Radiant Legion; Warden of the Eastern Shores; and Champion of the Sacred Covenant that Binds the Kingdom and its Peoples. ”