Chapter 41 #2
“You want to go now?” Alaric asks. “In this weather?”
“The sooner the better. The sick are counting on us. We can’t let a little snow slow us down.”
Alaric blows out a breath and helps me gather the cuttings.
Every few minutes, I catch him looking between me and the bagrava with the same perplexed expression he wore during our dance at his coronation—and every time he’s visited me here.
I know he senses a shift, but he can’t pinpoint what it is because I’ve been careful not to say or do anything that would make him think I’ve lost faith in our plans—or each other.
As Alaric is packing the last of the bagrava cuttings into satchels, Delphine bustles into the solarium.
“What’s all this? Can I help?” She takes several packs from the pile near my feet, and I’m too surprised to stop her.
“What are you doing here?” I ask in a panic. “? I thought the queen mother needed your help preparing the ballroom for the gala tomorrow?”
I’m the one who whispered the idea in the queen’s ear, insisting she should host an event of her own, to personally prove her loyalty to her son over her husband.
It was absurd, given the coronation festivities just ended, but of course Queen Tessa jumped at the chance to host a party of her own and nodded eagerly at my suggestion to let Delphine help.
I needed to ensure she and the rest of the palace staff were busy and distracted.
Yet here she is, pulling another bag of bagrava over her shoulder and refusing to meet my eyes.
“Elodie offered to take over the party planning. She was very excited about some feathers she planned to use in the centerpieces.” Delphine rolls her eyes. “So I thought I’d see if I could be of use here. What exactly are we doing?” ”
“Great,” Alaric says, handing her another sack, “we’re going up to mountain to process this bagrava.”
“Which is really only a two-person job,” I interject.
Alaric’s brow crumples with confusion, but I pretend not to notice. Just as Delphine pretends not to notice my insistent stare.
She knows me so well. She must have suspected I’d have something planned. Something she can’t have anything to do with.
I can’t outright tell her she can’t come. It unfortunately, I can’t forbid her from coming, as it would instantly raise Alaric’s suspicion. So, even though I’m screaming on the inside, I have no choice but to swallow my frustration and follow them out of the palace.
Delphine leads the way up the frosty switchbacks, followed by Alaric, with me at the rear. I wanted to lead, but Delphine refused. I’m certain it’s to stop me from sending her away or demanding to know what she’s doing here, when I tried so hard to shield her from this part of my plan.
The wind is hellacious, stealing each breath as it ghosts from my lips. I’m shivering as much as I did when I first arrived on the mountain, despite being the only one wearing a cloak. I have a feeling I’d be shivering right now even if it was as scorching hot as summer on the Tomb Flats.
When we finally reach the caves, I set Alaric with the meticulous task of laying the bagrava cuttings out in an intricate, and wholly needless, pattern, while I snatch Delphine’s wrist and pull her to her knees beside me, so it looks like we’re discussing the satchels.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
I know you’re up to something, and I can’t let you do it by yourself,” she says resolutely.
“But what if something goes wrong? Who will care for Cloudia? It’s not too late to go back. I’ll think of an excuse.”
“Indira.” Delphine places her calloused hand over mine and looks me straight in the eyes. “I have to be here.”
The surge of love and gratitude I feel for her almost brings me to tears. Having her here complicates everything, and I hate that she’s putting herself at so much risk, but I’m undeniably grateful.
We get to work, helping Alaric spread the bagrava across the cave floor, conveniently sending him deeper and deeper, until the ceiling is too low to stand. Until there’s no escape—except through the rocks themselves.
Alaric brushes off his hands, looking across his handiwork with a pleased smile. “What’s next?” Before, I would have considered his enthusiasm endearing. Now, all I can see is the obvious pleasure he’s taking in this. How clever he thinks he is.
I dart a sideways glance at Delphine, and, together, we move forward, cornering Alaric in the narrowing space.
“Now, you’re going to tell me the truth about what happened to my sister,” I say, purposely grinding a purple bloom beneath my boot.
Alaric frowns at the ruined flower, then at me, sputtering with disbelief. “What are you doing? What are you talking about?”
I bend over and remove a knife from my boot—which I stole from dinner the night before—and level the blade at Alaric’s chest. “I’m going to give you one more opportunity to tell me the truth about what happened to Rowenna. What I do after that depends on your answer.”
A burst of incredulous laughter escapes him.
When I fail to lower the knife, an awkward silence settles between us.
“You’re serious?” He blinks at me with confusion and something akin to grief.
But I won’t fall for his sad-eyed act this time.
He clears his throat and folds his arms. “Why are you bringing this up again? You know I had nothing to do with Rowenna’s death. ”
I give a terse shake of my head. “I know nothing of the sort.”
He turns to Delphine. “Tell her she’s being ridiculous.” When Delphine says nothing, he laughs again, only now it’s bitter. Broken. “I’ve been honest from the start. I told you everything I know. I-I thought we we’re friends—allies. So much more than that.”
He looks directly at me as he says the last part, and waves of longing and loss roll through me. The knife wobbles in my grip.
“I know we love each other,” Alaric continues. “Or at least, I love you…” He pauses, clearly waiting for me to bare my feelings, but I don’t have any. Not anymore. My heart has been turned to stone just like the layers of sediment pressed together over thousands of years to form this mountain.
I shake my head. “You’ve only ever cared about what you can get from me. You used me to get rid of your father, win over the council, and get unfettered access to bagrava. You’re just like Soren. Worse, even! At least he didn’t pretend to love me.”
Alaric’s eyes are big and round with hurt—as if he’s actually capable of feeling emotions. “Where is this coming from? What in the name of the kings are you talking about?” His voice rises with each word. “I thought we moved past all this.”
“We only ‘moved past’ Ro’s death because you assumed the truth died with her, but I found this.” I hold out my hand and unfurl the chain, letting it dangle from my fingertips.
Alaric squints at the spinning platinum. “What does a chain have to do with anything?”
I step closer, hold the chain higher. “This is your chain, from the waistcoat you wore the day you murdered my sister. Rowenna siphoned the memory into the chain in her final moments. Then the garment was sent to Cloudia for repair after you returned to the palace. She accidentally discovered the truth.” I wave the chain again.
“Did Cloudia confront you about it? Is that the real reason she’s deathly ill?
Did you induce some kind of sickness to keep her silent? ”
“No!” Alaric shouts. “What are you talking about? I haven’t made anyone ill. That isn’t even possible. And Rowenna couldn’t have siphoned the memory of her death into that chain because I didn’t murder her. I’ve never even seen that chain!”
I prowl closer, both arms extended—one holding the chain, the other the knife. “Just because you don’t remember killing Rowenna, doesn’t mean you didn’t do it. We both know how easy it is to forget things on this mountain.”
Alaric vehemently shakes his head and steps back, but there’s nowhere to go.
The cave has grown so low and narrow, his arms easily span both walls, fingertips digging into the wet rock.
It occurs to me he could bring it all crashing down on our heads.
He could silence Delphine and me and these accusations forever, but the walls don’t tremble in the slightest.
Alaric lets out an exhausted sigh. “You know me, Indira. You know I’d never do any of that.”
His words slice through me like a dagger, because I did believe I knew him. And I thought he knew me—loved me, even.
“That’s not to say I don’t believe you,” Alaric hurries to add. “I’m not diminishing your experience—or what Cloudia believes she found,” he says to Delphine. “I have no doubt you’ve seen something terribly upsetting. But there has to be another explanation. I didn’t do this.”
“Then where did this memory come from?” I demand, waving the chain in his face.
Alaric reaches for it. “Let me see the memory, and we can figure that out.”
I snatch the chain back with a laugh. “Do you really think I’m going to hand over the only proof of your crime?”
“I haven’t committed a crime!” he bellows.
When I flinch, he does, too, holding his hands up as he looks between Delphine and me.
“If you don’t trust me with the memory, call it forth yourself.
At least let me see what you’re accusing me of and give me a chance to explain.
Cloudia is sick. Maybe the ‘memory’ is a hallucination. ”
“Like the ‘hallucination’ of a warehouse full of dying Vanzadorians?” Delphine retorts.
Alaric groans with frustration. “Someone is setting me up. It’s the only explanation. My father’s most loyal councilors are still reeling from his death. Maybe they planted a false memory to incriminate me and—”
“Have they planted false memories before?” I interrupt. “Is that even possible?”
“Not that I know of,” Alaric says miserably. “Look, I know I’ve made mistakes. I’m not claiming to be innocent by any means. But I do know I didn’t do that.” He gestures to the chain. “If you ever felt anything for me, Indira, please, let me see my supposed crime before you execute me for it.”
Alaric reaches out again, eyes locked with mine, willing me to coil the chain in his palm. And I almost do. The foolish, lovesick part of me still wants to believe this is just a terrible misunderstanding and everything we’ve said and felt and accomplished together was real.
But then I think of my sister’s face as the ledge crumbled, of her hands grasping wildly for purchase, and I lunge, slashing my blade toward the tender flesh of Alaric Alaverdi’s throat.