Chapter 20 #2
And just like that, it’s suddenly ten years ago, and we’re just two boys conspiring to break into Sorsha Hall’s confectionery to steal honeycakes.
Slowly, I unburden the heaviness on my chest to him. Cautiously. Carefully. Being incredibly fucking selective about what details I give him about Volkany and Vale and the fae, knowing full well he’ll use them to his own advantage if he can.
The trick with Rian is, he’ll always do what’s best for himself. But if you can hitch yourself to his goal, then you can benefit from his self-preservation instinct.
The lantern flickers steadily over his wide eyes, hungry to drink in everything I have to say. And damn, if a part of this doesn’t feel good. To be like this again. Even on opposite sides of the bars.
I’ve…missed him.
Fuck me, but it’s true.
“So that’s it,” I say, letting out a heavy sigh. “Vale sent us here to win the throne and prepare Astagnon for the gods’ arrival.”
“That’s it?” Rian throws his hands in the air. “What about Sabine? You left out the part where she’s a fucking goddess!”
“I told you how it worked. Vale killed her human body, which awakened the goddess inside.”
“I’m not talking about the fucking logistics. What does it mean for us—for the world—that she’s one of those self-interested tyrants?”
The muscles along my back bristle. “Sabine is different.”
“Do you hear yourself? She’s fae. She isn’t different at all.”
“No.” My voice hardens enough to make Rian flinch. He falls silent, waiting, watching. When we were boys, I never raised my voice to him. Always let him take the lead. But things have changed. “No, she’s still Sabine and always will be. She cares about humanity. She wants to fight for us.”
Rian busies himself brushing dust off the bars, waiting until I’ve stopped pacing.
He lifts an eyebrow. “You didn’t grow up attending Red Church classes every Sunday, and it shows.
Immortal Solene is the guardian of nature.
That sounds positively bucolic, doesn’t it?
And sure, that includes dandelions and butterflies, but it’s also fucking lava. It’s earthquakes. It’s monoceroses.”
“It’s humans, too,” I snap.
He laughs, shaking his head. “You know how humans fit into nature? We destroy it.”
I open my mouth to argue but snap it closed again. All I can think of is the murals in Drahallen Hall’s basement. The ones painted over to hide the truth.
What Rian says…it hits too close to home.
My head jerks at a sound—footsteps on the floor beneath us. A jangling key ring.
We don’t have long before we’ll have company.
I grab a bar, leaning in. “What did your Red Church classes tell you about the fall of Calisyrune?”
Rian frowns, surprised by the question. “The ancient city? What do you want to know?”
“Why it fell.”
Rian’s mouth curves in a slow smile as he gently taps the bruise on his temple. “Ah. That information isn’t shared with children in Red Church classes, but the Valveres have a lot of access to old information. I’ll tell you all about what happened to Calisyrune—over a bottle of whisky.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. It’s just so fucking Rian. His life is on the line, the kingdom is in jeopardy, but he holds out for a drink.
“Let me guess,” Rian says. “Sabine blinks those sweet doe eyes and swears she’s loyal to humanity, then blasts someone with brimfire the next moment?”
The words drip with smugness—but they also ring with truth.
I wince.
Basten, just walk away. Let Rian rot. The friendship is over.
But I find myself saying, “I can keep her under control.” There’s a forcefulness to my voice that pushes a little too hard.
Rian stares at me for the space of several breaths, then slowly shakes his head. He chuckles, which rolls into a full-bodied laugh, stoking my ire, until he doubles over in coughs.
That’s a little satisfying.
The attic stairs groan under someone’s soft footsteps, and soon, Lady Suri joins us in the narrow attic. She wears a dressing robe over her nightshift, belted tightly against the chill. Her face is unadorned, her hair wrapped in ribbons for tomorrow’s curls.
She holds a lantern in one hand and her jangling key ring in the other.
“Basten? Sabine told me to come. It was all very mysterious. She said it couldn’t wait until the morning. That you need the old attic cell key….oh!”
Her lantern swings wide as she steps into the corridor, the beam slicing through the shadows—
—and landing square on Rian’s face.
Suri jumps. “What the fuck?” she blurts, then claps a ladylike hand over her mouth to banish the curse.
Rian moves instantly, rising from his crouch behind the bars with unsettling grace. Despite the bruises blotching his face, the split lip, and the swelling around one eye, his smile blooms.
“Well, well,” he drawls. “Lady Suri. What an utter delight. I was worried they’d send some square-shouldered guard with bad breath. But instead…” He rests his bruised knuckles against the bars, eyes glittering. “I get you. Pretty and profane. I’m touched.”
Suri flushes—not deep, just a bloom of heat over her brown cheeks. Her hand goes to her curls, patting down a flyaway ribbon almost unconsciously.
She recovers fast, though, jaw setting hard.
She strides right up to the bars and smacks his injured hand hard with the iron key.
Rian hisses through his teeth, jerking his hand back with a muttered curse. But his grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it widens.
“You ass,” Suri snaps. She shoves the key into the lock and twists, locking him in. “It will be my pleasure watching you wither behind these bars.”
“Pleasure?” Rian says, dark and amused. “Careful. You’ll get my hopes up.”
Suri scoffs, disgusted, and turns away, lantern light throwing her shadow long across the stone as she strides back down the stairs.
“Basten,” she calls over her shoulder, “I’m going to need a serious pay raise to deal with this.”