Chapter 24 - Isi
ISI
Later that night, I paced the length of my chamber, counting silently with each step. Five strides from the hearth to the window. Five back to the bathing room door. Again. And again.
The castle had gone quiet—mostly. A few footsteps echoed now and then in the hall, guards on a late round, staff finishing their night’s work, or maybe even my friends. It wouldn’t surprise me if Derren and Lexie only used one room.
I was waiting for the lull, for the particular hush that fell between the end of one day and the beginning of the next. The stillness where secrets liked to hide.
Moonlight slid in through the tall windows, spilling silver across the stone floor and brushing against the edges of the bed, the wardrobe, and the chair in the corner below the muted torch.
I needed answers. Someone here knew what happened to Addie. Someone knew where the missing children had gone. And if I was careful, and I asked in a delicate way, I might get answers.
I’d be cautious. No accusations. No trembling voice or sharp-edged grief. Just a woman, clever and quiet, looking to understand her new home. That’s all anyone would see.
I stopped and pressed a hand to the wall, the cool stone grounding me. My magic stirred faintly, like smoke deep in my lungs, uneasy but listening. If only I knew how to use it.
Imagine, a woman who grew up in a kingdom where magic was not only forbidden but those who even hinted at having abilities were put to death, wishing to harness this power she should abhor.
Instead, I craved using it in a way I never had.
What happened to those taken to the reformatory? I wasn’t sure, and the few times I’d asked my father, he’d scowled at my questions, sternly telling me to forget about it. The children were fine. They’d be released back to their families once the magic had been driven out of them.
Answers like that had placated me when I was young. When I was older, I’d tried to enter the reformatory multiple times, only to be turned away.
And was more severely chastised by my father after.
Once the sounds died down to nothing and the stillness told me that even the bones of the building were fast asleep for the night, I fastened on my boots and cracked open my door. The corridor beyond yawned wide and empty, shadows stretching in dark ribbons across the tiles.
Castle halls were always different at night. Quieter, yes, but also heavier for some reason. As I slunk through the hallways, every stone seemed to watch me. The air felt full of whispers too soft to make out the words.
I kept to the inner corridors, keeping my steps light and quick, avoiding windows and torchlight as much as possible. I found the servants’ wing still. The library door locked.
Then I smelled bread. Warm, golden. A little sweet. The kitchen must lie ahead.
I slowed as I neared the cracked-open doorway, light spilling out across the dark floor. Hearing voices, I stopped and poked my nose into the crack and listened, trying to discover what I could.
The kitchen buzzed like a hive. Cooks and assistants moved from one counter to another, preparing food for the morning meal. Some stirred pots with spoons that floated on their own, others used magic to do other culinary tasks.
I held my breath, watching.
An older woman spun apples in the air, peeling their skins with a flick of her fingers while other ingredients stirred themselves in a bowl in front of her. Even the shadows felt softer in the kitchen light, curling under the worktables like sleeping cats.
They didn’t flaunt their magic. It was just there. As natural as reaching for a knife or brushing flour from a sleeve.
No fear or guilt or worry that someone would report them, that soldiers would come and take them away.
My magic stirred, uncertain, wary. It hadn’t felt quite like this back home. I’d sensed it shifting around even more since the bonding.
I swallowed hard, the scent of spices and sugar brushing the back of my throat.
Would I ever wield magic this easily and without shame? The idea made my chest ache, though I wasn’t sure if the feeling represented longing or loss.
“Just a bite of the elderfruit tart,” a deep, male voice said.
Trew?
I should back away.
Instead, I remained frozen. Listening.
“Alright, you’ve talked me into it,” he purred in an actual, real, not-snide tone. “Give it to me, and I’ll share my opinion.”
No question. It was Trew.
Funny how I’d recognize his voice even in my dreams. Now it came smooth and lazy, pulling tight under my skin no matter how many walls I hastily built between us.
I couldn’t see him; he was somewhere off to the right. And I almost poked my head fully through the opening to find out what he was doing inside the kitchen at this hour of the night.
“I knew I could convince you,” a woman said in a low, sultry tone. Sultry in a busy kitchen? What in all the fates were they doing? “Anything else I can tempt you with tonight, love?”
Fuck. They were lovers. I knew it. Tempt him tonight, huh? She was trying to lure him into her bed, to… Well, it wasn’t hard to imagine what might happen if someone found themselves in Trew’s bed.
Silken sheets. Bodies moving together. His hands and mouth everywhere. He’d kiss his way down her body and shoulder his way between her thighs and…
“Maybe one of those fellawhip crisps.”
Fruit. He was talking about fruit, not… I shook my head, trying to drive the image from my mind of this man kissing his way down my body, shouldering himself between my thighs, and…
If I were wise, I’d leave. Search a parlor or one of the upper floors of the castle. But a shameful part of me wanted to hear him laugh again, wanted to see what this version of him looked like, the one when he wasn’t a weapon pointed at my throat.
Every soft word he offered the woman sliced away at the harsh image I’d built of him. It left me bleeding with confusion, aching in places I didn’t want to name.
“A small one,” he teased. “If I eat too many, I’ll have to train for weeks or I’ll get fat.”
“Not you,” she scoffed. “You’re as fit today as you were when you were twenty.” She knew him much better than I did. This woman may not be trying to tempt him into her bed, but it was clear she adored him.
“You’re so good to me, sweetheart,” he said.
Her low, husky laugh rang out. “Aw, why wouldn’t I be?”
Irritation seared across my bones, diving up to tangle through my belly. I didn’t want him talking like that with anyone but me.
This was a side of him I hadn’t seen, and I was not only stunned but…sad? No, that wasn’t the right word. But this Trew was soft. Kind. Sweet, even. To staff. Not sneering or acting as if he didn’t have time to actually talk with the person.
“I’m not asking for the whole tray—yet.” Tender laughter spilled into his voice.
I shifted closer. Carefully, carefully. And I held my breath as I edged myself into the gap enough to see the entire kitchen.
He sat on a stool on the opposite side of an enormous wooden-topped island, lightly shadowed by shelves stacked with jars behind him. I wanted to smooth his mussed dark hair. Had he just gotten out of bed?
A round-cheeked and smiling and at least sixty-years-old cook, waved a wooden spoon at him.
“You say that every time,” she huffed, but her eyes twinkled. “And every time you leave with half the tray.”
“Isn’t that what you want?” Trew asked with purring indulgence. “To keep me coming back?” He took a bite of something golden and flaky, and closed his eyes, groaning.
Fates, that sound, like velvet sliding over gravel, pleasure-drunk and lazy. A sinful, delectable, spine-tingling sound. Did he groan like that when he touched someone he loved?
It was all I could do to keep my knees from melting.
Other cooks glanced over their shoulders at him, their gazes as equally indulgent as that of the chef.
He laughed with her like it was easy, like he wasn’t the man who’d pinned me with eyes sharp enough to gut me.
And the fates help me, but I didn’t only want his smile. I wanted the part of him who groaned over an elderfruit tart, who flirted with women twice his age.
“By the fates,” he said, an easy smile rising on his face. “Is that mist melon glaze?”
The cook beamed. “With cracked pine sugar on the crust. I knew you’d like it.”
“Like is such a small word. Love fits much better.” Trew leaned toward her. “Tell no one I said this, but I’d trade my right hand for another slice.”
“You won’t need to. I made a whole extra tart just for you.”
Easing out of the cracked-open doorway, I sagged against the wall, my heart tight in my chest. He spoke to her like he cared. I pressed my hands against the stone, cool and gritty under my skin and realer than the ache rising up my spine.
I couldn’t imagine him teasing me like that. And sadly enough, I wanted him to.
This man who laughed over tarts and leaned in close to share secrets with a cook might’ve killed my sister. I couldn’t afford to forget that.
But it was getting harder all the time to keep barriers around my heart. When these rebels were anonymous people, I could cling to my anger and hatred. Since I’d arrived, I’d made friends. I cared for many here already.
And I was conflicted.
Could these people outright murder my sister?
I should leave, search the place for clues about what happened to Addie. Or go back to my room and get some sleep. It had been a full day. A full several days. My body throbbed with exhaustion.
Yet nothing could drag me away.
I hovered by the door, barely breathing, one palm on the stone frame while I peered into the kitchen.
Voices echoed with warm laughter, and I could hear the clink of glass, the familiar sounds I might find in any kitchen.
If I left now, maybe I could search in a few parlors.
Sitting areas. Or track down Trew’s office. Do what I’d traveled so far to do.
I should go anywhere, not remain here, spying on the infuriating, much too appealing king.
His eyes snapped to meet mine.
I froze.
My every muscle stiffened, my lungs locking tight. Maybe if I didn’t blink and didn’t move, I could pretend I hadn’t been caught, pretend he hadn’t seen me.
A slow, terrible smile curved his full lips. “Stop spying and come inside, Isi. Join us.”
My name in his mouth felt too tender.
His eyes flashed molten gold in the kitchen light.
I’d been caught spying on a man I might one day have to kill. A man I couldn’t stop wanting.
I hadn’t meant for him to see me like this. But now I wasn’t sure I could unsee this side of him either.