Chapter 16
Sixteen
There weren’t enough windows to distract Iskra from her sorrows.
She had resorted to washing the neighboring shops’ windows just to keep her mind on the present instead of the painful past and the tragic future in front of her.
Even if her pruned hands told her she had done enough, she could still find another window to clean somewhere.
She must have looked like a rabid animal, because townspeople sidestepped her and avoided her gaze.
It was funny how just days before, she was with Jasyn, passing out desserts to them, yet now, they didn’t recognize her at all.
Though that wasn’t a fair assessment. Her hair was back to its auburn color, and she had been hiding her face by wearing a bonnet.
It was to protect against the sun, she told herself.
In reality, she feared someone would notice the similarities between the window washer and the prince’s betrothed.
She didn’t want to cause any more trouble for Jasyn and his family.
It was better to protect them from damaging rumblings in any way she could.
She heaved the bucket with dirty water and threw it out into the grassy field. Rubbing her aching back, Iskra headed back to the shop. It had been her routine the last few days: leave her cage, get water from the river, start cleaning, and return to the shop right before nightfall.
Just like clockwork, Kryth was outside the shop with his pipe in hand. She swatted away the smoke as she entered the shop, but Kryth grabbed her wrist.
“Your princeling is in Ogrod, visiting Lady Esi’s family,” he gloated. “He’s asking for her hand in marriage.”
“That seems like a wasteful trip. Her parents and the royal family have already decided their fates.” She hated the sting in her words. She was jealous of a reality that existed long before she ever met Jasyn.
Kryth noted her tone, though, because he smiled with malicious glee. “It’s a shame you won’t be here to witness the wedding. I’m sure the streets will be partying for days to celebrate.”
“Are you that confident he’ll kill me and get the Heart?”
Kryth took a puff of his pipe, and Iskra coughed as the smoke hit her nose.
“I never said the wedding between the current prince and her. Perhaps my nephew wins like he clearly needs. Either way, whoever is the victor will be marrying the lady.”
“If the victor is a she?”
“I have no doubts Lady Esi’s family could care less who is on that throne. They just want her as consort.”
Iskra wanted to rip Kryth’s throat, but she didn’t have the strength. “How could you force your own nephew to resort to gambling in order to pay you back for failing to keep your sister alive?”
Kryth didn’t seem shocked by the question. In fact, he avoided it at first, fully stepping back inside the shop. He tinkered with the glass bottles, making sure they were perfectly set on the shelves.
“She wanted to take this away from me.”
“The shop?”
Kryth nodded. “She hated the idea of me becoming minister. She said it would corrupt my mind, like it corrupted all ministers before me.”
“She had a point,” Iskra muttered under her breath, and Kryth didn’t seem impressed by her as he snapped his attention away from the opaque glass bottles.
“My sister didn’t understand the importance of my role, and the Gods cursed her for it,” Kryth explained. “Why would I have interfered with their judgement?”
Iskra shivered at his words. There was no remorse in the way he spoke. Kryth truly believed his sister—Bron’s mother—deserved her death.
“Have the Gods even shown you who wins?”
“My job as minister is to ensure I get a dragon in that cave with the Heart.”
“What good is having those Sight powers then?”
“They’re a guide. They beckon me to pick the right dragon for that year.
Like you.” He pointed the pipe at her. “I felt compelled to pick you this year. Perhaps it was to give Jasyn someone to fuck before he dies like his siblings.” Iskra growled, and Kryth smirked.
“I see those creaturely urges want to come out.”
“Don’t provoke me.”
Clearly, he would be doing the exact opposite. “Too bad you won’t be able to say your goodbyes. He returns from his travels the night before the Undertaking. I’ll already be transferring you to the cave by then.”
Iskra closed her eyes. Every day, she wanted to apologize to him, to run to the castle, get on her knees, and explain it all. It was better he didn’t know the full truth, though.
“Will you pass a letter to him if he comes out alive?” she asked.
He grabbed her chin. “For you, my Iskra, I will.”
Jasyn had his hands folded in his lap, looking out the carriage window.
The last few days had been a performance.
He had to act like he was joyful at the prospect of marrying Lady Esi in front of her family.
He had to act like he wasn’t terrified of the Undertaking tomorrow.
Hardest of all, he had to act like his heart hadn’t been ripped out and that he didn’t miss Iskra.
It was foolish to even allow his mind to wander to her.
His future wife was in front of him. He would marry her and be loyal to her while Esi could do whatever she pleased.
It was a promise he’d made to himself. A sacrifice owed in honor of his dead siblings.
“Can this move any faster?” Esi hit the roof of the carriage, as if that would quicken the pace.
“What is the rush?” he snapped, and he hated that he sounded so harsh.
He was angry she was the one who came up with the plan to have Iskra switch places with her, but he didn’t blame her.
It wasn’t like she had much of a choice in their engagement.
It was the reason he took this trip with her, to show his dedication and give her one last chance to back out.
Right before they left her parents’ home, he went down on one knee and proposed.
She said yes, but even then, he knew her heart was set on another.
Was that why she was in a rush? Perhaps Esi and Dominik had a midnight rendezvous planned.
“If we go any faster, we’ll crash into the trees,” Bron grumbled.
“I’ll save you if we do.” Mych smiled in response.
Bron side-eyed Mych and shook his head in exasperation. Mych didn’t seem deterred.
“Cheer up.” Mych tapped Bron’s foot with his own. “Once the Undertaking is over, we’ll officially be working together. Isn’t that an exciting prospect?”
Jasyn chuckled, if only to add some warmth to the chilly carriage.
“Are you confident your prince will even win?”
Mych crossed his arms, and for some reason, Jasyn anxiously anticipated his answer. It was rare for someone to openly talk about the possibility of Jasyn losing—or worse, dying. Too many people tried to push optimism. Jasyn needed reality.
“Jasyn is beyond equipped to win tomorrow.”
Bron stared down Jasyn intensely, and it caused a pit in his stomach. Something was off about him.
“We’ll see once tomorrow comes and Jasyn is faced with the dangers and twists of the Undertaking.” Bron smiled at him.
“We’re close!” Esi exclaimed as she clapped her hands.
Jasyn snuck a peek outside the window, where it was still daylight. They left a few hours earlier at Esi’s request.
They weren’t at the castle, though, and Esi was calling for the carriage to stop.
“What is happening?” Mych asked.
Jasyn would like to know too, but Esi was practically jumping outside the carriage and yanking on Jasyn’s arm to follow her.
He stumbled out, and he had to blink to adjust to the light.
“Where are we?”
“Hurry,” Esi only called back to him. He could hear Mych and Bron’s footsteps behind them, and Jasyn was very aware how he must look to the townspeople: frantic and confused. Not the image he was trying to exude, but he had to follow his future wife through the streets.
He caught up to Esi right as they turned a corner, and Jasyn’s heart stilled at the sight.
Iskra was there, sitting on the ground as she leaned against a shop wall.
Her knees were folded in so she had a place to set a parchment, and from this angle, he could clearly see her handwriting.
She was focused, her eyes narrowed in on whatever words she needed to let out.
It was painful to see her again. Her hair no longer matched Esi’s inky locks, instead a deep shade of brown-red.
In the sunlight, it almost looked like a dark flame.
Having both Esi and Iskra there made him wonder how he ever thought they were the same person.
Yes, when they had the same hair, their features were similar, but looking at Iskra was like being in a meadow of flowers.
It was overwhelming. Every inch was beautiful, and it was hard to focus on one thing.
Iskra’s nose sloped a bit higher than Esi’s.
Her freckles were more pronounced. The way she viewed the world was like seeing it for the first time.
She clearly wasn’t a well-traveled or experienced woman like Lady Esi.
Yet, the compulsion to get on his knees was still there.
He wanted to crawl to her, to cradle her in his arms. He had to fist his hands to stop himself.
“Why are we here?”
His words snapped Iskra’s attention to him, and her face blanched.
Esi pushed him forward slightly. “You owe yourself—owe each other—a goodbye. I have no doubts your promise to remain loyal to me is true, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have the chance to at least close this door so you can live in our marriage with a settled heart.”
Jasyn bit his tongue, wanting to yell that he didn’t need this right now, but Iskra had gotten up, and she was just staring and staring at him. He could read the regret on her face, could see the shaking of her hands gripping that parchment.
“Go,” Esi whispered.
Slone spare him, he did.
Iskra didn’t move from her spot. She was letting him control the scene. It only took him a few strides to be right in front of her, so close, she had to crane her neck slightly just to look at him.
He wanted to wrap his hand around the back of her neck, bring her close, kiss her until he was dizzy with the fill of her, until he forgot everything except for the way she made him feel.
He kept the small distance between them instead.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was weary, nervous.
He licked his teeth, hating that the words affected him. He should be unruffled. After all, this woman lied to him. Everything between them was a lie, and the time they shared meant nothing. She was playing a part.
“I understand if you want nothing from me, if you don’t want to hear a word from my mouth ever again.” She extended the paper towards him. “I wrote this. You can read or burn it. It’s your choice.”
He stared at the paper too long. Taking it was a choice. Ignoring it was one too. The paper was in his hands before he could even register he had taken it from her.
“You’re a good person, Jasyn. You’ll make a great king, one who is not blinded by desire.
Let your light shine so you can win this.
” She leaned forward with her arm out, slowly, giving him a moment to pull back.
He didn’t. Her hand was on his chest, right over his heart.
“You have taken my heart. Let it come alive. It is now only here to serve you.”
Jasyn narrowed his eyes. It sounded like she was swearing fealty, and it made him squirm. It wasn’t right. In the deepest pits of his heart, she was the woman in his bed each night.
“Thank you for everything, Iskra.”
They were the only words he could offer, but they conveyed exactly what he needed.
She had changed him in such a short time, given him the confidence and courage to believe if he won the crown, he could be a good ruler.
If he did win the Undertaking, he would be sure to come back here and thank her again.
“Iskra!” a voice yelled from inside one of the shops.
Iskra flinched, and it made him want to investigate the source of the noise. Who had caused Iskra such fear that she couldn’t take the sound of their voice?
As if she read his thoughts, she shook her head.
“I must go.” She curtsied in the slightly wobbly way she always did, another obvious differentiator between the two women. He would miss seeing it. “Good luck tomorrow, Prince Jasyn.”
He was left alone with nothing but a parchment and his soul ripped from his chest.