Chapter 60
Kaelis grabs two heavy, hooded cloaks from the coat check. I’m not sure if he brought both of them, planning this, or if he just demanded two cloaks and they knew better than to object to the prince. Either explanation seems plausible.
The night air is crisp with the promise of a frigid winter to come. I tug the hood up, less to conceal and more to chase away the chill. Kaelis’s steps are unhurried next to me as we wander the backstreets of Eclipse City.
“I’m surprised you’re cold,” he says. Clearly he has no interest in telling me where we’re going, and I have no interest in giving him the satisfaction of asking. Already this feels like a game.
“And why is that?”
“Because my current theory is that you have molten metal for blood,” he says without so much as a glance my way.
“Excuse me?” I tilt my head and angle my steps to get a better look at his face.
“Given that just sleeping next to you has me waking up drenched in sweat, I’m fairly sure all that rage you keep wound up has your blood boiling every minute of the day.”
“Maybe my blood wouldn’t be boiling if not for your family constantly trying to kill me and those I love,” I say placidly.
“Half family. More or less.” He jokes so easily about one of his deepest secrets that I’m immediately caught off guard. “And can they even count if I’m actively trying to kill them all?”
“So brazen with talk of treason.” I make it a point to glance around, even though the alleyways are empty.
“Is it off-putting?” Kaelis seems genuinely concerned. But there’s a playful glint to his eye when he says, “And here I was trying to flirt with you.”
I snort.
“Was it working?”
“Maybe.”
We round a corner and step onto the main street. Set back from the road is Ravin’s manor, and neither of us says anything as we pass. I choose to focus on the decorations already out for All Coins Day tomorrow.
Pennons flutter in the nighttime breezes. Strings of lanterns aid streetlights. The main square already has stalls set up and waiting for students.
We turn a corner among the rows of empty stalls, and Kaelis slows slightly; that’s how I notice he’s actively scanning the rows of wooden stalls with a gaze too deliberate to be casual.
“Looking for something?” I ask.
“Already found it.” We come to a stop.
It looks just like any other stall. Then my gaze lands on the corner of the wooden table, and it all clicks into place.
I rest my fingers on the broken edge that’s been smoothed over with time. Jura stood here. The thought of her still stings with sweet pain.
“This was my stall last year…” It brings back memories of the plan I concocted with my crew.
Of the king. The fight. I knew so very little then.
I look to Kaelis; the hood hides his hair and shadows his eyes.
Yet, somehow, they seem to gleam like the thousands of stars that arc above us.
“Wait, you knew it was mine. How? You weren’t there. ”
“Just because you didn’t see me doesn’t mean I wasn’t there,” he says.
“But I thought…The plan was that you’d stay away so your father didn’t grow suspicious of the connection between us.”
“And he was none the wiser.” Kaelis leans against the front of the stall, hands resting on it.
The cloak splits slightly in the front, pooling on either side around his lean form.
I can already picture the frame underneath.
My fingertips know his every outline. “You didn’t really think I was going to let you do that completely alone, did you? ”
“I did think it at the time.” I run my hand along the split edge. “But now…” Knowing what I know now. “The king recognized me then.”
“I wasn’t sure how my father would react when confronted with you—the woman who would replace his queen,” Kaelis says lightly, but there’s a touch of murderousness in his eyes as he stares ahead at nothing.
The idea that Naethor once allowed me to be near his son at all is possibly the most confounding thing.
But he did say to Prince Belen that he’d hoped having me would quell Kaelis’s ambitions some.
Maybe Naethor really thought that Kaelis could have me—just not the crown and me—and that would be enough for him.
Or perhaps it was to spite his son by allowing him me as a reminder of all the other things he couldn’t have.
Either seems possible, and the longer I think on the motivations of Oricalis men, the murkier they become.
Black silk brushes against the side of my hand, jolting me from my thoughts. Kaelis holds out a bundle to me, and I know instantly what’s inside the silken pouch. My eyes run up his arm to meet his, my question unsaid.
Though he hears it, because he answers. “Is it not the tradition of All Coins Day to gift one’s abundance to others? To share one’s skill in service to the community?”
“Am I ‘the community’ now?”
“You’re my community.” He shifts, the raw sincerity of his words clearly making him uncomfortable. “You’re all I have, really.”
“You have Priss.”
“You are a much better conversationalist.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that.” I grin.
Kaelis sighs dramatically. “Are you going to take it or not?”
I open the bag, and I’m met by exactly what I expected: a deck. One of exceptional quality and craftsmanship. One inked entirely by him.
“I know that you are one of the most talented inkers alive,” he says softly, almost shyly.
“But…when I saw you take down Halazar with a deck I gave you. When I felt like I could give you power. It was infectious. Addictive. I might not always be by your side to protect you. But in a way, perhaps I can be.”
“It’s magnificent.” My own voice has dropped to a hush as I fan out the cards on the table, admiring his inking. Each one is a work of art. Utterly stunning in detail and accuracy. It’s even better than the last deck he gave me. “How long did this take you?”
“A few months.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“It’s perfect.” As I stare at the cards, I realize that it has been years since I last received a present on All Coins Day.
That no one, ever, has gifted me a complete deck before him, and he does it like it’s nothing.
The money he spent on it and the time he spent to make it were both well beyond the reach of anyone in my life before.
My fingertips settle on the Prince of Swords, and my eyes drag back to him: to my own Prince of Swords. My whole body aches. It’s as though my soul is suddenly too large for my frame.
“I’ve something for you,” I say without so much as a thought.
“Do you?” His brows lift.
“Follow me.” I take his hand, and our fingers lace instantly, as though on instinct.
I guide him through the city streets, down the back alleys and crumbling staircases that I could traverse in my sleep to Rot Hollow. Most of the houses we pass in Rat Town on the way are just as I remember. Though, as we continue to descend, I see some have fallen further into disrepair.
But then we reach Rot Hollow, whose poverty is unlike anything else in Eclipse City.
Here the buildings are barely standing: They’ve been built haphazardly to squeeze in extra living space wherever possible, alleyways walled by additional shelters to the left, right, and above.
A few people loiter, even at this hour, and they regard us with wary eyes.
If anyone looked too closely, even our cloaks would make us stand out, the heavy wool a stark contrast to their cotton and threadbare wool.
Kaelis surprises me by saying nothing. There’s no remark on the conditions in Rat Town. Nor does he ask any questions, even though I’m sure he has many. Maybe he knows enough about me already that he knows we’ll come to a stop before a certain three-story building well before we actually do.
The first floor is halfway swallowed by the ground, with only its horizontal windows peeking up just above the curb.
A stairway has been carved into the rocky earth that leads to a partially subterranean basement door.
The second floor is a few steps up from the road.
The third is accessed by a ladder…always was.
No one ever bothered to construct stairs. With what money would that ever happen?
But I don’t look at the whole building. I focus on the narrow window that’s still shattered. A thin cloth has been pulled over it, and barely, barely, I can hear words from within, just beyond the flickering candle on the sill.
And also a child’s soft laughter, though I’m not sure if I’m imagining it.
“This was my home.” Four words and the night becomes so still. Kaelis’s fingers tighten against mine.
Who lives here now? I desperately both do and do not want to know the answer to that question.
“My sister and I were illegitimate children”—as I’ve come to learn—“and so my father never came around—in fact, my mother ran away from him, and that’s how we ended up here.”
I’ve spent so little time thinking of the truth of my parentage with all that’s happened. One of the last things I asked Bristara suddenly returns to me in force.
Am I a Clan Tower bastard?
Did Mother even love my father? Or was she some kind of hostage, brutalized and abused? I shudder, and Kaelis shifts closer to me. Clan Tower was hunting her down on Naethor’s orders; there would be no way she would willingly…
I turn away and inhale slowly through my nose, afraid that if I breathe through my mouth, I’ll be sick.
“She loved us,” I finally say, for myself and him. I drag my eyes back to that little hovel—what was once my whole world. “And she did all she could for us.”
“That’s all that matters.” He’s clearly trying to be reassuring. But there’s also a note of longing in his voice for the mother he never knew.
“I didn’t take you here just to show you this, though.” Forcing myself to move is harder than I would’ve thought. I haven’t come back here in years. The last time I was here, Arina and I were girls fleeing from the enforcers.
The thought has me looking over my shoulder, scanning the refuse-lined passageways and nooks for any who might still be hunting me.