Chapter 27
Hector was waiting for me at Void House, tendrils of shadow curling around his boots.
He stood beneath an archway wide enough for six horses to walk through, beyond which was a blackness so complete it made my head hurt.
Cold air wafted out from the room, and an answering shiver danced over my skin at the thought of the death that awaited.
“Kallen says your house grew again,” Hector said. He rarely opened conversations with bland pleasantries, just leapt into them like they’d already begun.
“It did.”
“It’s amazing how persuasive violence can be.” He grimaced. “My manners are abysmal. I should have begun by congratulating you on the fight—and on lasting longer than I did.”
“It wasn’t a fair fight.”
“There’s no such thing. If life was fair, we wouldn’t need to fight about it.”
“You sound like Kallen.”
He grunted. “Only in my wiser moments.” His hands were laced behind his back, and his toe tapped as he studied me. “Kallen says you can be trusted.” Hector didn’t seem entirely certain of that, though—there was tension in the tightening skin beside his eyes and the hard slash of his mouth.
“I would hope you already believe that,” I said, feeling flustered by the mention of Kallen’s good opinion, which I still wasn’t entirely sure how I’d earned. “Since we’re both on the council.”
“So is Drustan, and he can only be trusted while our goals are in alignment with his.” He tilted his head, as if conceding to an unspoken argument. “Though I suppose we all fight for our own ends first and everything else last. He’s just particularly annoying about it.”
“So long as his goal is the good of the realm, that isn’t the worst trait for a ruler to have.”
“It’s the secondary goals he doesn’t talk about that worry me.” He shook his head. “I wish you’d consider being more petty. You’re far too noble for the likes of the Fae. Some of that goodness might rub off, and then where will we be?”
Too noble for the Noble Fae—what a contradiction. I raised my brows, amused despite myself. “You don’t want to convince me of your own nobility?”
“Not like Drustan does. I want to convince you of my courage, my strength, and my fitness to be king. I don’t need you to compose heroic ballads about me.”
I looked down, hiding my smile. “I’m sure Drustan would love a ballad.”
It was rare to have a chance to speak alone with Hector, and I took a moment to study him.
He was as tall as Kallen but sturdier, though not as classically handsome.
He always seemed a moment away from leaping into action; even here in the quiet outside his own house he was shifting his weight, narrowed eyes skating over the surroundings as if searching for opponents hidden in the stonework. That, too, reminded me of Kallen.
“So, why are we meeting?” I asked him.
“Because you asked me for something.”
My breath caught. He was finally giving me what I wanted—an explanation of the crimes Drustan had alluded to.
The secret Kallen said he had risked everything for, the great unspoken tragedy of Hector’s past. “Very well,” I said, smoothing my hands down the front of my scarlet dress. “What would you like to show me?”
“It’s a short walk down the slope.”
“Let’s go.” I picked up my skirts and turned in that direction.
He fell into step beside me. “Drustan would’ve asked at least ten follow-up questions before allowing me to take him to an unknown location.”
“Yes, well, Drustan also has reason to distrust you. I have no desire for the crown, and since I’m the one who can give it to you, I suspect my safety isn’t in question.”
He made a huffing sound. “You’re right about that.”
“In fact,” I said as we headed down the ramp, “you’re probably in more danger than I am. If I had already decided to support Drustan, you might be at risk of an assassination.”
Perhaps it was foolish to say something like that, even in jest. But he laughed, sounding nearly as startled as Kallen did whenever I made him laugh.
“Trust me, if you had already chosen Drustan, I would’ve heard by now.
He would have sent trumpeters to my front door to alert me.
” He smirked. “I suspect you’re holding a grudge against him, no matter how noble you’re determined to be. ”
“Maybe.” Definitely. “But in the end, I do want what’s best for Mistei. Whatever my personal feelings may be about Drustan—or anyone else.”
“And that is ultimately the argument Kallen made. You want to do the right thing, not the easy thing.”
I felt warm all over. That was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said about me.
Why would Kallen tell him that? Why would Kallen even believe it?
Our odd connection—because I wasn’t sure how else to term the way we sought each other out, the stares across rooms, and the sparring lessons that left me breathless and unsettled—had begun with Kallen blackmailing me because he’d caught me cheating.
It hadn’t started because either of us were pure of heart.
The corridors here were more dimly lit than elsewhere in Mistei.
Rather than torches burning in sconces, illumination was provided by candles flickering in wall alcoves, both single black tapers and clusters of them in ornate candelabra.
The lighting allowed for more—and deeper—shadows, but it was oddly soothing.
Like midnights spent reading by candlelight, a golden glimmer barely keeping the night at bay.
Some of the metal candelabra were jagged and nonsensical, but others formed stunningly realistic shapes.
We passed one that resembled a miniature silver tree, with candles on every branch and a golden bird hidden in the leaves.
Looking at the knots in the wood and the delicate curl of the bird’s talons, I thought that Mistei’s greatest beauty was often found in its smallest details.
The path curved, then branched. Hector looked around, then raised his hand, sending shadows coiling around us. The darkness swept out in all directions before solidifying, blocking off the routes to this intersection. It was like being in a cocoon.
He clearly wanted to conceal our direction from any prying eyes. I reached out with my own magic, listening for heartbeats. “I don’t sense anyone,” I said.
He grunted. “It’s impossible to be too careful.
” Instead of taking the left- or right-hand path, he turned towards the wall and pressed his hand against it.
There was a clicking sound, and a door I hadn’t noticed swung open, revealing another candlelit hallway.
It was a short servants’ passage, lined with closets.
There were spots like this all over Mistei, concealed by doors that had been painted gray or covered with a thin layer of stonework—places for servants to grab cleaning supplies, spare linens, or cutlery and glassware for impromptu events.
Once we were inside and his shadows had come rushing back through the crack below the door, Hector pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked a closet. There were no shelves inside; instead, a staircase spiraled steeply down.
Where was he taking me? Curious and nervous, I followed him down the steps. The air clung heavy and damp to my skin, and the banister was carved with runes and rough faces.
“Is there a less steep way to get here?” I asked when we reached the bottom. The descent would have left my legs weary as a human.
“There’s a ramp, but it would have taken forever, and we’re both busy people.”
We were in a long, low room with a vaulted roof. It reminded me of the cellars that had once stored grain below Blood House. Shadowed alcoves lined the walls, some of which were empty and others of which held burlap bags, crates, or sheet-covered furniture.
Hector led me to an alcove where the shadows seemed deeper than normal. When he waved his hand, they parted like clouds after the rain, revealing a door with a ring knocker. He stared at it for a long moment, then looked at me, as if second-guessing the decision to bring me here.
Then he sighed, gripped the knocker, and rapped it five times.
“I need you to know how serious this is,” he said as we waited. His hand twitched like he was imagining gripping the hilt of his sword. “We’re trusting you with a matter of life and death.”
A shiver worked down my spine. “Who is we? You and Kallen?”
His jaw clenched. “And Una. Her most of all.”
What did that mean? The mystery was killing me.
The door opened, revealing a Void sprite.
His skin was reminiscent of the velvet dark of midnight, and his eyes were pure black, too, with no whites to be seen.
When he saw Hector, stars sparkled to life in that dark gaze.
He bowed. “My prince.” Uncertainty flashed across his features as he looked at me. “You have brought a guest?”
“Yes,” Hector said. “A guest who knows better than to speak a word of what she sees here.” He gave me a hard look.
I was feeling even more nervous now. What could possibly be behind that door? “I won’t. I promise.”
The sprite studied me, eyes still sparkling. I wondered if he was reading my hidden desires, the way Aidan could. Not the exact direction of my thoughts, but the shape of my wishes and intentions. Then he bowed to me, eyes growing smooth as obsidian once more. “Princess Kenna. Welcome.”
We entered a corridor, and the door clanged shut behind us. The sprite resumed his position in a small guard room off the entrance.