Chapter Eight #2
Easing out of bed, I hurry into the bathing room and wash the horrors of the last few days and nights from my skin.
But like my invisible scars, they’re imprinted on me forever.
Every face, every plea, every scream, every sob.
The water sluices over my hated bracers, and I curse them over and over.
Even the simurgh inside of me has gone quiet, cowed into submission.
I no longer recognize myself.
When I’m dried and wrapped in a soft robe, I sit and accept the meal that has been delivered by the handmaidens. They all keep their eyes downcast and hurry out of the room.
The food smells delicious: flaky bread, creamy spinach, tender cuts of lamb.
But it all tastes of dust in my mouth. Accustomed to being alone, I eat methodically, simply to fuel my body.
Food is no longer a pleasure to savor; it’s a necessity.
If I ever get the opportunity to escape, I need to be strong to be able to take it.
A knock on the door makes me glance up.
“Enter,” I say, wondering if I’m being summoned by the king for more coerced theatrics.
“Lady Suraya?” a feminine voice asks before a head of glossy auburn hair pokes around the doorjamb. It should concern me that it’s relief I feel at the sight of Helena, but I’m so deprived of company that even my old nemesis is a welcome distraction. “Are you busy?”
“No, please come in. I’m nearly finished eating. And it’s Suraya.”
She enters slowly. She’s wearing an elegant formal ensemble that fits her lean, athletic frame like a glove.
The sheer emerald-green silk and jeweled stomacher complement her pale complexion, falling in delicate waves to the floor.
“Supper just ended in the dining room. I escaped after the last course before the dancing begins.”
My heart squeezes at the memory of the last ball and the dance Roshan and I had shared. It seems surreal, as if it had happened in a dream.
“There’s a ball?” I ask, my voice emerging like gravel, though if I’m being honest I have no desire to attend any court functions.
Helena nods as she sits on the edge of the sofa and folds her hands into her lap. “The aldermen from all the houses are here to celebrate the new peace agreement.”
I straighten with interest, hope blooming like a fragile flower that I might get to go home sooner rather than later. “Peace agreement?”
“One that covers local taxes, trading routes, and concessions for land, as well as how to address disputes without bloodshed,” she says. “And they’re discussing a courting ball.”
She ducks her face as if embarrassed, which doesn’t fool me in the least.
“Courting ball?” I echo, brows rising.
Helena’s cheeks go a disarming shade of pink. “Potential bridal propositions for marriage to the king . . . if yours is off the table. It’s political, you understand. The aldermen are insistent that the king needs to cement his position with the houses.”
I want to roll my eyes. If I had a gold coin every time an alderman thought something was good for the Imperial House, I would be a very rich woman.
They’re all angling to get one of their own on the throne and solidify their own positions, not that of the king.
Before I had any claim to Roshan, I’d been deeply aware of their political games.
Though as the Starkeeper none of them could belittle me on the matter of nobility of birth—I outrank them all.
But now . . . I suppose things are different.
Everyone must now know that the king and I are .
. . estranged. Perhaps even that I am little more than a glorified captive.
Gossip is coveted currency in the capital city.
Knowledge of my magical bracers and being locked in my bedchamber by the king himself would have reached every corner of Oryndhr, so no wonder the houses are scurrying to present a replacement future queen from one of their ranks.
In the past, I would have thought that Helena was telling me only to unsettle me or to drive a wedge between Roshan and me—but the king of Oryndhr has done that quite effectively on his own.
I’m so numb from all the betrayals that I feel nothing at Helena’s coy revelation.
No sorrow, no jealousy, no bitterness. I feel strangely hollow, but the king has never owed me anything beyond reciprocation of my feelings.
And the truth is, despite sharing his dreams of a future together, he’d never taken any formal steps toward a betrothal.
“That makes sense,” I say eventually.
Helena frowns as if she’d almost expected me to burst into sobs or rage and make a scene. But I merely tuck my feet up on the chair under my robe and continue to finish my meal.
“You’re not upset?” she asks.
“Why should I be?” I reply, chewing slowly. “Any king needs a strong queen with beneficial alliances to strengthen the realm.”
“But you’re the Starkeeper. You don’t need alliances. You have magic.”
I see Helena’s very curious gaze surreptitiously flick to my jādū bracers, and I push my plate to the side, folding my hands in my lap to hide the cursed things from view.
“I’m the king’s hand, that’s all.” I exhale and lean my head back, staring at the colorful mural painted on the ceiling.
I remember when I first came here how in awe I’d been.
Now I’d give anything to see the crimson-streaked desert skies of my home and the wood-beamed ceilings of my family’s tavern instead.
“When all the dust settles with the peace treaties between the houses, the security of the northern borders, and a queen in place to assure the succession of the royal line, I only want to return to my family.”
Helena shakes her head as though she doesn’t quite believe me, but then again, her ambitions are no surprise. First with Javed, and I suspect even now while she warms Aran’s bed, she plots for an elevated position in court with Roshan. Honestly, she’s welcome to him.
I ignore the slight pang that releases in my stomach and sigh, pressing my fingertips to my temples.
Wishing for something that has been lost serves little purpose.
Heartbreak is rarely survivable for extended periods, and sooner or later, time has a way of soothing all wounds, even the deepest ones.
“How have you been?” she ventures after a minute.
Her face is the picture of compassion, and I choose not to dwell on whether it’s contrived or not. The conversation—even with a pretty viper—is pleasant. Still, I want to laugh. It’s such an inane question, but I answer it with honesty. “I suppose I’ve had better days.”
“How can I help?”
With a wry look, I wave my arms. “Unless you have a way to get these off, I don’t think anyone can help.”
Helena is quiet for a moment. She opens her mouth, then shuts it. When she does it a second and third time, I raise a brow. “What? Spit it out.”
“What if I told you”—she glances at the closed door and lowers her voice—“that I could get you out of here? Out of Kaldari.”
My hopes soar and crash in the same breath. “I would say that’s a nice dream.”
Her eyes flash with a curious blend of emotions I can’t make sense of. Determination mixed with greed? Smugness with a hint of desperation? “No, it’s true. I befriended a runecaster, one of Aran’s trusted. He is the one who repairs any damage to the collar for the monster.”
“The monster?” I frown. “Oh, you mean the azdaha?” I lean forward. “So what?”
“I think he might be able to release your cuffs as well.”
I grimace at my wrists, squashing the infinitesimal flare of optimism. “Aran made these, and there’s no way he’ll help either of us. Trust me, no one else, not even another runecaster, will go against him or the king.”
“This one would,” she insists so strongly that I stare at her.
“Why are you suddenly so interested in helping me?” I ask. “My magic is bound. I can’t possibly be of any service to you.” My eyes narrow. “Still thinking of me as your competition to eliminate?”
“Of course not! I would never betray His Majesty like that!” she exclaims. “I suppose if you must know, I want to make amends for how I’ve treated you in the past.”
I can’t help my sarcastic laugh. Helena’s cheeks redden and her gaze darkens with anger as she jolts to her feet.
Guilt swamps me, considering she took it upon herself to visit me. “I apologize for any offense, Lady Helena,” I say as she reaches the door. “You’re just the last person I’d ever expect to be on my side.”
“Do you want to meet my friend or not?” she asks with a mollified sniff, her hand on the doorknob.
I consider my options. It’s not like I have anything to lose. At the very least, an escape attempt will show the king that he hasn’t broken me yet. I still have free will, even if it costs me a night or two locked in my chambers.
“Sure,” I say. “Why not?”
Her satisfied stare meets mine. “Very well. I’ll arrange it.”