Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Dahlia
Her hands trembled as she stared at the slumlord, her right hand clenching the blade’s hilt.
Snow swirled on the old wooden floor as they stared at each other.
“Come inside and close the door, will you? You’re letting all the heat out,” the Giver crooned. It was a command disguised as a suggestion.
She didn’t want to close the door. It was her only means of escape. Plus, she’d be shutting Loshika out.
Adder shifted in the simple high-backed wooden chair near the hearth. He reached out a hand and petted her mum’s hair almost lovingly, his many rings catching in the firelight. “See how she rocks? The poor thing is freezing.”
Lia used her boot to kick the door closed, her anxiety ratchetting up a notch as it clicked shut. Her cloak dripped water on the floor as she stood near the exit.
The Giver gestured to the chair across from him. “Don’t be a stranger. Come sit down. We’re old friends, you and I, and we have much to speak about.”
She glanced at the darkened back bedroom. Could there be another thug back there? It was possible and probable. Lia needed to tread carefully. The Giver’s ego could easily be bruised. She needed to keep calm and try get herself and her mum out alive.
Straightening, she shook her cloak out before taking careful steps toward the empty chair.
Lia rounded the simple seat and winced as she had to skirt around another puddle of silver blood.
Bile burned the back of her throat as she stepped over Alden’s still body.
She knelt, checking the healer’s pulse at his neck.
Nothing.
Grief welled up, but Lia shoved it down. She could mourn later. That’s if they survived.
Dahlia perched on the edge of the seat, noting how the Giver scoured her from head to toe, his black humanlike eyes pausing on the blade in her hand. He smiled so wide, she could see all of his teeth. Teeth that all had a slight point.
“It seems you have gained a bit more edge since your time in Loriia. Long gone is the flower who trembled every time she visited my office.”
She shrugged. “While you are terrifying, I have lived among the enemy. It’s taught me a great many things.”
Like how to kill.
“And yet, here you are. As soft for your family as ever. It’s really too bad your father abandoned you all.”
She hid her flinch when the Giver once again petted the top of her mum’s head.
Why was he bringing up her father? He had died, not left them.
Gibberish tumbled from her mum’s lips as she sat on the floor by Adder’s booted feet.
Dahlia hadn’t allowed herself to really look over her mother. She couldn’t get distracted.
“I’m curious what you’ll bargain with this time for their lives.”
Their lives? Dread skittered down her spine.
Keep calm.
Lia cut him a cool look. “Is that what we’re doing? Bargaining for lives?”
The Giver arched a black brow at her. “I believe we made a bargain once before, and you didn’t fulfill your side.”
“That’s not quite right, is it?” she murmured. “I paid back my debt to you, as well as followed through with our original bargain. It was you who sold me to the crown.”
He waved a hand at her, leaning back in his chair, the gawdy gold of his waistcoat flashing with the movement. “Old history. I speak of the kindness I offered to do for your brother.”
She remembered alright.
The Giver had offered to break Cosmos out of the queen’s dungeon, but it wasn’t out of the goodness of his black heart. No doubt he’d wanted her brother within his grasp, too, as a means to control Dahlia, but she’d struck first and made a bargain with Basil, the royals’ chamberlain.
“One I didn’t ask for but appreciate all the same,” she lied. The melted snow sank through her clothes, cold water seeping onto her skin.
“How prettily you lie,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. “What a treasure you are.” He cocked his head, the beads in his hair clinking together softly. “You’re cold. Why don’t you warm yourself by the fire?”
She was cold. In fact, her fingers were numb, barely holding onto the blade.
Standing slowly, she stepped over Alden’s form once more and slid her blade back into its sheath. The Giver had come to deal, not to kill. He wanted something from her. Plus, he was much more skilled with a blade than she was. He’d probably turn it against her before she’d be able to harm him.
Lia held her hands out to the flames, the Giver visible from the corner of her eye. “So, what do you want from me?”
“Straight to the point as ever. That is what I love about you, Dahlia. You’re practical. Any other woman would have wept at the sight of their mum on the floor, but not you. You hardly batted an eyelash at the half-breed’s body.”
“Halfling,” she corrected. How funny. The Giver was a “half-breed” as well. Yet he thought himself better than poor Alden.
Dahlia shrugged. “There’s no point in tears. What would it change other than to distort my view of you?”
A pleased rumble sounded from his chest, and the hair rose along her arms.
Careful. Don’t tempt the devil.
She eyed the bright coals near the tip of her boot. She peeked at the fire poker to her right from the corner of her eye. If she played her cards right, she could get both her mother and herself out of here.
“What do you want in exchange for my mother?” she asked, her voice sounding cold even to her own ears.
“As you know, I’m in the employ of our magnanimous monarchs.” His tone was dry. “They sent you to complete an impossible task, and yet you accomplished it and escaped the Glace Palace.” Admiration filled his voice.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as pain, guilt, and hate for herself rose to the surface. They’d made her a murderer.
You did that all by yourself.
“But you were never supposed to survive.”
A cold truth she’d suspected all along, but it was still hard to hear.
“You pose a problem for the monarchy. You hold too many secrets to live, and your death is beneficial, let’s say.”
“And yet I am still breathing,” she replied, opening her eyes. Lia shifted to the left so her right side faced the fire. The Giver had crossed his hands over his stomach and watched her with a crooked smile. “What do you want?”
He shook a finger at her. “Again, so smart. You’re one of my favorites, Dahlia.”
Not for long.
“War is coming.” He eyed her. “You do not look surprised.”
“I impersonated a princess for the monarchy, and they tasked me with assassinating the Loriian king.”
“And?”
She sighed and worked her jaw. “And after spending time in Loriia, I’ve come to the conclusion that the kingdom is unsettled.” There were too many shifty eyes and whispered conversations in hidden alcoves. And while she wasn’t a court lady, she could feel something brewing.
“King Neve was the last of his line. With his death, many cousins will be vying for the throne. Including your ladies in waiting.”
So Jekket had managed to get information to the Giver. Not surprising.
“Leaving the frost giants weak,” she supplied. Vulnerable to invasion. She edged her boot closer to the coals. Lia only had one chance to catch him unawares.
“Exactly. You, my sweet flower, have brought Loriia to its knees. An orphaned bard with no money to her name has single-handedly destroyed a kingdom.”
She felt sick. “Again, I ask you, what do you want with me?”
“While the monarchy believes your use to be over, I know better. War is profitable. There will be confusion in Loriia for these next few weeks as familial tribes grab for power. You can give me much-needed information, too, about the land, and even about the Glace Palace. Not many humans get to see it, much less live to speak about it.”
“And Jekket can’t give you that information?” she asked.
The Giver chuckled. “You were allowed much more freedom than he was.”
She stretched out her fingers and tried to calm her beating heart. “And what would I get in return? My mother’s life?”
“Nothing so crass. I would make you a very wealthy woman and . . . offer you a measure of protection.”
“How so?”
“The rest of Astera already believes you are dead. I can take a token back to my father that will make him believe it.”
She swallowed hard. “What do you mean, I’m believed to be dead?”
The Giver chuckled. “Haven’t you heard? The Loriians slaughtered the princess and left her body along the border. Our people are calling for justice on behalf of their beloved royal.”
Dahlia shook. They’d murdered some poor girl. “Why?”
“Power, wealth, land. Any number of things, really.”
“If I’m believed to be dead, then I no longer exist.”
He smirked. “I can see what you’re thinking.
You’re dead to the kingdom, not to the monarchs, dearest. There is no escape or liberation except through me.
If I claim that you are dead, they will believe me.
” He nodded toward her. “I just need your hair, my little flower. We’ll cut it off, and I’ll present it to the king as a trophy.
” The Giver frowned. “We’ll have to dye it, which is a shame, but it’s unavoidable, especially if you’re by my side. ”
Bile burned the back of her throat. “Even you can’t protect me from your father.”
He leaned forward in his chair, a dark glint in his gaze. “As my wife, I can.”
Never.
Dahlia kicked the coals at the Giver.