Chapter 21 Inside Out #2
As Bren and I prepared for the ball that evening, we both committed the message to memory, until we could each write it down again, word for word, then burned the papers so there was no chance of discovery.
My mind would not stop turning it over. Yet I was a cat chasing its tail—one conclusion naturally drawing the next question, but none ever clarifying anything before.
I kept landing at the same spot.
Why would they believe he hailed from Sierral, on his way to Draeventhall? What purpose did they think he served in that? And how did it relate to the merchant, and Akhane?
It wasn’t until we walked along the main corridor, towards the Banquet Hall, Bren’s hand resting lightly on my arm, that it hit me.
I stopped midstep, fighting to keep my expression blank as Bren turned to look at me in concern.
Several nobles nearby turned, curious about what might have made me stop so abruptly.
Bren opened her mouth, but I spoke over her quickly.
“No, no, of course you mustn't, dear. I will return you to the room and your bed—I wouldn’t ask it of you.” ‘I figured it out—we need to talk.’
Bren blinked, then took my cue and dropped her chin. “You are very kind, sir,” she said formally. “I have no wish to disappoint you.”
“We have many days of festivities ahead—many hours of joy still to come.”
I clamped my elbow tight against my side, pinning her arm to me and turned us both, steering her down the hall, away from the doors, as Bren kept one hand over her mouth and let her face crumple as if she felt unwell.
Many nobles, on their way to the banquet, watched us curiously—though only Lady Faye diverted from her path to stop us.
“Leaving? Have you received important orders?”
“No, no, my Lady Faye,” I said through my teeth. “Only Brennan suffers a headache—as a lady, you would understand, of course.”
“Of course,” she said, bowing her head graciously, though her eyes glinted, scanning Bren from head to toe as if looking for evidence of the lie.
“I will return when my lady is comfortable,” I said with a brisk bow, then tugged Bren along again, leaving the spluttering Lady Faye in our wake.
It was three more hallways and two sets of stairs before we were alone enough to risk conversing, even in the link.
‘It makes no sense,’ I sent. ‘If he really wanted them to believe he was on his way back to Draeventhall, he would have had to explain how he saw you. They know you’re here.’
Bren kept her face admirably blank, though I felt the jolt of nerves in her. ‘You’re right.’
‘I need to look at it again. Something… there’s something I can’t quite put my finger on.’
We picked up our pace until Bren was almost jogging to keep up with me when we finally made it back to our rooms.
I hurriedly wrote the message so I could analyze it more easily, while Bren undressed in case any servants came to check on the ill “Lady” Brennan, we reviewed every sentence of the missive, and I realized what sat so uneasily for me: It read like some of the reports that had confused me and the king.
The locations of power flipping and twisting—linking opposite sentiments, and standing in opposition to other reports.
‘He was always bad with letters and words. Is it possible he’s made mistakes?’ she asked.
I rubbed my chin. “No, he’s been reporting for months. If there were those kinds of problems they would have been identified before now. And he said his messages were always in code—”
I broke off, sucking in a breath as my mind sank back to that first night, the confrontation with Ruin in the Inn…
“Devastating, isn’t it, when people you trust turn out to be the enemy?” I snapped.
“I’m not the fucking enemy here.” Ruin’s jaw went tight, but he didn’t drop my gaze.
He leaned forward as far as the bonds would let him, eyes locked on mine.
“Just as I narrowed my investigation, just as I thought I had eyes on the right person and uncovered their links to Fyrehold, that same day I returned to my rooms, and my quarters had been searched.”
“How do you know? What did they find?”
“Only fake missives. Reports that were too far out of date to be of any use, and coded as well. But I kept them as bait with traps they wouldn’t notice so I’d know if I was searched…”
“He codes everything,” I whispered. “And he keeps fake reports… does he also send them? Is that why he sends so frequently and regularly? Because only some of the messages are real?”
Bren watched me, waiting as I paced, turning it all over in my mind.
Something still sat strangely, a memory on the edge of view, like a word I couldn’t find on the tip of my tongue… and then it came flooding back and I froze.
“I’m just passing through on my way back to Draeventhall—excuse me, Vosgaarde. I came from Draeventhall. But Vosgaarde is home. I’d heard that my comrades were here and I wished to see them. Especially the General, of course.”
“Donavyn? What is it?”
I stared. It couldn’t be that simple, surely? Surely he wouldn’t have tripped quite so obviously? But if he was truly thrown off his game…
“Donavyn… Donavyn!” Bren grabbed my chin, standing in front of where I sat, eyes worried and forehead lined.
“He’s reversing the locations,” I whispered.
She frowned. “What?”
‘The other night—when he first arrived. He tripped on his words—mixing up Draeventhall and Vosgaarde, and correcting himself. Do you remember? I was smug. I thought we’d unsettled him.
I thought he’d mentioned Draeventhall because it was on his mind after our confrontation. But what… what if that’s the code?’
‘The code?’
‘The kingdoms, their loyalties, are reversed,’ I hissed. Just like those muddying reports we used to receive in Vosgaarde that always twisted conflicts or pressures and turned the direction from which they came… ‘But is it a code simply to hide location? Or something deeper?’
I dropped the paper back to the table and stared up at Bren, who frowned at it from my side.
I shook my head. ‘This is… God, I wish I’d memorized those other reports we had—for months! There were so many like this, that seemed to flip locations or intentions when compared with others… now it makes sense.’
At least, to a point. Something about this made sense. But it was one puzzle piece clicking into place, in a sea of missing pieces.
I pushed to my feet and began to pace, turning details over in my mind, desperately trying to remember all the reports I’d received while still at home, each with this oddly shifting tone, and confusingly different take on events.
I wish I had memorized them. We never took reports out of the Keep, and burned any received in the field.
But now…
‘Is it only the locations? We need more. We need to find ways to get more of his reports—and to intercept any he receives in return. See how the statements change, which pieces are coded and which should be taken as read.’
Bren nodded, her eyes still on the parchment. ‘And we need to burn this.’
I turned back to look at her and it struck me…
Ruin had spoken to the queen about Bren.
It was difficult to discern what would be shifted in this message, and what wouldn’t.
This code, if it existed, was one I’d never been taught, and that in itself was startling if it was known to the queen.
I’d never trusted her motives, but she’d always trusted me, and seemed genuinely interested in helping Bren. And had, in fact, helped. Yet…
My head spun. I had no trouble believing Diaan would work against Bren.
But against Alexi? I couldn’t see it. The two were a force—no matter how their personal relationship might deviate from anything I’d choose.
They had stood at each other’s sides against other kingdoms, against pressure from war, against cultural norms…
He always brought her in to review any strategic plan he proposed.
And if the messages from the informants were going to her, only to be given to him, that would mean he was fine with outing Bren.
Then I slumped. Of course he was. I remembered his insistence to me when he’d secretly sent her to uncover enemy forces off our border. If she was discovered, it was no loss..
Whatever Alexi might see as her potential, he didn’t value it in the long term. She was not an asset he protected. She was a commodity to be used up.
God, I wanted to throttle my king, but I pushed the anger and personal affront back. He had always been pragmatic to a fault. But the question now was, what purpose did he believe Bren served? Alexi had always wanted her here.
That he trusted Ruin was no surprise.
Was Ruin the mole after all?
I muttered a curse. It was like trying to see through shifting fog—only tiny pieces visible at any given moment, and none fitting with the others.
I cast my mind back to that message Ruin had written and handed to Horace.
There’d been no title on the envelope, the network delivering it knew their purpose and target. It would be taken to the Palace in Vosgaarde and… and given to the Master of the House—the trusted servant who managed all the king and queen’s affairs.
He would, of course, rush the message to the queen the moment it was opened.
I was glad I’d rushed that message back out—we wanted Diann to get orders back to Ruin. But now I had a new problem.
I didn’t yet know who was key to this, or what they planned. But I knew this message would eventually end up in the king’s purvey—and he would see what I did. His eyes would be turned to Bren. With Diaan at his side to speak whatever scheme she had concocted, in his ear.
And without me to counter it with reason, when it came to Bren.
The conviction settled in my chest like a weight on my ribs.
I needed to send a message as well. As directly and swiftly back to Vosgaarde as possible.
But not to the queen.
Without a word, I tore at the buttons of my grand coat that I’d been about to wear to the banquet, hurrying across the room to my drawers to retrieve leathers.
“Donavyn, what—”
“I need to send a message. Immediately.”
“To who? About what? Have you figured something else out?”
“No,” I muttered grimly, tearing at my clothes to strip them. “And until I can, I need more eyes and ears here.”
She frowned. “For what?”
I met her gaze and braced, knowing she’d hear it all wrong, but it remained true, and I wouldn’t waver. “I need to get a message to your brothers. I need them here yesterday. And without the knowledge of anyone in Vosgaarde.”
“To do what?”
“To help us keep you safe, and uncover… whatever the fuck is going on here.”