Chapter 23
T hey sank the ship this afternoon after looting it for anything valuable. Not in terms of wealth but information , anything that could possibly be used to advantage us. I didn’t stick around to see if they found anything, but according to Eldridge, they spent nothing shy of three hours searching through every compartment and finding nothing of interest.
“It’s almost as if Torin expected— knew —that we’d be searching it. Not a fucking paper out of place,” he continues, running his hand down his braided beard.
I’ve been pacing the grounds for hours, allowing the fresh air to cleanse the blood magic from my veins while I kept my distance from others. Eldridge excluded, of course. He has always been welcomed near me, no matter how vicious my temper sometimes finds itself, which he has assured me on multiple occasions, grows quite vicious indeed. I wasn’t surprised when he finally caught up with me pacing the gardens along the northern courtyard. It did surprise me however, when Ileana showed up, inserting herself into our conversation with ease. It isn’t that I wasn’t grateful for her company—I was elated, actually—just surprised.
“Perhaps not expected, but if he is truly a king in more than just title, then he would have prepared for the possibility of the vessel falling into our custody, and he would have curated what we would find,” she says.
“And you’re sure it was because of the shipping routes?” I push. When I stormed off the vessel, guilt quickly rushed in to replace my anger. Terrified that Torin’s seer—if she truly does exist—discovered our ruse, and their attack had nothing to do with Aegidale’s presence along the Maeva trade line, and everything to do with my scheming. A warning. A punishment .
“That’s what your betrothed and the pointy-eared fuck think anyway.”
“He has a name, Eldridge.”
“Which one, dearest? The one that locked you in your bedchamber like a naughty lass, or the one that tried to sacrifice you under a blood moon in the name of some make-believe nature spirit?”
“Vox and I are… working it out. I don’t trust him, just as neither of you should, but he’s a decent man. It isn’t his character I dislike—he’s infinitely loyal and tougher than steel, but it’s exactly that loyalty that concerns me. I doubt there is anything he wouldn’t do or sacrifice if his priestess asked it of him.” I blow out a breath and swing my now braided hair over my shoulder. “As for the other… I don’t exactly care what you call him right now.”
“A fucking bastard seems a?—”
“He had valid reason,” Ileana cuts him off. She is striking in a champagne-colored dress that drapes over her slender frame all the way to her ankles, open capelet sleeves fanning out around her and adding to the drama and presence she commands as the Black Hand. “I understand your anger, but do not pretend to be so thick in the head that you do not understand his too.”
I pause, turning and stepping around Eldridge to better look at her. “You believe him to be justified? Locking his betrothed in her bedchamber while he and the other men race into battle swinging their cocks around?”
There is no remorse in her expression when she steps forward to meet me. Light catches on her sharp cheekbones, highlighting her face in the warm fiery glow of the late afternoon sun. “Gods Wren, do you hear yourself when you speak, or have you grown immune to your own caterwauling? This is not just about you. It never has been. You agreed to play a role; you do not just get to abandon it whenever the urge to fight strikes you. The entire fate of the kingdom relies on Torin not finding out about you and him, and yet you cannot see past your own selfish desires to commit to the part you signed up to play.”
Her words stun me, but it does not stop rust from forming on my tongue, defense quickly rallying my collective as my body prepares to combat her, the blood magic still stirring in my veins, however unwelcomingly. “Wanting to ensure my family does not end up massacred in the name of some power-starved king is hardly a selfish desire,” I bite back. “Eldridge was nearly gutted in front of my eyes. Had I not been there—who would have protected him? I didn’t see you there, my Lady .”
My tone is out of line. Even as consort to the Black Art, Ileana is still the Black Hand, and she deserves my respect.
Her next words come out sharp as knives. “That is because I have the mind to know my place, and the wisdom to know when to adhere to it. I was where I was most needed, doing what I do best. I am not a fighter, Wren. There was a time I thought I could be, but I am not too proud to admit my strengths lie elsewhere, and that is in leadership.”
My retort spills from me before I can think better on it. “Your leadership almost got Eldridge killed.”
“ Eldridge almost got Eldridge killed,” she seethes, then to my surprise, spins on her heels to face the red-haired brute. “And trust me, it is not an error he will make again. Isn’t that right, pup ?” she says, her lips popping the final p .
“I thought I told you to quit calling me that, female,” he growls, but the sound is light-hearted, playful.
“When you want to act like a wolf, I’ll call you one. But a wolf does not sacrifice its pack out of stubbornness, does it, pup?”
“No need to yank me by the balls when I’ve already got my tail between my legs, eh?”
A slow smile blooms across her lips, and maybe it’s a reflection of the dimming sunlight, but I swear the faintest twinge of rose blooms in her brown cheeks. “If you wouldn’t have gotten your arm lopped off, then maybe you’d be able to yank your balls yourself, and I wouldn’t have to.”
Eldridge’s answering smile is pure light, and for a moment, I swear I see a flush of color in his face as well. “Ah, you’re right. You know, I really should have thought about that before I went and asked for my arm to be chopped off.”
“That’s why I’m in the position of power,” she says with a gentle shrug of her shoulders.
I look pointedly between them. “You two seem awfully… cozy.”
Ileana takes a step back at once, an audible scoff falling from her lips. That causes Eldridge’s grin to widen, creases folding the skin around his gray eyes—eyes that seem lighter as they look upon the Hand. “Oh, don’t act so repulsed. I see the way you look at me.” His tone is positively sinful as he winks at her, causing her hand to find her hip. For the first time, in well, ever , I watch as Ileana struggles to find a retort.
I’m watching them so closely that I don’t notice him approach, smelling him before I see him, and my entire stomach rolls in on itself as I turn my attention to the former Legion commander.
“Don’t flatter yourself, mate. This one looks at everyone like that, doesn’t she?” Cathal says, slinging one arm around Ileana’s shoulders and the other around Eldridge’s while directing his question to me.
Both of them rip out from under him at once, and I’m not sure whose snarl is more impressive: the one that comes from Eldridge’s beast, or the downright petrifying one that comes from the woman he captured, beat, and raped.
Cathal is, and always has been, the worst type of monster.
“Climb a fucking tree,” I spit.
Cathal’s lips purse, and his eyes scrunch in feigned offense. “Ouch. It seems a certain bloodthirsty witch has gotten her fill today. I’ll admit—I’m a smidgen jealous. I’m not used to seeing you filled with someone other than me.” His chastising chuckle at his double meaning sends my blood boiling, and I step towards him, but Ileana swiftly glides in front of me, squaring her shoulders to mine.
She’s about to say something. Her mouth parts, but then her lips linger there, unmoving. For a moment. Two. Three. Her eyes soften, just for a second, and then they harden to diamond. But something transpired in that shared second. An unspoken exchange, as if it took being near the man that tortured us both for us to finally see eye-to-eye. To feel the other’s suffering in our chest, the wounds that have long since scarred over but never fully healed. She says nothing as she turns and steps around Cathal.
“You ought to be thanking me,” he says to Eldridge. “She was a wild one when I took her in. But no horse is too wild to break. Not when you know how to ride them just right.”
Eldridge becomes an earthquake, his entire form trembling as he prepares to shift. But it’s not him my eyes lock on. Ileana turns slowly so she’s facing Cathal’s back, her shoulders dipping as she lowers herself for a moment, but I can’t see what she’s doing around the ex-commander’s form.
Cathal claps his hands, then rubs them together, ignoring Eldridge who is seconds away from transitioning. “Anyway, enjoy my sloppy seconds if you must. Actually, after the way my camp went through her, I suppose it’s sloppy thirds, fourths, fifths, sixt?—”
Ileana taps two delicate fingers on Cathal’s shoulder, promptly cutting him off. She speaks his name, her voice like rain on satin. Almost… sweet . Too sweet. Cathal turns to face her.
That’s when she plunges her blade deep into his throat.