Chapter 33
If anyone noticed the cloud of fog that arrived on the balcony to our room, they were quiet about it. No hysterical screams or accusations met us, so we hurried inside and locked the doors.
I wasn’t sure Kier had a plan. The best idea I had was holing ourselves up here and hoping Cleodora and Jyrard didn’t notice when they came to claim the castle.
“Shit. Kier, we can’t let them claim the castle. Or the city. What the hell were we thinking, running away?”
Kier’s hands caught my shoulders, his eyes meeting mine. “None of what is about to happen is your fault.”
“Kier—”
“Everything that happens—”
“You were fucking grieving,” I snapped, wrenching him into a bruising hug. “It’s not your fault the Haar was created, and it’s not your fault your brother’s going to use it against you because he’s a heartless piece of shit who never cared about anything except his own slimy ass.”
Kier’s laugh startled my rant into silence. “Done?”
“For now,” I allowed, leaning up to kiss him, too damn briefly. “We need to rip their story apart. To make it so obvious that they’re lying—”
“But they’re not, Zaba.”
“Yeah well, no one needs to know that,” I huffed, letting him go and striding towards the door. Fuck hiding, we needed to be proactive about this.
“I think I should tell them the truth.”
I paused with my fingers on the handle, a little premonition sliding like ice down my spine. “Kier, people either hate the Haar or fear it. Telling the truth will play right into Cleodora’s grubby little hands.”
“Trust me.”
My shoulders slumped. There was a chance people would understand; everyone in Lazankh was loyal to Kier, not Jyrard who spent all his time in the capital.
But how far would that loyalty extend? I remembered my first glimpse of Lazankh, riding into the city with Kier, the people smiling and calling his name, Kier like a god among them.
After long months of the Haar hammering the court, everyone was tired. Disillusioned and hopeless. They weren’t the same people I’d seen that day.
But I couldn’t refuse Kier when he asked for trust.
And if everything went wrong, Baby and Valour were close now, and my troupe would smuggle us to safety. It might even be romantic to be on the run with my husband.