Chapter Thirty-Three
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Her wrists and ankles were a mess of blackened flesh. The cell stank of blood, rot, and bodily fluids. But Sarai couldn’t bring herself to care. She finally knew the truth.
She doesn’t matter, so long as I get to Aelius.
She leaned against the bars and listened for movement in the adjoining cell. He was there, but he hadn’t said a word since they’d been thrown in here. She drew her knees tighter against her chest, only vaguely able to recall the chaos that had ensued after Kadra’s revelation.
Aelius laughing. Kadra hoarsely begging her to breathe. Cisuré dropping the blade, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. It had abruptly winked out at Aelius’s next words.
“Lock them up.”
Oh, how Cisuré’s jaw had dropped then. The pleas had begun. Hadn’t she brought Kadra to him, as promised? Had he agreed that Sarai would be spared?
Divorced from her body, Sarai had dispassionately watched Aelius shrug ruefully.
“I’m sorry, my dear. But she’s as much a part of this as he is.”
And then, for the sheer amusement of it, he’d beaten Kadra bloody before his vigiles carted Sarai away.
She eyed the flickering candle stub by their cells, dreading what would happen when it went out and left them at the rodents’ mercy .
She’d considered escape for the first minute of her imprisonment, before spotting the thin ropes of lightning crossing the arched entryway into their cellblock. That avenue closed, she steadied her fingers against the brick wall, pouring magic into the lesions around her wrists and ankles. Some healed. Some didn’t.
Drained of energy and magic, she cast a glance at the wall between their cells. He still hadn’t made a sound.
She took a deep breath. “Why did you do it?”
A long silence. Then the sound of shifting. “At the time, I thought the girl was too far gone. Getting Aelius seemed the better choice.” Kadra inhaled roughly. “But he was already gone when I reached his ballroom.”
The confirmation cut her, but she couldn’t help the tears that sprung to her eyes at his voice. So strained, as though even breathing was difficult for him.
“Afterward, I went back. Just in case.” His words were slurred, speech evidently painful. “She and Othus were gone.” He made a hoarse sound. “He said she’d died moments after I left.”
Sarai closed her eyes. “He thought you did it.”
“Didn’t I?” His voice was bitter. “Either way, it gave Aelius all the leverage he needed over Othus. Not that he was ever good at following orders. Hence, his death.”
And you felt responsible for it all .
She’d hoped that he’d been her savior. A man who’d ordered her to be patched up after the Fall, however callously. But if Othus hadn’t been there I’d be dead.
“You could have saved her,” she whispered hoarsely. “And you didn’t.”
“I know.” There was a world of grief and self-loathing in his words. “I crossed that line knowingly. And I can never forget.”
She remembered the words below the ribbon in his bedroom. Her ribbon .
He didn’t ask for absolution, and it hurt even worse than if he had, knowing that he had kept that ribbon for four years. Reliving that night every time he saw it.
“Gods!” she choked, crawling to the wall as if she could somehow reach through it and touch him.
She heard him do the same, a groan tearing from him as he settled against it.
“I couldn’t attack Aelius and Tullus.” He coughed, an ugly gurgle. “Not directly. They would have won. So I waited for years. For someone to emerge. Someone with whom at least a fraction of the land would be safe.”
She couldn’t comprehend any of it.
“They’ll try me for murder tomorrow,” he said quietly. “You know what that means.”
She hadn’t thought of the future. Hadn’t been able to conceive it. “You’re powerful. They can’t force you into a Summoning—”
“I expected it,” he admitted, eerily calm. “I’ve done my damned best to ensure it.”
Reckless , Anek and Cassandane had said. Uncharacteristically reckless.
“What are you saying?” she demanded hoarsely.
“I’ve killed one.” He coughed again, the rattle in his chest terrifying her. “Tomorrow, during the Summoning, I’ll take the other with me. And everyone involved in her death will be gone.”
She rose in a rush. “That’s enough. This isn’t like you.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “My seat will be yours.”
Realization struck like lightning. It had all been for the Sidran Tower Girl. He’d broken his code and gone to war for her, fighting them all out of guilt and rage for four years. Risked his life, his career, for the unnamed girl he’d left dying. And he didn’t know it, but he was attempting to give that same girl his legacy.
She buried her head in her hands and sobbed brokenly for the years they’d both wasted .
“My Sarai,” he whispered as she wept. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
A door clicked shut in the distance and she involuntarily tensed as light footsteps approached. She knew who it was even before golden hair caught the candlelight.
“I’ve convinced Tetrarch Aelius to pardon you,” Cisuré said without preamble. “Just pin it all on him tomorrow and you’ll walk free.”
Sarai stared at the wall.
“I warned you this would end badly,” Cisuré bit out. “For once in your life, just do as you’re told, and you’ll be saved.”
Sarai wiped her wet cheeks, pondering the ends of her ruined braid.
Cisuré kicked the bars. “Say something!”
“I’m surprised you’re still fawning over him.” Sarai refused to turn to her. “He didn’t think twice about breaking his word to you. You don’t know what he’s done.”
“You know what Kadra’s done.” Cisuré’s voice was venom. “Are you as gormless as the people of his Quarter to forgive it?”
“His people aren’t brainwashed.” Sarai faced her. “They’re relieved. Because life is hard, and cruel, and they have a Tetrarch who will fight for them. I’m not surprised that you don’t understand that.”
“The victim returns.” Cisuré sneered. “I’ve done everything I can for you!”
“Someday, you’ll realize that love isn’t possession!” Sarai snapped back. “It isn’t bowing someone to your will and perspective. It’s—” She swallowed at the memory of her first week working with Kadra. “It’s disagreeing with them but trying to find a way forward because you care. It’s understanding them … even if I would never have done what he did at Sidran Tower.”
On the other side of the wall, she heard a sharp intake of breath.
“You’re pathetic,” Cisuré spat.
“And you lied to me for four years, you bitch!” Sarai pushed her face against the bars and dropped her voice so Kadra couldn’t hear her. “I remember everything . I saw you at the end. I saw you run away . You’ve hated Kadra all this time, but you left me for dead just as he did.” Cisuré paled with each furious word. “He’s never hurt a hair on my head, but you?” She touched the wounds on her forehead. “You have committed almost every violence against me.”
Cisuré averted her eyes. “You’re wrong—”
“If you ever had any regard for me, find Anek and give them this.” Sarai thrust Cassandane’s red handkerchief between the bars. “You owe me that much.”
“Only if you swear not to throw your life away for him . ”
“I have no intention of dying.”
Cisuré opened her mouth, then pressed her lips together before storming from the jail.
“Do as she says.” Kadra’s voice seemed to have deteriorated even further in the scant minutes that had passed. “Don’t risk yourself for me.”
“Ordering me around, even in prison.” She tried for levity and was rewarded with a rusty chuckle.
I won’t let them ruin either of us any further . If Cassandane would help, then there was a chance for them to survive. It was a slim ray of hope, but she was the Sidran Tower Girl. She had clung to less.
Settling against her shared wall with Kadra, she kept her gaze on the wavering candle stub. And waited for dawn.