Chapter 22
My shoes click against the stone path as I stride under arches of flowering wisteria shading me from the afternoon sun. Honeysuckle, jasmine, and tulips of every shade surround ivory sculptures and bubbling fountains.
The garden should smell beautiful—and it did, a decade ago. But no longer. The fake flowers are only a reminder that nothing natural grows in this soil ever since Caelus conquered.
I round a bend to the center of the courtyard, my courtesan dress tailing over the fake grass, and a large fountain of Terra comes into view.
She stands, mid-stride, arms held out. In one palm rests an eagle, wings tucked comfortably into its sides.
Water pools in her other hand. And around her forehead—a twisted crown of vines, roses blooming beside thorns.
Her creation. Sea, Sky, Earth. No mention of the Fire Court that came from Serinos. No, that would be sacrilegious. Illegal.
“Briar.”
My brows pull together, and my attention drags from the fountain to the stone bench. Isolde sits with her gown spread over her legs, crossed at the ankle.
“I thought I was meeting Caelus here.”
“Sometimes the only way to get servants to do my bidding is to lie and tell them they’re his orders.”
Her tone is thorny, lacking the typical softness when she breathes my name against my neck. I tilt my head away from her. The bruise along my jaw faded this morning, and the stitches in my arm dissolved an hour ago, but I can’t be too careful.
“Come,” she says, patting the spot beside her. “Sit.”
I hesitate, searching her eyes. There’s a chill there, but it thaws as her lips tilt and she warms me with a smile.
The tension in my shoulders unfurls, and I close the distance between us, settling onto the bench. Between the sun-drenched stone beneath me, and her thigh pressing against mine, warmth seeps into my bones. “You wanted to—”
“I looked everywhere for you.”
I swallow. “What?”
Her gaze remains fixed on the fountain. “During the trial.” She turns her head, slowly, until her eyes bore into me. “Where were you?”
My words tangle on my tongue, a mess of half-truths and complete lies. The confession begs to be let free, but I can’t put her in harm’s way. “Isolde, I…”
The sentence bottlenecks in my throat, and I weave my fingers through hers.
“Yes?” she says, expectantly.
I blow out a breath. “My uncle had a fall, and I had to help take care of him. They’re both getting older, and I’m so worried that the jewels I’m giving them aren’t enough to pay for their care.”
“A shame.” Her thumb brushes over the back of my hand, and she lets out a hum. “What are their names again?”
My mouth goes dry, and the sun bakes down on me. She’s never asked their names—never doubted my lies about where I am when I’m not at the castle.
“Lydia and Malcolm,” I manage.
“Lydia and Malcolm, what?”
I search the recesses of my mind for a single surname, one of many I’ve seen bolted above the front doors in Sarenia. “Lockett.”
She nods, slowly. “Lydia and Malcolm Lockett?”
“Yes.”
“Send my wishes for a speedy recovery.”
“They’ll appreciate that,” I say, controlling my voice even as my heart pounds against my ribs. She knows it’s a lie. I can tell by the set of her shoulders and the way she won’t make direct eye contact. But I’ve burrowed this lie so deep, I can’t admit what I actually do with the jewels.
She brushes my hair off my shoulders and plucks a fake rose from the bush behind us, twisting the stem between her thumb and forefinger. She flicks it to the ground.
I force my lips into a smile, my mind racing with a way to change the topic. She pauses, and her brows furrow as her gaze finds the gold chain resting against my chest.
The blood drains from my face.
She leans closer, hovering her mouth over my ear. “I saw a competitor wearing this chain, did I not?” She pinches it between her fingers, so tight her skin puckers around the edges. “Kressa, right?”
“This?” A laugh bubbles from me. I cup her face and trace her chin with my thumb, dipping my fingers into her hairline. “Isolde, there is nothing for you to worry about. Caelus wants me to get closer to her and figure out what she has to hide. That’s all. This necklace means nothing to me.”
She clicks her tongue and drops the charm. “A shame the vermin didn’t kill her.”
I tilt my head. “Vermin?”
“The kraken. Vermin, like all the other creatures who dwell in the sea.”
The words are a slap to the face, but I school my features while a bruise forms on my heart. Her distaste for any court that isn’t her own isn’t a secret, like the other rulers. My own mother loathed the land, after all.
But it’s a shock to hear it said so plainly.
“I know what’s happening to me,” she whispers, her gaze somewhere in the distance. “That it’s only a matter of time before my power depletes until all I am is a husk.”
I let a moment pass by, then, “Will your forces be ready before that happens?”
She shrugs, weak, the space around her collarbones hollower than it was just days ago. “They’re going to have to be. Either I die trying to save myself, or I die doing nothing.” She picks at a thread on her dress. “That’s why I wanted to enter The Gales. To wish for my power back.”
The light in her eyes dulls, and I weave an arm around her waist. Using my other hand, I tilt her chin until our eyes meet. “We’ll find a way out of this.”
She doesn’t know how deep the promise goes—how I can’t imagine a life without her gentle touch or the press of her full lips against mine.
Leaning into my touch, her gaze clears. “When I surrendered my power ten years ago and bound myself to this castle, I never thought I’d find love within these walls.” Tears rim her eyes, and she sniffs. “But here you are, Briar.”
“Here I am,” I whisper, tracing her bottom lip with my thumb. “And here I’ll be.”
She melts into me, molding our bodies together. In the openness of the gardens, with little more than a hedge at our backs and a fountain at our front, she presses her lips to mine. My breath hitches, and my eyes flutter shut.
Yes, she surrendered her power to Caelus, but I’m the one who fanned the flames of war. We’re two sides of the same coin, living the consequences of our actions.
She pulls back first, eyes drunk. Then they narrow, focusing on the balcony over my shoulder.
I turn, and ice spreads through my veins.
Dressed in black and no longer favoring her left leg, Kressa stands at the rail, deep in conversation with Simon. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and although she doesn’t look my way, there’s an expectant buzz in the air—a stiffness to her spine.
A shiver crests over my arms.
I expect Isolde to jerk away from me, like she does whenever our time is unexpectedly interrupted. But she teases the ends of my hair with her fingers and settles her mouth against the curve of my throat.
“What are you doing?” I breathe, warmth blooming behind my navel.
She drags her nose up the slope of my throat and hovers her lips over my ear. “Touching what’s mine.”
My breath comes out ragged, and I bite into my cheek—anything to stop myself from pulling Isolde behind the hedges. She presses kisses behind my ear, then my nape, leaving a blazing trail in her wake.
At the balcony, Kressa’s gaze slides to me. Goosebumps wind down my spine, and as Isolde’s hand weaves into my hair, Kressa doesn’t look away.
She lifts a brow, as if to say, Your words are powerful.
“I heard Caelus is holding a dinner this weekend,” I say.
Isolde pauses, lifting her mouth from my neck. Kressa disappears into the castle, and whatever tether she had on me snaps.
“He is,” Isolde says against my skin. “There’s also a ball coming up, before the final trial of The Gales, that he’s already preparing for.”
“What’s so important about it?”
She presses a final kiss to the top of my spine. “Apparently, there’s been an advancement in the war, large enough for Caelus to wish to announce it at the ball.”
My attention piques. “What is it?”
She leans against the back of the bench and shrugs. “I have no idea. He doesn’t tell me anything. If anyone were to know, I would think it’d be you.”
My palms sweat. I could send a letter into the water like I’ve done countless of times over the years. But without a single response to show for it, I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Yet my thoughts turn to my mother’s smiling face—her ruby eyes as vivid as the brightest coral in the sea.
I rise from the bench and wipe my hands down the front of my dress. “I’d better get going. Thea is expecting me for tea.”
Isolde shifts forward. “Wait.”
“Yes?”
She eyes the dark clouds rolling in over the mountains. “Caelus mentioned to one of his advisors that he’s getting impatient waiting for answers about one of the competitors. I’m worried he’s talking about you.”
I swallow. “Impatient? It’s only been a couple days.”
Her hold loosens on me, one finger at a time, until her touch is gone completely. “If I had to guess, he’ll wait until this ball he’s planning. Before the final trial.”
Stepping back, I nod. “I’ll have his information by then. And once I’m freed of that duty, we’ll leave.”
But even as I say the words, I watch her wilt. Her shoulders curl in on themselves, and there’s a lifelessness to her hair—the weight of draining her power for an entire decade and bowing to a false king.
I make a silent vow.
One day, he’ll bow to us.