Chapter 27 #2
My stomach lurches at the red, swollen ring around her sandy eyes. She goes to push herself up from the log, but I hold out a hand. “Don’t. I’ll come to you.”
I circle the group and kneel down beside her. In the distance, Kressa stands against a building, watching with a raised brow. I turn my attention to Dolma and unhook the drawstring bag from my sheath.
“I met Geoff,” I say.
Her eyes widen at the name, and her chin shudders.
“He told me all about you, and how excited he was to be a father. All he wanted was for his daughter to have a better life.” I press the satchel into her hand and lower my voice to a whisper.
“There are enough diamonds in here to buy you anything you want. A better life. The kind of life Geoff died to get you.”
Her eyes shine with tears threatening to spill over.
I swallow and close her fingers around the bag. “He was a brave man.”
She stares at me, wide-eyed. “I don’t”—her voice breaks—“I don’t know how I could ever thank you.”
“You don’t need to. I only wish I could do more.”
She squeezes my hand. “My daughter—we wanted to name her after the Princess of the Sea, but we can’t find any reference of her name before she disappeared.”
I flinch back. “What?”
“I may have married someone from the Earth Court, but I’ll always be from the sea. I’ve never stopped honoring her.” She looks out to those gathered. “None of us have.”
“I’d be very careful who you share that information with,” I say under my breath, glancing at the others. “It’s treasonous to worship her. Punishable by death.”
My voice has more venom than I intended, and she stiffens.
But the man beside Dolma smiles, his wrinkled hands wrapped around a stale piece of bread. “She’ll return one day.”
My mouth parts, and I swallow, studying the flames licking the metal barrel. Firelight dances over their faces, blue and brown eyes alike staring back at me. Pride swells in my chest. These people, without homes or warm clothes or steady meals are, unconditionally, the bravest people I’ve ever met.
I crouch and bring my mouth within an inch of Dolma’s ear. “Her name is Briar. And she will return.”
“Briar,” she whispers.
I leave the warmth of the fire and join Kressa. She reaches a hand out, brushing her knuckles over the pendant hidden under my tunic. “Did you just give that woman those diamonds?”
“Yes.”
She blinks. “You’re not what I expected.”
I lower my eyes at the way her words wash over me, how they fill me to the brim. Swallowing, I say, “Let’s go.”
We navigate through the fog, back to the city proper where chimneys puff out smoke and Sky Court families gather around plentiful dining tables. My jaw tics. They live a life of luxury with poverty in their backyards.
Most of the people in the slums aren’t my own subjects, but the injustice sinks its poisonous claws into me.
The fog thickens the closer we get to the castle, cloaking the balcony in a cloud. Music floats through the night, mixed with voices of revelers soaking in the last few hours of the ball. Nobles stagger down the steps to their carriages, whispering into each other’s ears.
I lead us around the side of the castle, and we slip in through the side door to a silent corridor.
“Those people in the slums worship your princess, don’t they?” she says. “Sympathizers.”
I note the cold tone in her voice—the same venom that coated her words in the chamber before the first trial. “What if they are?”
“I couldn’t imagine celebrating someone so incredibly selfish.”
My steps falter. “Selfish?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice like a whip. “She could have joined our two courts together and held Caelus in place. She could have prevented all this bloodshed. But instead, she made a single selfish choice. Tens of thousands have died because of her decision.”
I tug at my collar, my tunic suddenly stifling as we round a corner and climb the stairs.
“It’s not like she knew that would happen,” I whisper, my voice fragile. But my stomach roils. I did know, but I thought I’d be able to fight my way out, alongside my crew. I didn’t know my mother had made a blood oath with Serinos.
I didn’t expect to be cursed, learning about the war from whispers on the docks, spending my days desperately searching for my crew—the women who promised themselves to The Twelfth Night. Killing soldiers at night is my only contribution, but that’s like bailing water from a sunken ship.
“Ignorance doesn’t forgive what she did.”
The knife in my chest twists, and my feet grow heavier with every step up the curved staircase. “Maybe she’ll come back. Redeem herself.”
“No. If she does, she’ll meet the tip of my blade.”
My breath catches in my throat, and we come to a stop in front of my door. I narrow my eyes. “Let me remind you, that’s my princess you’re talking about.”
“You should be as eager to kill her as me, considering what she did to those you love.”
The killing blow. I’ve hurt everyone I love. Everyone she loves. Her brother is in a rhodium helmet because of me. Thea can’t remember anything from her past, and my crew is somewhere, scattered across the ocean. Or dead.
The space behind my eyes burns. “Perhaps you’re right.”
I twist the knob. If Thea is in our room, maybe I’ll linger in my guilt and tell her who she is. Just to be reminded of what I’ve done.
“Selkies,” I whisper.
“Selkies?”
I nod.
Kressa’s eyes widen. “For tomorrow’s trial?”
“They won’t have their tails, so they’ll be lethal. Good luck.”
I slip into the room, but she slides a foot into the door opening before I shut it all the way.
“What you did tonight—I admire you for it.”
My throat tightens. “Good night, Kressa.”