Chapter 51
Iwake before the sun crests over the horizon. Peeling from the couch, I silently pad to the dresser and slide out my dagger, careful not to wake Marianne and Gemma, fast asleep in their bedroom.
Dagger strapped to my thigh, I tie the pouch of jewels to my waist and sneak to the window. Through the bleak dark, the side door sits unguarded.
A handful of guards walk the perimeter, but if I time it right, I can sneak by.
I snatch a cloak off the hook—Gemma’s, based on its shorter length—and slide through the servant’s door.
At this hour, I weave through the empty corridors unnoticed and emerge into the twilight. Silencing the jewels at my waist, I search for guards, met only with a rabbit scurrying under a stone wall. I tighten the hood around my neck and take off toward the safe house.
Brisk air carries the salty brine of the sea as I make my way down the cobblestoned alley. I breathe it in, inhaling every bit of home I can, and when I exhale, I send a silent promise.
The queen will return.
Entering the alley, I make a tight turn up the short set of stairs to the back door. I rap my fist against the wood. Three swift taps, a long pause, then one more.
Voices come from the other side, and I press my ear against the door, but they halt. The skin on the back of my neck crawls.
Those weren’t women’s voices.
The door swings open, and Rita’s eyes meet mine, wild and wide, her glasses askew on the bridge of her nose. She leans closer. “Briar, run. Leave—”
A hand shoves her, and two royal guards fill the doorway. I gasp and reach for the dagger at my thigh, but one of the guards knocks it out of my grip. It plummets to the ground, and the second guards clamps a pair of shackles around my wrists.
Rhodium.
“Let me go!” I buck and throw out my legs, making contact with one of the guard’s shins.
He shouts, mutters something under his breath, and throws a punch into my side. My ribs crack and I crash into the doorframe, falling to my knees. Before I can right myself, the guards drag me into the foyer and slam the door.
Rita stands against the wall, pale. Ropes bind her wrists behind her back.
“Rita,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes.
“Bring her in here,” a familiar voice says.
My blood cools to ice, and I thrash harder, but it’s no use against the guards flanking me, their arms looped beneath mine. The rhodium digs into my flesh, siphoning whatever power of mine isn’t bound in chains.
They drag me through the hallway, the wooden planks snagging my leggings and piercing my calves with splinters.
In the kitchen, a handful of women sit on the tiled floor, hands bound behind their backs.
A guard stands watch over them, and I scream, flailing my arms. A boot meets my middle, and my shouts dissolve into a fit of coughs.
The guards drop me on the living room floor. I flip onto my stomach and press to my knees, but halt at the eyes staring back at me.
Honey eyes.
The world spins, and my vision blurs.
Daylight spears through the gauzy curtains behind Kressa.
She bows her head. I’m sorry.
A gust of wind forces me upright and slams me against the wall. Ropes woven of air pin me to place at the waist, the thigh, the throat. Caelus ambles over, hands calmly clasped behind his back.
Kressa struggles behind him, but a guard punches her in the stomach, and she doubles over, wrists secured at her back with matching cuffs.
I jerk toward him, but Caelus’s power nails me tighter in place.
Footsteps come from the doorway leading to the kitchen, and Isolde strides into the room.
My muscles go numb, and I stare at her, gaping. Yet the woman who stares back is unrecognizable. Not in her weakness, or the power that’s drained from her blood, but there’s an unknowing to her.
As if we haven’t traded whispers in the dark—our bodies in secret. Made promises to fight Caelus together.
A smirk crawls over her mouth. “I should’ve known when Kressa led us here, you’d be the one to follow.”
I struggle against the rhodium cuffs and the invisible bindings, but it’s no use. Isolde’s fingers skim the drawstring pouch at my waist, and I would fight, but my stomach hollows out. My breaths turn weak and panicked.
My gaze jerks to Kressa. Where is Thea?
I don’t know.
Panic seizes my throat and paralyzes my limbs. If Thea isn’t here, where is she? Isolde unhooks the pouch and pulls it open, smiling at the contents.
I told you never to return, I say to Kressa, my thoughts thick and accusatory. Do you know what Caelus will do to these women? What he’ll do to us?
I was looking for you.
My hands ball into fists. “This is all your fault.”
Kressa flinches. Good. She knows the words were aimed at her.
“Oh no, Briar. It’s all your fault,” Isolde says, handing the sack to a guard. “I told you there would be consequences.”
I grit my teeth. “Where is Thea?”
“Ah, yes,” Isolde says. “You thought I was too busy watching you kiss Kressa to notice Thea slip out of the ballroom.”
My nails claw at the wall. “What did you do with her?”
She scoffs. “I have done nothing.”
My gaze swings to Caelus, and I don’t bother trying to hide the plea in my voice. “Where is she?”
He shrugs. “I have grand plans for her in the third trial, but don’t worry. You won’t be there to witness her death.”
“No.” I shake my head, and a tear rolls down my cheek. “Please. I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt her.”
He dips his mouth to my ear, breath hot against my cheek. “Anything?”
I swallow a sob and nod. My legs go limp, no longer searching for footing.
Caelus pulls away and nods at the guard restraining Kressa. “Bring her here.”
Two guards lock their arms beneath Kressa and drag her forward. Their fingers dig into her skin, and her jaw clenches against the pain, her legs uselessly thrashing. I grind my teeth.
They release her to the floor.
“You lied to me,” I hiss.
“I never meant to.”
We’re bonded.
Her eyes widen.
Why didn’t you tell me? I say.
Caelus shoves her in the back, and without her hands to brace herself, Kressa splays to the floor. He turns to me. “I’ll spare Thea if you tell me why Kressa joined the competition.”
Kressa pushes herself to her knees, and the barrier between us falls—crumbles like ancient, sea battered stone.
I spent my life knowing I’d one day rule the earth—a life I never asked for.
I’d never force you to accept the same fate.
To have no other option. I kept this from you because I wanted to give you freedom, even if it killed me.
My chest constricts and turns my breaths to ragged gasps. That’s what she told Harriet—she wished she could give me freedom.
But she’s only chained me.
Caelus tightens the cord around my throat. “Have you suddenly forgotten how to speak?”
I narrow my eyes at Kressa. She blackmailed me, threatened me, lied to and manipulated me. But the worst is, she made me trust her. She took advantage of my vulnerability.
And I’ll do anything for Thea.
My tongue turns to cotton, and as I nod, the wind loosens around my throat. I suck in a breath. “She’s looking for a man named Elias.”
“Briar, no.”
Kressa’s voice is no more than a rasp, eyes pleading. I throw up my mental barriers and shield the waves of anguish and betrayal roiling from her. I swallow the guilt—hot and barbed as it slides down my throat.
The accusation isn’t anything illegal, but I could take it farther—expose her brother as Prince Barren, her as the future queen. But that would ensure her execution, and a soft part in my chest can’t bear the possibility.
Caelus sneers. “Thank you, courtesan.” He tilts his chin to the guards. “Take Kressa to her room and chain her to her bed until tomorrow’s trial. And take Briar to the dungeon. My dungeon.”
The wind pinning me to the wall disappears, and I push off, my boot aimed for Caelus, but two guards slam into me.
I fight their hold and flick my hair out of my face. “I gave you the information you want. Now take me to Thea.”
Caelus grips my chin and yanks it up. “Oh Briar, you should know better than to trust me. She will die tomorrow.” He lowers his mouth to my ear. “And so will Kressa.”
A tremor wracks my jaw, the entire fabric of my being unraveling like a strand of thread. My hands thrash against the rhodium cuffs, and I lunge forward, but the guards tighten their grip.
“Hold her straight.” Caelus says.
The guards tilt my shoulders until my bones screams in their sockets, threatening to dislocate. I grit my teeth and bite back the pain. “Too worried you wouldn’t stand a chance if I were unbound?”
Caelus reels his fist back and strikes my cheekbone.
Kressa screams and lunges, throwing the guards off of her. But one lands a punch to her jaw and knocks her to the ground.
“Kressa!” I shriek.
For a heartbeat or a lifetime, our gazes lock. A thousand words pass between us—none spoken aloud or across the bond.
But in the silence, my heart crumples. I did what I promised I wouldn’t do.
My eyes water, and an apology balances on the tip of my tongue. I form the thought into words and crack open my mind, ready to send it to her.
The hilt of a dagger slams into my head, and the world goes black.