CHAPTER NINE
HOW TO STEAL A THRONE
First step to stealing a throne: get rid of the competition.
I wait around the corner of the Vale manor, watching his front door. It’s early morning, and gray clouds blanket the mountainside with snow. I’m wrapped up in a dress, overdress, coat, gloves, and sjaal, but I leave my face uncovered and recognizable.
I’m in the middle of a full-body shiver when the Vale door ekes open, and a figure steps out. Tall, broad, and muscular. His face is covered by a thick sjaal, but I recognize his build. Kaidren strides in my direction, boots crunching in the snow.
When he’s just a few paces away, I slip around the corner, gaze fixed on the toes of my shoes.
Two paces later, I collide into something sturdy.
I release a startled shriek and skid back. My arms flail as I fall.
Large hands band my waist, trying to keep me upright.
Honorable, but pointless. We’re on an inclined road slicked with ice and coated with snow. Together, Kaidren and I tumble to the ground, icy powder spraying around us.
His back slams into the ground and I land on top of him, cheek pressed to his chest.
The impact of the fall leaves us both winded. I’m on his chest, recovering my breath, feeling the scattered rhythm of his heartbeat as the warmth of his short, surprised exhales crests my cheek.
With a groan, I brace myself against his torso and push up. His arm is still around me, and I only manage to pull back enough to hover my face over his.
Kaidren looks dazed as he brushes snow from where it sticks to his scarf. “I’m so sorry—” He stops, recognizing me. “Remira?” He tugs at the scarf, revealing the lower half of his face.
“Stars in hell. I’m mortified.” I slide off him, pretending to be embarrassed as I bat snow from my clothing to avoid looking at him. “I can’t believe I stumbled into you again.”
Kaidren laughs. “I’m sure it was my fault. Both times.” He gets to his feet and holds out a hand for me.
The gloves we’re both wearing are the main reason I orchestrated this coincidental run-in outdoors. I let him help me up with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
One hand pulls me to my feet, the other rests against my waist, steadying me. I make the mistake of looking up.
He’s closer than I realized. Wind whips his scarf around, framing his face against the white of the mountain, making his eyes look deeper than ever. He’s gazing at me intently. Not smirking or flashing a fake smile, just studying me with concern that appears genuine.
My spine crawls with a shudder, and I remember myself.
I pull away from him. The hand at my waist falls to his side. “Sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t be. I like running into you.” I’m startled when he takes my hand and drags me to stand in an alley between two buildings. Snow still falls around us, but we’re more sheltered from the winds.
“That’s better. I can actually see you now.
” Before I can reply, he surprises me again.
This time, by swiping at the loose snow on my collar.
It’s a familiar action—something I’d expect from Sef, or someone who knows me—not from a near stranger.
When he’s satisfied, he keeps talking as though nothing happened.
“You always seem to be hiding. It’s a shame.
I like looking at you. You’re just about the only thing in Virdei I actually like. ”
His stare is so intense, I almost believe he means it. I’m grateful for the rush of heat accompanying his words. A reminder that everything he does is a manipulation. “My brother thinks it’s best I avoid notice.”
Kaidren’s eyes drop to my wrist. “Because you’re Opheran?” He scoffs. “Why should that matter? I would never hide you.”
A bold claim followed by yet more heat.
Kaidren’s gaze drifts lazily toward my lips. He stares at them with . . . stars in hell—is that longing I detect?
Kaidren doesn’t want to kiss me any more than I want to bathe in greyhorn manure, but he thinks charming me is the way to get what he wants.
I force a smile. “Thank you.”
He grins and I find myself counting the reasons I despise his smile.
Too wide, too many teeth, too strained at the cheeks.
To the untrained eye, it’s perfect, and I suspect it’s served him well.
It will get him nowhere with me. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be Opheran in a place like this,” he murmurs.
“Surrounded by Honorate who lie constantly, and seeing the truth of it in the Shadow Queen’s column.
I want you to know, I’m nothing like them.
A man is only as good as his word. When I say something, I mean it. ”
Lie after lie after lie. “I didn’t know they still made honorable men. Not here, anyway.”
“I intend to bring honor back into the Honorate. So, what do you say?” His deep brown gaze flits back to my lips, lingers for a moment, and then it’s fixed on my eyes again, and he’s smiling a perfect, secret smile. “Can I see you again tomorrow? On purpose, this time?”
He thinks I’m as starheaded as my mother. I’m itching to prove him wrong—and I will—but in the meantime, I have to pretend to trip and fall into his amateurish trap. “I can’t tomorrow. But another time.”
Kaidren slumps in disappointment. “I’m holding you to that.”
“I hope you do, because I really admire you.”
“Truly?” He perks up, looks pleasantly surprised. “Why?”
“You’re tenacious. Even when the rest of the Honorate are reluctant to accept you.” I drizzle honey into my tone, willing him to latch on to my baited hook. “I think it’s admirable that you don’t let petty rumors bother you.” This is the reason for our contrived collision this morning.
Kaidren’s brow furrows. “What rumors?”
“About you being an isha.” I speak slowly, as though this is something I assumed was common knowledge.
There’s no trace of his perfect smile anymore. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve just heard whispers of—” I stop myself. “Never mind. I’m sure it’s just gossip.”
He looks irritated, but quickly clears his expression with a neutral yet strained smile. “What are people saying about me being an isha?”
“Nothing. Only that it’s convenient. That perhaps you invented it to draw notice.”
“What people?” Kaidren’s tone is sharp. “People in the Honorate? Your brother?” His lips twist into a sneer. “Does the Honored Praeceptor not believe me?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” I press my hands to my face as though it’s flushing.
“I assumed you’d heard. Ignore me. It’s just talk.
” I lay a comforting hand on his arm. “I believe you. Besides, it’s impossible to prove to everyone that you’re an isha.
Short of a spectacle like Eteria.” I fake a laugh.
Kaidren is hanging on to my every word. “What’s Eteria?”
To anyone raised in Virdei, the question is absurd. But Kaidren grew up in Ophera and, clearly, hasn’t done his research.
I swallow a smirk. “A public demonstration of an isha’s abilities.
A chance for isha to show off their skills and aikkari to show off their magic.
” Eteria used to be a major event. A few aikkari and civilians were chosen at random.
The isha would reveal the aikkari and their sources to a roaring crowd, and the aikkari would in turn show off their magic to the world.
“People used to love it,” I say. “But we haven’t seen an isha for decades, so there hasn’t been Eteria in years.”
I watch Kaidren carefully as I speak. The subtle twitch of his brows, the ticking muscle in his jaw . . . He’s aching to prove himself. And I’ve just dangled the perfect opportunity in front of him.
There’s a deep hunger in his eyes that’s familiar to me.
The all-consuming, ravenous urge to prove to the world that you’re more than they expect.
Everyone has a weakness. A loose thread I can pull and pull until they unravel.
I know Kaidren’s thirst for validation like I know myself. It will be his undoing.
“I appreciate you telling me this, Remira,” he says stiffly.
“Of course.”
“I have to get going, but I’ll see you soon.” He starts to leave but stops. His eyes fixate on my neck. “That isn’t all you’re wearing, is it?”
I glance over my outfit. “Is there something wrong?”
“There’s nothing covering your face.”
I wave him off. “Oh. I’m fine.”
“Absolutely not. It’s snowing.”
“It’s always snowing.”
“I didn’t realize more snow makes you less likely to freeze to death,” he says dryly. “How much farther are you walking?”
In truth, I have no destination. I’m only here to trip him into this conversation. I start to feed him my prepared lie, but he’s already unwinding his own scarf from around his throat.
I frown. “What are you doing?”
“I just told you I’m a man of honor.” Kaidren smirks. “I can’t make that claim and leave you to freeze your face off.” Holding either end of the scarf, he loops it around my neck. With a tiny grin and a tug, he pulls me toward him.
I gasp, stumbling, hands braced on his chest. “I—” My breath catches as our eyes meet. I swallow. “I can’t take your scarf.”
“You’re not.” His eyes dance with amusement. “I’m giving it to you.” Kaidren’s fingers tuck the wool around me, carefully draping my neck and shoulders in warmth, eyes fixed steadily on mine.
I try to bat his hands away. “I can do—”
Smirking, he tugs the scarf over my mouth and nose, muffling my objections. When he’s finished, his gloved hands linger just above my collarbone.
I want to push him back, but my pulse is racing and loud, drowning out rational thought.
Kaidren ducks. Warm breath skates over the shell of my ear as he whispers, “If you want to give it back, you’ll have to come find me. I look forward to our next meeting, Remira Kyler.”
He’s turned on his heel and disappeared into the snow before I can uncover my mouth and reply.