CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ARTIFICE AND CHARM
There’s someone at my bedroom door. Which by itself isn’t odd. But they don’t use Sef’s signature knock or call out to me the way Luc does. Which is odd. Plenty of people live in Widow’s Hall. Only two of them ever visit me.
I’m tense as I creep to stand behind the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Kaidren.”
He’s the last person I was expecting.
Swiftly, I survey my room, making sure there’s nothing suspicious lying around before opening the door.
For the first time since we met, Kaidren looks messy. Patchy stubble grows around his chin, dark circles hang beneath his eyes, and his shoulders are heavy. He is still undeniably and frustratingly good-looking, but there’s an air of defeat about him.
“Kaidren?” I don’t hide the incredulity from my voice. “What are you doing here?”
He drags a hand tiredly over his face. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I—” He stops, frowning as he catches sight of my room. “These are your chambers?”
“Yes.” I slide over to block more of the open doorway. It’s a useless move. I’m not short, but Kaidren is tall enough to easily peer over my head. “Is something wrong?”
“Your room is smaller than I expected.” He scrunches his brow. “Your brother hasn’t demanded a larger room for you?”
I can’t imagine why he’s so concerned with my sleeping arrangements. I fold my arms, trying not to look as annoyed as I feel. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here?”
“Sorry.” His left leg bounces with nerves. “The first trial’s tomorrow, and I was hoping you might help me with something.”
And I was hoping to get some sleep the night before the most important event of my life, instead of fanning the flames of this fake friendship. Apparently, I’m not so fortunate. “What do you need?”
“Um—” He looks over my head at my room again. “Maybe we can discuss this in the Praeceptor’s dining room?”
I’m exhausted, and I want to refuse, but I haven’t seen him since the death of Arliss Vale, and the obvious question echoes in the recesses of my mind: Did he murder his father?
Curiosity gets the best of me. “Of course.”
A few minutes later, we’re in Luc’s dining room, and Kaidren looks more nervous than before. “Why don’t you sit?”
I take one of the side chairs instead of the head of the table as I usually do. Kaidren stands in front of me. “You know of the Shadow Queen, don’t you?”
I keep my face carefully blank. “Doesn’t everyone?”
His expression sours. “Probably. I take it you read her most recent column?”
“Yes . . .”
He rummages in his bag and tosses the Shadow Queen’s column on the table, followed by a stack of crumpled parchment.
My eyebrows rise. “What is all this?”
“Letters. They’ve been arriving at my father’s house. You know what they all have in common? They accuse me of murdering my dad. All because of what the Shadow Queen wrote. The entire mountain thinks I’m a murderer.”
Myself included. “I’m sure that’s not true,” I say. “I certainly don’t.”
He gives me a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting this from the Shadow Queen. I’ve read every column she’s ever written. I used to admire her. I never realized how careless she is with her pen.”
He looks so forlorn and miserable, I’m almost moved.
Until I remember: Kaidren Vale is a liar. He lied about why he came to Widow’s Hall, lied about wanting to be my friend, he even went so far as to pretend he wanted more than friendship, all so he could manipulate me into talking about my brother.
As soon as he realized I’m Opheran, he saw me as nothing other than a means to his ends. He doesn’t deserve my sympathy.
Does that make me cruel? Maybe. But I make no apologies for it.
“I’m sorry.” I soften my voice until it’s gentle and soothing. “That sounds like a lot to deal with. Especially so soon after your father’s death. Have you thought about dropping out of the Tournament?”
He sighs. “I don’t want to quit. But thank you. You don’t have to worry about me. My father and I weren’t exactly close.”
“Even still, losing a parent is never easy.”
Kaidren studies my expression. “You sound as if you speak from personal experience.”
I hesitate. I didn’t plan on divulging anything about myself—at least, not anything true—but this is what friends do, and that’s what he thinks we are. “Yes,” I say after a pause. “My mother died when I was young.”
“I’m sorry.” He looks like he means it.
“Thank you.” I sound stiff. Which isn’t the plan. I’m meant to sound warm and inviting to keep his guard lowered, but I struggle to keep calm and collected where my mother is concerned.
“What happened to her? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I do mind. I’m already sitting on the edge of tears, and thinking about what happened to Aja doesn’t help.
She fought as best she could to take care of us.
No matter how bad things were, she always promised me we’d survive.
Toward the end, she could no longer afford to feed the both of us.
Everything she had, she gave to me. All her love, all the blankets when the nights got cold, and what little food she could afford.
It was her undoing.
Food was scarce, so she stopped eating. She fed me but never herself. She didn’t complain, just slowly wasted away.
“Don’t worry about me, Mira. I’m going to be fine.”
That was Aja. A liar to the end.
“She starved.” My voice sounds as hollow as I feel. I clear my throat. I need to get us back on track—shift the conversation before I burst into tears. “It was a long time ago. And as I said, it’s never easy. Your father’s death was so sudden. Did you have any idea it was coming?”
Kaidren doesn’t pause. “No. I was just as surprised as anyone.”
Heat sweeps through me, but nothing in Kaidren’s demeanor changes. It’s almost scary how good of a liar this boy is. It’s easy to believe someone so manipulative is capable of murdering his own father. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I say.
“Thank you.” He reaches for my hands.
My heart careens into a flutter. Neither of us is wearing gloves.
I jerk to my feet. The move is sharp and sudden. To disguise it, I start to pace. “Let’s say you’re right. That the entire mountain thinks you’re a murderer. What are you going to do? And why come to me?”
My pacing halts when Kaidren steps into my path, placing his hands on my shoulders to keep me still. We’re standing close—too close. I am acutely aware of each of his fingers where they dig into my gown. Of the warmth of his skin radiating into my shoulders.
I stroke the tattoo on my inner wrist as I try to get my frantic pulse under control.
Intense brown eyes bore into mine. “Something sinister is afoot, and I think your family is squarely in the middle of it.” The severity softens. “You are nothing like them. You’re nothing like anyone on this damned mountain. You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”
His thumbs rub soothing patterns into my shoulders. My gown is loose. All I can think about is what would happen if he nudged my sleeve. If the dress slipped from my shoulder—dipped the smallest fraction down my arm—his thumb would graze my skin.
“Of course,” I say softly. “We’re friends.”
I’m surprised to see something like guilt flicker in his eyes.
Stars in hell, is Kaidren starting to feel shame for manipulating his gullible, trusting friend?
The flash of empathy is gone before I have time to question it further.
Kaidren leans toward me. “I need a favor. Your brother works closely with the decurio, and I was hoping you might keep me apprised of their investigation into my father’s death.”
“You want me to tell you what the decurio find?”
“Yes. Anything that will help me clear my name. I intend to win the Tournament and rule the Republic—I can’t have the people thinking I’m a murderer.
Someone is spreading lies to the Shadow Queen.
” Kaidren casts a nervous look around the room, as though we might be overheard by the chandelier. “How close are you with your brother?”
Realization hits me, and I feel foolish for not seeing it sooner. This is why he’s here. He wants to know if Luc is the one accusing him of killing Arliss.
I hush my tone in a mimic of his. “You don’t think Luc had anything to do with this, do you?”
“Who else would benefit?” Kaidren’s chest expands with a heavy breath.
“First, there was the rumor that I lied about being an isha. Now I’m accused of murder.
I’m not saying it was definitely your brother, but someone wants to ruin my reputation.
Do you think Lucien is capable of something so heinous? ”
“I—I’m not sure.”
Kaidren’s eyes blaze. It wasn’t a direct confirmation, but it was close enough. “Remira, someone is spreading lies about me. I’m going to find them and prove it to the world.”
I’m scrambling for a response, but I must take too long, because he drops his voice even further. “I appreciate you.” His eyes are surprisingly gentle. “More than you’ll ever know. You are kind and funny and brave—”
“I’m hardly brave.”
“Kindness in a place like this is brave. I’ve never met anyone as sweet as you. No matter what happens with the Tournament and your brother, I hope there are no hard feelings between us.”
I’m floored with the realization that he means it. He’s been lying to me from the moment he arrived, but somehow, in spite of all that, he genuinely thinks he likes me. He thinks I’m sweet.
I’ve never been called sweet before. I can’t say I like it, but he’s offering me his version of a meaningful compliment and I’m meant to be grateful, so I smile. “Thank you.”
His thumbs slow, and his expression is thoughtful as he takes me in. He raises a hand—I think to brush hair back from my face—and all I see is that he isn’t wearing gloves. All I think is how easy it would be for him to ruin me.
I hurl words to stop him from making contact. “I’ve been so lonely here. I’m glad we found each other.”
As I hoped, the hand stops its approach. That glimmer of guilt returns.
I take advantage of his stillness to back away. I rest against the table, relieved at the newfound distance between us.
Kaidren’s eyes track me. “As a friend, can you do something for me?”
“What do you need?”
“Tell your brother my suspicions. And when you do . . .” He speaks slowly, advancing deliberately with each step.
“Give him a message from me. Tell him I know what he’s doing, and it won’t work.
He can throw all the accusations at me he wants—I’m not backing down.
If he wants war, I will gladly give it to him. ”
His every step is heavy with meaning, until I’m trapped against the table, his stare boring into mine. In the depths of his gaze is a fierceness that wasn’t there before. Or perhaps it was, but it was hiding behind a veil of pretense.
I’ve always known Kaidren is attractive.
He is sculpted perfection who draws appreciative looks wherever he goes—it’s impossible to miss.
Until now, he was crafted from fake smiles and feigned charm.
Now he appears born from fury. His eyes reflect a desperate kind of rage that is as raw as it is familiar.
It transforms his face. He’s no longer merely good-looking in the obvious way, dripping with the shallow ornaments of charisma. In this moment, he is truly magnetic. His brown eyes are intent and harsh and filled with malice.
I can’t look away.
Fury shouldn’t call to me. His sings my name. Spite shouldn’t entice me. His draws me in like a pulled sledge.
With the varnished, waxy shell of his exterior melted away, I finally see him. This isn’t a charming, polite boy. This is a boy of simmering ire, moments away from boiling over. Infinitely more dangerous. Infinitely more alluring.
My heartbeat picks up speed and volume the longer we stare. My throat is parched, and my hands clench the sides of the table, steadying myself.
I have no idea how long we stare and no idea what expression I’m making, or whether Kaidren sees a glimpse of himself lurking in my eyes, as I do his.
He’s the first to look away. He inhales and rises, blinking rapidly, looking dazed.
There are several beats of silence, and then that refined, straight-toothed smile is back, perfect and lifeless as ever. “Can I trust you to deliver my message to your brother?”
My hands unclench as I catch my breath and fix my lips into a fake smile of my own. “Of course,” I say. “What are friends for?”