CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
LOSING GRACELESSLY
Kaidren’s victory speech is as smooth and polished as one of Yelina’s pearls—and just as conceited and rage inducing as she is.
We’re gathered in the ballroom. The walls are a deep shade of blue that’s striking against the gold columns around the perimeter.
All of Widow’s Hall is built around this central chamber.
From here, you can see the railing and ledge of each floor above us, and the high, domed ceiling.
It’s blue like the sky in the light season, painted with wispy clouds and streaks of yellow.
A pale imitation of sunny days we rarely see.
Kaidren stands onstage in front of the room, crowing over his success. He rattles on about how excited he is for the masquerade ball next week, for a chance to garner final support before the third and final trial.
I stand in the back, half-hidden behind a column, trying not to look as furious as I am.
“I am so honored to be here, before you all,” Kaidren says. “I would like to extend a special thank-you to someone without whom this victory would not be possible.” That smug, self-satisfied smile that makes my insides riot stretches wider. “Everyone please join me in thanking Remira Kyler.”
The ballroom had been silent through his speech, but at that name—my name—whispers sweep through the hall like a current. Even for people who don’t know who I am, no one can miss that the person he mentioned shares a surname with the Praeceptor.
All around, heads twist, searching for me. From his place onstage behind Kaidren, Luc gives an undignified gasp as he hears my name. He looks so stunned, the audience can’t fail to notice.
I stay hidden behind my column, jaw unhinged as I choke on fury.
“Remira.” Despite the fact that I’m in the very back of the ballroom, despite the fact that I’m hiding behind a golden pillar, Kaidren’s eyes pick me out of the crowd instantly.
As if he already knew where I was. “Why don’t you join me up here?
I never would have made it this far without you.
Thank you for being such a great friend.
” Each word drips venom. His smile is a bloodcurdling snarl.
I loathe him so much, I could scream. I could wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until he turns blue. Heads are still twisting, still looking for me. I duck out of the ballroom before they find me.
I only manage to get two corridors away before pounding footsteps echo behind me and Yelina’s voice calls out, “What was he talking about?”
My steps falter. I instantly regret it and want to keep walking, but I’ve already slowed my pace. Too late to flee now. “Nothing.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Yelina circles around me to glare. “I told you when I first saw you together there was something going on. Have you been conspiring with him this whole time? Plotting Lucien’s downfall?”
“Lina . . .” Mathson comes to her side, arm around her waist. “Lower your voice. Sound carries in these halls.”
Yelina moves closer to me, steps slow and calculated, eyes sparking with malice. “He thanked you.”
“He was mocking me,” I say.
“I’ve seen the looks you two exchange. If you are secretly working against us . . .”
“I’m not. Today, I nearly died so Luc could win this.”
“Yet you still lost,” she says.
The wound of defeat is still fresh. “That wasn’t my fault.”
“Let me guess,” says Mathson. “The Vale boy promised that if you helped him, when he’s Praeceptor, he’ll alter the law so that aikkari don’t have to report themselves.”
“No,” I say furiously. “He has no idea I’m aikkari and I’d be a fool to confide in him.”
“Then what did he promise you?”
“Nothing. We’re not allies.”
Mathson doesn’t believe me. He squints, analyzing my every move for a sign of deceit. “Let me be clear, Remira. If Lucien loses, I don’t care what the Vale boy said to you. I will make sure the decurio knows the truth about you. I’ll make sure everyone knows about you.”
My teeth grind together. I’m sure to Mathson and Yelina it looks as though I’m angry—and I am—but in truth, it’s all I can do to keep myself from sobbing. “Then it’s a good thing he won’t lose.”
I don’t say anything else. Partly because I’m so livid, my throat feels raw. Partly because I’m worried if I speak, they’ll hear how choked up I am from suppressing tears.
Mathson and Yelina have always been awful. They’ve yelled at and threatened me plenty of times before, but everything feels different now. We’re nearing the end of the Tournament, and I feel like I’m balancing on the point of a needle, seconds away from slipping into failure.
It’s as if I’m observing my body from a distance as I shuffle through the motions. I watch myself go to my room. Watch myself root through my things and pull out a coat, sjaal, and gloves. Watch as I hurry through the halls and tumble outside.
It’s freezing, and harsh winds pelt me with snow, but here in the cold night air, I can finally breathe. I press my back to the stone exterior of Widow’s Hall. My knees buckle and I let myself fall.
Away from prying eyes, conniving Opheran bastards, and parents who despise me, I cry.
Snow batters me, and I welcome it. It feels a whole lot better than being kicked around indoors.
I close my eyes, allowing my tears to freeze and my mind to lose itself in the labyrinth of time.
Minutes pass. I keep my eyes closed.
“Remira.” It’s Kaidren’s voice, shouting to be heard over the roaring wind.
Internally, I groan. He’s the last person I want to see right now.
I peel open my eyes. “What do you want?”
“How long have you been out here? You’re frozen solid.” He ignores my protests as he takes me by the sleeve and drags me inside. I bat at his arm the whole way, until he finally releases me. “It seems a waste to save you from exposure only for you to die of it later the same day.”
My outer garments are dripping wet from the snow. Melted slush puddles in the hall. I purse my lips as my eyes sting yet again. What’s wrong with me today? I hardly ever cry. Tonight, I’m a damn rainstorm. “I was just getting some air.”
“You look as if you were crying.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I wasn’t.”
He frowns. “I’m not disappointed. I don’t want you to cry.”
“Then what the hell was that speech?” I shake myself, regretting the words as soon as they’re out. I don’t want him to see he’s managed to get under my skin. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
He’s studying my face, noting the redness around my nose and eyes and the dried tear trails on my cheeks. His expression is soft with pity and something deeper. Something I can’t name, nor do I want to.
Fed up with his scrutiny and the force of my own tangled emotions, I breeze past him, headed for my bedroom.
Of course, stubborn ox that he is, he trails after me.
“Leave me alone, Vale.”
“Why are you so angry?”
“Because you’re following me, and I hate you.” My words hold none of their usual bite. They ring as hollow as I feel.
I don’t know when I stopped hating Kaidren, but even now, while I’m seething and sad and overwhelmed, I don’t. Sure, he makes my blood boil—that stunt he pulled in his speech made me want to throttle him—and he has a talent for rankling me, but I can’t bring myself to hate him.
He’s still walking briskly after me. “You’re upset about something, and it’s not me. Was it your parents? I had a feeling when they left just after you during my speech.”
We reach the top of the stairs. “So, you came looking for me?”
“I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Why?” I finally stop walking and throw up my hands. “Why do you even care?”
“Do you know your posture changes when you’re around them? Or even when you mention them. You’ve got this unparalleled, unshakable confidence. But when you’re with them, you wilt.” He takes another step toward me, and I take one back. “It’s a shame. I think you’re brilliant.”
Oddly enough, it’s not a lie. My forehead creases in confusion. I expect his manipulation. I have no idea how to deal with a Kaidren who’s honest. I feel we’ve started a new game, but I don’t know the rules. “That’s why you’re following me?”
“I see how your family treats you. They’re wasting you.”
I frown. “I’m not a tool collecting rust, or a jar of milk left to curdle. I can’t be wasted.”
“That’s not what I meant. Lucien can’t win this Tournament without you. You know him better than anyone, and you know I’m right. But we would make an unbeatable team. If we worked together for the final trial, we could help each other.”
I’m so startled, I almost laugh. “You mean so I can help you win.”
“When I’m on the throne, I would make you my right hand, not my lackey.”
Much as Kaidren likes to pretend otherwise, he’s no better than Luc.
He calls me brilliant and expects me to fawn.
He tosses around compliments only when he wants something.
He offers me a place beside his throne, when what I really want is to wrest it out from under him.
He’s just as unimaginative as my brother and the rest of this mountain, thinking I’ll settle for favor when what I crave is power. “I’m not interested.”
He looks incredulous. “Lucien is going to lose. I don’t want to see you get dragged down with him. I’m offering you a trade.”
“Shame you don’t have anything I want.” I shove past him and open my chamber door.
“You’re being stubborn,” he says.
“It took you this long to realize that? Looks like beating you is going to be easier than I thought.” I give a mocking grin. “I look forward to watching you lose the third trial.”
I slam the door in his face.