Chapter 16
Allie
Ididn’t know whether to hate or thank Dax for forcing me to face the crown. Either way, I couldn’t look away from him.
My cousin was truly impressive.
“You’re staring.” Dax tsked as he dipped his quill into the ink once more.
“I’m in awe,” I said. Easier to focus on someone else than myself right now.
He’d been in my room all of thirty minutes and he’d already filled out almost an entire parchment with small, flowing letters and numbers, while I’d been relegated to the role of fidgeting in my seat.
I’d already read everything that amazing mind of his had stored and now flooded the pages, but nothing had stood out.
“Of?” he asked.
“You.”
He huffed an incredulous laugh. “You’ll make me blush.”
I shrugged. “It’s been too long since I saw you in action.”
Truthfully, I’d only ever had the pleasure of witnessing Dax’s skills on the few occasions when we’d trained together.
While I’d been allowed to show my growing might in the sun, for all to see–and critique, unfortunately–Dax’s abilities had always been relegated to secret rooms, usually with nobody but Uncle Maksim bearing witness and pushing him to his limits.
Dara had left those dark chambers in search of her love for runes, and traveled to learn from the masters.
Not Dax. He’d always been the happiest alone in the shadows.
He’d learned that from Uncle Maksim–perhaps a little too well, I thought as Dax took another sip of the truth serum. It smelled metallic and wrong. Like something that didn’t belong in a living being.
“You’ll see me plenty until we make things right.” He jiggled the serum vial, not taking his eyes off the paper. “I’ll need pyrrot to brew more vials. This task will take some time.”
“That might be difficult.”
“You don’t need to tell anyone what it’s for. Tell them I have a special diet.”
“Not because I plan on keeping it a secret, you’re not brewing poisons,” I said. “It might be difficult to find fire roots in a frozen environment.”
“Maybe you should keep more secrets. These people were enemies a few months ago.”
Some of them might still be.
“Only the important ones,” I said. “Remember what Grandpa Constantine used to say?”
“Be wary of people who smile too broadly at you?”
“The other thing.”
“Getting drunk leads to bad decisions and worse outcomes.”
“Dax.”
He sighed. “Pick your battles.”
“There we go. A truth serum is not worth a battle,” I muttered as my eyes rushed down the lines.
Every gold coin that exchanged hands in Aquila had been written down, resulting in too many numbers not worth the hassle of remembering, writing, or reading them, for the most basic things. Cows, stones, fish, arrows.
Perfectly normal exchanges for perfectly normal purchases.
Nothing to murder over.
“I hate that I can’t just ask you to spit out the information we need,” I grumbled.
“Trust me, I hate it more. I don’t even remember reading this stuff, it just pours out of me.” Dax rolled his wrist, but kept on writing. “If you don’t even know the clue Uncle Alaric wanted you to find, how can I?”
A jolt of pain stabbed me at the sound of his name.
It always did. I kicked off my shoes and tucked my feet under me, trying to make it look as casual as possible.
Most days, I still wanted nothing more than to roll myself into a ball and roll into eternity with nothing and nobody stopping me. Especially today.
“I doubt even he knew,” I said. “Just that something was wrong.”
“You know what’s strange?” Dax’s brows furrowed. “It never felt like our vaults were empty.”
“I know. If my father hadn’t asked me to look, I wouldn’t have had any idea. And it still doesn’t make any sense. The Protectorate was never extravagant.”
A rule which Dria Vegheara herself had imposed from the first days of our Clan. We consumed only what we needed, and saved the rest for the days when a single coin could make a difference between survival and death.
But there were no saved coins, not anymore.
I’d seen the empty, cavernous vaults myself.
Remembered their sound when I’d walked inside, shocked.
Nothing.
“Maybe Alaric sensed Silas was up to something,” Dax said.
I hesitated. “Maybe.”
Silas was involved. Of course he was, gold didn’t just vanish overnight. But if my father had truly suspected his brother, he wouldn’t have tried so hard to involve him in our secret meetings instead of letting him laze around.
I’d always blamed brotherly love and misplaced hope, but it could have been part of a bigger plan my father hadn’t shared. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
Those same waves of disappointment crashed into me, like on the day I found out he’d offered the throne back to Evie. Without so much as consulting me.
Maybe he’d known the crown wouldn’t accept me.
I squirmed in the chair, feeling smaller by the second.
My father was dead, I shouldn’t have been criticizing his decisions. He’d done his best.
And now you’re left to untangle the mess he left behind, a voice hissed in my thought.
I shook my head and frowned harder at the parchment.
Dresses, a suckling pig, more fish–Tanthe Issa, may the gods have mercy on her rebellious soul, had loved everything that had ever touched the seas, from sailor to pearls–flowers, leather shoes–
My heart trembled.
There it was, right next to Tanthe Issa. My father’s name.
It was the first time since Sanctua Sirena that I saw any written mention of him. The more I reread it, the harder it hurt. It felt definitive in each sweep of the letters. Immortalized in such a small, warm way.
He’d bought a pair of shoes. The same pair he bought exactly once every ten years. In between, he’d take it to the cobbler and wore it until the soles fell off. Always leather, always from the same shop, always the same shape and shade. My father had been a creature of precise habits.
We’d even argued over these shoes, back when the last pair’s tips had faded to the point of unstitching from the soles. I’d insisted a Clan leader shouldn’t be set in their ways. To at least change them when the heel turned crusty and painful.
He’d reminded me of Dria Vegheara surviving on morning dew and spring roots.
By the end of it, I’d left him alone with his ideas, grumbling about stubbornness.
I could have lingered. I could have spent the afternoon talking about anything other than his curious preferences.
I’d judged him, instead–and now I’d never hear the faint leather squeak, that started to appear around the eighth year, walking through Aquila’s streets.
I swallowed thickly, hoping Dax hadn’t noticed I’d frozen by his side. If he did, he remained mercifully silent.
I forced myself to keep reading. We had to climb a mountain of information. I couldn’t let anything trip me along the way.
More expenses poured from the page, small and large. Seedlings in the spring, the charge for repainting the church columns, a house loan–
I bent over the paper, eyes widening as I read the name.
Bia Marino.
A distant cousin whose useless parents had excelled at nothing but debauchery and occasional gaudiness. Perhaps that was why Bia and Clara had become such good friends. Easier to face misery when you had someone who understood, and those two had been almost inseparable since we’d been teenagers.
Unlike her parents, Bia had turned out smart. Hardworking. Ambitious. I’d heard she’d given the Serpent advisor, Varen, a tongue-lashing during negotiations. A woman after my own heart.
She’d been in charge of the guest ledger at the wedding. I hadn’t realized that would be the last time I’d see her raven hair.
I gripped the parchment tighter. “Have you heard anything about Bia?”
Dax stopped writing. “Nothing since the wedding.”
The energy in the room instantly shifted.
Another fallen Protectorate member.
Another death to mourn.
Another soul to avenge.
“Why?” Dax speared the silence.
“I just saw her name.” I shook my head and sighed. “I didn’t know she bought a house.”
And only two years ago. She’d barely had time to enjoy it. So many hopes, so many lives, carelessly destroyed by someone who didn’t even have the decency and courage to claim the chaos and murders.
“I don’t remember Bia or Clara saying anything about a new house,” Dax said.
I tilted my head to the side. “Maybe she got it for her parents. It wasn’t like anyone in their right mind would lend those two money.”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Dax muttered. “Everything is messed up. Aquila under Silas’ rule, you and Evie bound to marry the enemy–”
“All of us have to do that.” No matter how far away Dax ran or how deep he hid.
Dax waved me off. “You and Evie are different.”
I frowned. “Different how?”
“She’s the former heir to the Protectorate throne, you’re the current one,” he said.
No, I’m not, I wanted to roar.
Even hidden, the crown’s weight pulsed against my undeserving shoulders.
I knew it was wrong to let Dax keep hoping, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. Not yet.
I’d feared his pity and disappointment when the crown’s indifference had only been a fear. Now it was a reality and I couldn’t face it.
“Lost Daughter, First Daughter, those are titles the Clan Council bothers with,” he went on, oblivious to the turmoil within me. “Clara, Dara, and I aren’t that important in the grand scheme of things.”
I straightened under the weight of those words. Dax kept scribbling, seemingly oblivious.
“Dax?” I whispered, as if too afraid to ask.
“Hmm?”
“Do you really think you’re not that important?”
The quill stopped scratching. The question hung heavy in the silence and the seconds that kept on ticking without an answer.
Finally, he sighed, leaned back in his chair, and looked up at me, face perfectly inscrutable. “Allie, it’s just a way of life.” The corners of his lips tightened, eyes glazing. “Thankfully, that lake didn’t end it yesterday.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Let’s hope it’s the first and last time.” He shook his head. “Anyway–you and Evie have many more responsibilities on your shoulders than any of us will ever be burdened with. Sure, you’ll have some glory, people will talk about you, but it comes with consequences.”
“People talk about you, too,” I whispered, as if fearful someone would hear even in this empty room. “They just don’t know it.”
“And I want to keep it that way.” He winked at me, then turned serious.
“You have to live your life by rules the rest of us aren’t caged by.
You have to stand in front of crowds, say the right thing at the right time, make decisions for thousands of souls who can turn their backs on you at the smallest slight, imagined or not. ”
Like the Protectorate had. Perhaps it was for the better. What if they’d taken the streets, calling out my name, only for me to disappoint them, too?
“You do that, too,” I said.
“If I want to, not because I have to. That is freedom. That is why we’re different.
” He shook his head. “I can’t speak for Clara or Dara, but, cousin–and forgive me for this–I would not trade my place with yours for anything in this existence or the next.
Some days, I don’t even know how you can survive like this. ”
I huffed a laugh that lacked all mirth. “Funny. That’s what I think about you.”
“Some people are meant for acclaim.” He shrugged again. He was doing that too much. “Others are meant for the shadows.”
I wanted to disagree.
I didn’t even know how.
My eyes drifted toward the window, watching the snow fall for the longest time. Each snowflake drifted down alone, on its own path, but it was always guided by the wind.
“Doesn’t truly matter anyway, does it?” I muttered. It sounded like defeat. “I’m no longer the heir. Clara is.”
It was the closest I could bring myself to the precipice of truth right now.
As Silas’ daughter, she would inherit the throne–and the crown. If he didn’t find a way to usurp her claim, too. Or if he didn’t lose his shaky one in the meantime.
He’d plotted with dangerous people who didn’t have a problem with killing whoever stood in their way. The second Silas stopped playing by their rules, whatever they were, he would be eliminated.
Dax remained silent, but he smacked his lips, displeased. He leaned back over the parchment. Just when I thought the matter settled, he muttered, “Not after you put that crown on your head.”
I closed my eyes, throat burning from the unspoken words and unshed tears.
“We can see Evie’s wedding,” I said. Anything to change the subject, even with more of those ugly realities.
This time, Dax actually whistled. “So the Commander does have a heart. And you discovered how to play with it.”
“Don’t be crass.” I wrinkled my nose and licked my lips, suddenly feeling exposed and not knowing why. “We’ll use a palaver portal.”
Saying it out loud made it feel so much smaller.
His slow-spreading smile vanished in an instant. “Tucked away, so nobody will see us, right?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
“I see.” He began scratching away at the paper once more, leaving me to face the silence alone.
“It’s a paltry alternative,” I admitted. Last night, I’d been high off lavender-scented steam and giddy at the thought of at least seeing Evie on her wedding day to truly acknowledge what we were missing. “But I, for one, won’t turn my nose at it. I want to at least feel like I’m there for Evie.”
“You think I don’t?” he asked, a bite to his tone.
“I don’t know what you want,” I bit my words, too, suddenly annoyed. I didn’t like the plan anymore than he did, but I felt like he blamed me for not pushing for more.
For not already magically fixing the heinous situation we all found ourselves in.
Maybe he was right.
He clenched his jaw. “I want us to finish this marvelous, neverending task, find whatever clue Uncle Alaric didn’t deign to tell us about, then use it to take back Aquila.”
My sigh deflated me; good thing he was too focused on the parchment to see me. “That’s easier said than done.”
“We’re Protectorate, aren’t we?” Frustration dripped from every word.
Even his quill dug harder into the paper.
“We get by with the barest of this existence. Our power itself was crafted out of scraps. It’s in our blood to find solutions and survive.
While I’m excited to witness Evie becoming queen, I want our Clan back. ”
My head rose as a sharp idea struck.
It was insane.
It was the worst timing.
But it could work.
“Evie will become queen of the Blood Brotherhood in a few days,” I said, almost breathless as adrenaline drummed through me.
“Yes, yes, blessed union with a killer. The joy. At least he’s better than the last dolt.”
I grabbed his hand, stopping it. “She will become the queen of the fiercest army in all of Malhaven. An army we can use.”