Chapter Forty-Four
Valeris
I paced in my room, fingers knotted behind my head, warring with my actions.
I shouldn’t have kissed her, shouldn’t have crossed that threshold, but I had and now there was no way to take it back.
I went through it in my mind, over and over again.
She’d been angry. She hadn’t wanted to see me, but when I’d kissed her—she hadn’t pulled away.
She’d leaned into it, kissed me back.
I had been barreling forward blindly, not even beginning to hope she might hold the same affection for me, but she had.
I could still taste her on my lips, feel her beneath my hands, the way she had pulled me to her.
I’d tried to deny whatever draw I had to her, but trying to go against it was like trying to go against gravity.
Until she left.
I raked a hand through my hair, muttering about my stupidity. “Kiss the girl then ask for another alliance and drop all your family history on her at once. Nice, Valeris, real nice.”
I had been caught up in the moment. My jaw clenched as I paced.
Analleia had left in a hurry, saying she had to go, but where?
I’d told her things I had never told anyone, and then she had rushed off without explanation.
Something had changed after I mentioned the line of succession.
I’d lingered in my room since she’d left, trying to busy myself and hoping she might return, but she hadn’t.
And I didn’t know what to do.
Maybe I had scared her off.
Unease crawled up my spine, and my neck twitched.
I stormed into the hallway, Howland falling in step behind me without asking any questions. I frowned. He knew or suspected what had happened between Analleia and I hours ago. I swore the man found ways to watch me in his sleep.
The seventh ball of Paravellia was only three days away. Three days, then this entire event would be over and everyone would leave. My father would choose one of us to become the new crown heir, and life would go back to the way it was.
Except it wouldn’t.
Not after I had met Analleia.
Not after I had gotten to know her.
I didn’t think I could go back to the way things were before.
“Valeris.”
I turned at the voice, finding Vera shadowed by the alcove. I glanced over both shoulders, striding toward her.
“Did you find anything?” I asked.
She nodded, but from the look on her face, it didn’t appear she liked what she had discovered. She handed my original drawing of Analleia’s dagger back to me. “I rode north and visited the archives where I found a scribe who specialized in weapons. He recognized it immediately.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “And?”
She hesitated. “He said it came from the tower.”
“The tower?”
She lowered her voice. “The tower of the Dark Walkers.”
I blinked, thinking I had misunderstood her.
I hadn’t.
“Thank you,” I said. “Tell no one.”
I turned on my heel, mind reeling as I raced toward my uncle’s office. The scribe had to be mistaken. Why would Analleia have a Dark Walkers blade?
The door to Uncle Wylan’s office hung ajar, blood dripping from the outside frame and onto the floor. I rushed forward, flying into the room. Howland drew his sword, bellowed for me to stop.
“Uncle!”
He struggled to get off the floor, a hand pressed to a wound in his side, blood seeping through his fingers. He gritted his teeth and looked up at me.
“She just left,” he said. “You have to stop her. She headed toward the main gallery.”
My throat constricted, brows pulling together. “She who?”
He gripped my arm tight as iron, fingernails digging into my sleeve. “Analleia. She attacked me. She’s an assassin, Valeris. A Dark Walker. She’s been playing us—you—all along. You have to stop her.”
The world spun, his words fitting into place, matching with Vera’s. The design on the dagger flashed in my memory, but it couldn’t be right. It had to be wrong. Analleia wouldn't—
“Guards!” I yelled, but Howland had already called for them. I tore out of the office, finding the trail of blood leading down the hall.
“Valeris, I need to get you somewhere safe—”
I ripped out of Howland’s grasp, charging forward, then barreled to a stop around the next corner, staring in utter bewilderment at what lay before me.