Chapter 41 Skylar
Skylar meets Astrid in the west wing of the castle, on the ground floor, next to a painting of the king before Zachary—one known for hunting down the last of the Exhausters. She left Kaida with Bastet, who agreed to babysitting duty on the condition that they be provided with a plate of raw meat.
“So,” Astrid says as Skylar approaches. “You said you had a theory.” The shadows under her eyes are still there, and there’s a dullness to her skin, her hair. It makes Skylar realize how much light usually surrounds her.
There’s no point asking how she is, though—the answer is obvious.
“Well,” Skylar says, gesturing down the corridor, “everyone keeps telling me that it can’t be the Vatran royals trying to kill us.
But to my mind, Daddy Despot has the biggest reason to want us dead.
We both die, they can keep the Heart, and they don’t have to worry about what to do with me after the duel, right? ”
Astrid flicks a glance at her. “I presume you’ve got a theory on how he’s magically got around the Covenant, then?” There’s a touch of sarcasm. All things considered, Skylar will take that.
“Well, not exactly. But my thinking is—we need to see the wording of the Covenant for ourselves. If that’s what stops the royals from going after us, then let’s be sure, shall we?”
“I’m a witch. They’re not going to be all that willing to just hand it over to me to look at.”
Skylar winks. “Well, good thing you’ve got me, isn’t it?”
“And how exactly are you going to get your hands on it?”
“I’m going to ask nicely.”
For the first time in days, a shadow of a smile crosses Astrid’s face. There is a cruel sort of irony that the happiest Skylar has felt in days is making Astrid smile.
They come to a stop outside the door at the end of the corridor. Skylar asked Axel where the Covenant was kept, and he’d offered up the information easily enough. She bangs her fist against the door, hears hurried footsteps on the other side.
The door creaks open, and the Custodian’s face peers through the gap.
“I’d like to see the Covenant,” Skylar says without preamble.
“Ah…” The Custodian’s mustache quivers as he looks between them. “Do you have permission from the king?”
“Apologies,” Skylar says. “I phrased that wrong. I’m seeing the Covenant.”
The Custodian licks his lips. “As I said to Prince Zryan earlier today, I’m happy to bring it to the king’s office if you’d like to arrange a time?”
Skylar exchanges a look with Astrid. So, Zryan was here today, was he? For what reason exactly? But now is not the time to dwell on that. Skylar shoves the door hard, so that the Custodian stumbles back. She steps into the room, Astrid following.
The Custodian tugs at his collar. “I’m not sure if you should—”
“I’m the Chosen Heir,” she says, then drops her voice, allowing darkness to lurk there. “Are you really going to question me?”
He swallows. “No, of course not. Follow me.”
He leads them through the small, musty room—bookcases on one side, an armchair in the corner.
Astrid glances at Skylar. “Power suits you.”
Skylar snorts. Power is something that would almost definitely not suit her.
The Custodian fumbles around in a desk, then, like he is holding a child rather than a scroll, carries the Covenant to a lectern in front of the window.
He sets it down there, some sort of magic holding it in place.
Skylar balks a little, seeing her and Astrid’s names next to each other at the bottom.
Notices Astrid staring, too. At the written declaration that they should be enemies—not friends.
“Great,” she says to the Custodian, who is hovering beside them. “Thanks. You’re dismissed.”
For a moment, he looks like he might question her, but when Skylar cocks an eyebrow, he bows and walks away. She hears the quiet click of the door as he steps out into the corridor.
Astrid lets out a huff that might almost be a laugh. “You’re dismissed?”
Skylar grins. “Suppose I’ve got some work to do on issuing orders, huh?”
“I don’t know. You did well enough.”
Skylar pulls her pin out of her hair, letting the weight of it tumble down. The constant thrum of energy around her is giving her a headache these days—if she survives the duel, she’s going to have to learn how to shut it off.
They both step up to the Covenant—though Skylar frowns. “What the fucking Vaar is this?”
“Old Vatran,” Astrid murmurs, her eyes scanning the parchment. As Skylar looks at it, she can make out some familiar words. It’s not exactly easy to read, but she can see the resemblance. “And Arturean.”
“Well, great,” Skylar mutters.
A corner of Astrid’s mouth quirks up. “Good thing you’ve got me, isn’t it?”
Skylar feels her lips twitch and waits as Astrid reads, her brow pulled together in concentration.
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Astrid begins, and Skylar immediately frowns, “but this is all as it should be.” She points, then reads aloud.
“ ‘If the ruling monarch, or their consort, kin, or member of their court, willfully slay their own firstborn heir, the duel will be forfeit and control of the Heart will cede to the rival royal bloodline.’ ”
Skylar stares down at it. “It can’t be true.
” The king had her mother murdered. He’s been rounding up Blooded.
“The night of the ball…” She hesitates, not wanting to bring up Jessa’s murder.
Not liking the way Astrid’s eyes have already shuttered.
But they have to know. “The assassin said it was someone known at the castle gates.”
Astrid nods tightly.
“And this”—Skylar gestures to the Covenant—“all it says is that the royals can’t kill their own heir. So what if my father sent the assassin after you? Or, I suppose,” she adds as an afterthought, “someone in your court sent one after me.”
Astrid sighs. “That’s what the Blood Binding is for, Skylar.
” Her voice is so brilliantly patient, it makes Skylar want to laugh.
“Remember? ‘Once bound by blood, the willful death of either heir by a royal household shall be considered a violation of the terms of the Covenant, and the culpable party shall forfeit the Heart,’ ” she recites.
Skylar only wrinkles her nose. “And as for my court being behind this…” Astrid shakes her head.
“No son or daughter of Arturea would risk harming me, I’m sure of it. ”
“Must be nice,” Skylar mutters under her breath. “The Vatran royals have got to be behind this, though. Who else has motive and would be recognized by the castle guards?”
Astrid is frowning again, rereading the text. And Skylar can see it—something in her expression. Or maybe she can feel it, through their bond, but either way she’s sure Astrid knows something. “What is it?” Skylar demands.
“It’s just… It says that no ruling monarch, their consort, kin, or member of their court can slay an heir.”
“Right. So—” But she stops. Because she thinks she knows where Astrid is going with this. “Are you saying… Does this mean that someone outside the court can ‘slay’ us?”
“Well, yes,” Astrid says, “which is why they were saying it could be the rebels, but the point is—”
“It’s alright, Little Witch, I’m not as dumb as I look.” She rakes a hand through her hair. “It means that as long as it’s not them doing the actual slaying—”
“Can we use a different word other than ‘slay’?”
“Alright, but you started it.” She takes a breath, her insides fizzing with what feels like excitement. “It means that they can order someone outside the court to kill us. Is that right?”
Astrid hesitates, then nods. “I think so. Although, it’s a gray area. I can’t see how a ruler would want to risk the Heart—it doesn’t explicitly forbid the hiring of assassins, but it also doesn’t explicitly allow it.”
“Yeah, well, the Vatran king isn’t exactly known for his sensible decision-making, is he?”
There’s a beat of silence between them as they process it. And, okay, it isn’t a firm answer. And Skylar supposes Astrid is right—it’s a big gamble. But maybe, for the king, the gamble would be worth it? After all, there is no Nachstern heir after Astrid, is there?
She twirls her pin between her fingers, thinking. Astrid follows the movement.
“The symbols,” Astrid asks, gesturing. “They mean anything?”
“Not as far as I know.”
Astrid nods, chewing her lip. Then, “We’ve got just over a week. Whoever has been trying to kill us—we just have to survive until then.” The irony—that they both have to survive, for one of them to kill the other.
“Yeah,” Skylar says, pushing that thought aside, “and I’d like to see someone go up against Bastet in the meantime.”
“Or you.”
“Yeah. Or me.” She wonders if Astrid knows that she’s been beneath her balcony, guarding her room whenever possible. If she does, she’s not throwing a hissy fit about it—which Skylar almost definitely would do if the roles were reversed.
Astrid brushes her fingers lightly over the date at the top of the scroll—1 EC. And then over the original two names, the first witch and dragon rider to start all this. Well, not their names, but their fingerprints. Set in blood.
“What is it?” Skylar asks.
Astrid looks up. “Nothing. Just thinking.”
“Hmm. Well, while you’re thinking, could you check to see if it says anything about where the Heart is in all that?” She gestures to the Covenant.
“Not that easy, I’m afraid.”
Skylar sighs. “ ’Course not.”
“Why do you want to know where it is? You’ll find out soon enough.”
Skylar chooses to ignore that. She doesn’t want to think that far ahead. And she’s not sure she likes the way Astrid seems to have already given up. Like losing Jessa broke the part of her that was determined to win.
“My friend,” Skylar says. “The one they took. He’s at the Heart.” Astrid stares at her, looking genuinely dumbfounded. “I found out at the ball,” she explains. “They’re taking some of the conscripts to the Heart—my friend included. I meant to tell you, but then…”
“Yeah,” Astrid says, her voice sad and quiet. “But then.” Skylar hates seeing the brief flicker of light that had come into Astrid’s eyes disappear again. Then Astrid squares her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you where it is. But that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out, too.”
Skylar huffs an impatient breath. “You’re a witch. Can’t you do a spell to find it or something?”
“What, you don’t think any of the witch heirs over the centuries have tried that?” Skylar wrinkles her nose, as something in Astrid’s expression shifts. “But maybe…” Astrid bites her lip.
Skylar waits, but Astrid isn’t immediately forthcoming. “Maybe what, Astrid?”
“Well, there’s a chance we might be able to find your friend.”
Skylar’s heart lurches. “You can find Cam?”
“I can try. There’s a spell. I’d need something of his.”
Skylar twists the ring on her index finger, nods. Her heart is beating fast against her chest, a sickening mix of hope and guilt swelling in her stomach. Cam. Astrid is going to find him. If she’d told Astrid sooner…
“Let’s do it,” Skylar says, shoving that thought aside. “What do you need? Can we do it here? Now?”
“Afraid not. I need time to brew it. And the spell is better under moonslight.”
“ ’Course it bloody is,” Skylar mutters. Then she straightens. “Okay, fine. Later it is. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can find any intel on the assassins. There must be someone I can beat the information out of around here.”
“And I’ll go to the library, see if I can find anything useful there.”
Skylar shakes her head. “You’re such a nerd.” Astrid nearly smiles at that.
“Can you get your hands on a map of Vatra?” Astrid asks. “As big as you can find?”
“I’m sure I can do that.”
“Good. Then meet me in my room tonight.”
“Let me guess. At midnight?”
Another huff of those almost laughs. “Sure, midnight works.”
“Okay.” They both turn, leaving the Covenant where it is. As Skylar puts her hand on the door handle, she glances at Astrid. “Little Witch?” She hesitates. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Astrid says firmly. “Thank me when we find him.”