Chapter 23
Zarek
NOT WHAT I EXPECTED
“Trouble with the missus?” Alia asks me, with a smile.
I run my fingers through my hair, trying to dislodge some of the hay that’s tangled in there. I spent the early hours of the morning trying, and failing, to get some sleep in one of the few safe places I have in this godsdamned palace: Alia’s hayloft.
“I figured she was a firecracker,” Alia continues. “Quiet at first, but I bet if you push her hard enough—”
Her voice trails off as she shakes her head with a rather salacious grin.
“It wasn’t that,” I mutter. “I’m— I mean, she’s—”
Alia snorts. “Come have a cup of tea,” she offers.
A few moments later, I’m sitting in the converted stall that serves as Alia’s living space, kitchen, and office.
She shoves a stack of parchment to the side before putting a steaming mug in front of me.
The liquid inside is black as a grave, with an oily sheen on top.
It’s hardly the kind of tea they serve in the royal court.
“Perfect,” I say.
I take a sip as Alia regards me with her lips pressed together.
“She’s not what I expected,” Alia finally says. “Your new wife, that is.”
I put my mug down and drag my fingers through my hair. A piece of hay falls to the floor.
“No,” I reply. “She’s not.”
Alia glances over her shoulder, as if she can see the looming palace of Vsenrog through the walls.
“At first, I figured they’d just eat her alive,” she says. “But now—”
“She’s too young,” I snap. “And too godsdamned innocent.”
Alia raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think she’s as innocent as she looks.”
I snort. Alia lifts a stack of parchment off the chair opposite me, drops it on the floor, and sits down.
“Why do you think he did it?” she asks in a whisper. “Why you and not Prince Lucian? I mean, marrying that princess to his own son would give Malrik a stronger claim to that damn mine.”
I shift on the hard chair. The thought of Lilias marrying Prince Lucian does uncomfortable things to my insides.
Shit. If this marriage is a trap, it’s working beautifully.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “And I don’t like it. Malrik never does anything without a reason.”
Alia grunts in agreement. She knows almost as much about Vsenrog’s plots and schemes as I do. Hells, she’s the one who guided me through my first few years. Alia taught me everything I needed to know to survive this damned place.
She was there when I found Gerrart. If it weren’t for her, I might have followed him into the Howling Plains.
I shake my head, trying to knock that memory back down to the pits of the nine hells.
“Until I figure out what he wants from this, I need to stay away from her,” I announce. “Being linked to me is going to paint a target on her back.”
Alia rocks back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest.
“You like her,” she says.
It’s not a question. I don’t bother to answer it. Alia tilts her chair back against the wall and bites her knuckle.
“That complicates things,” she says.
“It doesn’t,” I snap.
“Ah, Zarek.” Alia shakes her head and smiles at me. “You know, in a lot of ways, you’re still that wild little shit from the mountains.”
I frown, surprised by how much those words sting. Then I finish the tea, push back from the table, say farewell to one of my only allies in the palace, and turn back toward the den of vipers where I’ve spent my entire adult life.