Chapter 29 #2
“I thought you were only going to be in Harbi’s office for a few minutes? Thirty of them are about twenty-five too many. Your future wife is practically bleeding to death from her broken nose. And you’re stalking in the opposite direction from the healer’s quarters.”
Astrid’s hands go to her hips, fisting there.
It isn’t about Evie. It’s about control. It’s about feeling the lack of it when we need every precious bit.
My nostrils flare. “Do we have to do this now?”
“Sometimes I feel like the only time I have to speak to you is when you’re running in the opposite direction.”
Ignoring Astrid, I trail Morgan into one of the neatly tucked away service corridors running through the walls of the castle like an invisible hive. Only the maids know their way around.
The paneling swings shut behind Morgan by the time I make it and I catch the end with my boot, prying it wider. A yawning mouth of gloom waits ahead. There’s no indecision as I step into the domain of the housekeepers keeping this castle running.
“Hey, Kieran.” Astrid stands at the doorway but won’t join me. “You’re not going to be able to outrun responsibility forever.”
I don’t need forever, I think as her voice echoes back to me. I only need a few of those minutes she’s begrudging me to figure out what to do about Morgan.
She said no. My head spins and an unsteady sickness lights in my chest.
Fools make plans and the Ether laughs.
Mother used to say that to me when I told her about all my grand ideas for the future. She was a person who lived in the moment. Even when she’d been stolen from her village and forced into a nobleman’s house as his war prize. She found joy in the small moments.
Until Roman tired of her and booted her back to her present, used and very pregnant. What I wouldn’t give for his benign neglect now.
Mother showed me the truth of the world, a truth that Morgan already knew. So why throw away a chance to make a difference?
My steps skip a beat along the well-trod path of the corridor and the slight dip where stone has been worn away by marching feet.
“You’re really going to make me do this.” Astrid stomps behind and the panel hiding the hall slides shut behind us. “You dreg-heap.”
“No one asked you to come.”
“You did, when you locked me into place at your side,” she gripes.
Potentially, but I certainly haven’t asked her to join me now.
I search for signs of Morgan but the claustrophobic press of the stone walls, much closer here than in the main spaces, does something strange to my chest. My heart ticks rather than beats and I swallow compulsively but never manage to clear my throat.
“Go back then. I’m busy.”
The reprimand bounces off of Astrid.
Here, candle wicks have eaten away at wax until only nubs remain instead of tapers. The lack of illumination doesn’t matter. Only the worker bees matter and how they have to stay out of view of the general populace.
If they trip over their feet, so what?
Just make sure the toilets are scrubbed.
Footsteps pound ahead and I take the staircase down and to the left, exhaling in frustration.
“This place is vile.”
I glance back at Astrid who glides her fingers along the seam of rock. The scent of mold is strong enough for the tips of her fingers to come back stained with green.
“We’re probably near the springs that run through the dens.”
Morgan will certainly find somewhere to hide if I don’t hurry. Can I live with myself or with her if that servant with the regal bearing gets me kicked out of the academy?
I’ve never been in this part of the castle before. Any of my jaunts through the hidden corridors generally lead further into the mountain, not down.
Astrid moves swiftly but barely disguises a gag.
“No one asked you to come.”
“I’m trying to figure out if what you’re doing is jeopardizing us all,” she snaps.
Yes. It absolutely is.
I cluck my tongue. “You know me better.”
My father would have remarked on her gall and whipped her to remind everyone who held the handle. I don’t operate the same and Astrid’s cool head has made the difference in many situations. A man holding a knife to her throat? No problem.
Mold, mildew, and dust? Her mortal enemies.
“I know how you lose yourself when you get an idea. I saw the way you looked at that girl. I’ve seen every look you’ve given her and none of them are going to help the cause.”
“You’re wrong.”
Where is Morgan? I stop, bracing my hand against the wall, waiting for Astrid to do the same to sense the tremors of other footsteps. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Any other time, I’d believe you. Your current behavior indicates otherwise.”
Mozi’s presence stretches inside of me like a cat yawning in the sun. The girl’s taken off?
He doesn’t sound surprised, only watchful and self-satisfied.
If you’re planning to mock me too, spare me. I’m begging you, I throw back.
Harbi will do whatever it takes to maneuver people where she needs them like pieces on a Grim board. You should have understood that before you agreed to her terms.
I startle, then, You were listening.
I had a feeling things were not going to go your way. I saw the girl through your eyes, remember? I see more than you think.
Mozi also knows exactly how much I want Morgan. Not for the plans alone but for me, personally, in a world where it’s dangerous to want anything for myself.
It seems much more likely that Harbi had been counting on me doing something unprecedented. She’ll use whatever opportunity presents itself to get one up on my father, and I threw myself in her lap.
A shock of red hair flashes from somewhere down the hall and I step closer—
Astrid grabs my leathers. “Stop.”
I vibrate in her hand, my attention torn. “What?”
Those keen eyes bore straight through me and uncover the ragged bits I’m trying to hide. “This isn’t like you.”
Her voice is soft, confused, and disparaging.
“Remember everything we’re trying to build and ask yourself again if she’s worth it. If she’s—”
I lift a hand and Astrid stops mid argument.
“I’ve heard enough, okay?” I say quietly.
“Have you?”
“I’ve indulged in your opinions often lately and I’m putting an end to it. You’ve made your analysis, Astrid. Enough.”
She forces a smile. “Just trying to give the great general’s son a little advice.”
“Lower your expectations. Otherwise someone might accuse you of being too optimistic.”
“I normally don’t have to beat you upside the head with this much logic. Something has gotten into you. Something unusual.” She takes a step back and stares curiously at me.
My composure splinters apart. “You’re wasting your breath.”