NINE #2
My heart races as the voices near. It has nothing to do with him. Even if he’s so close that I can almost taste the mint lingering on his breath. My skin heats, suffocating under his massive body.
Someone whistles behind us, and I know we’ve been caught.
“Sorry to interrupt,” one of the strangers says.
Bishop lifts his hand off the wall and flips them off.
“Move along. I’m not putting on a show,” he growls. Despite that, he dips his head lower. I arch instinctively, and his lips brush my throat without meaning to, blazing a trail of fire. Jerking away, I bury my face into his shoulder. Hopefully, our audience just thinks I’m shy.
“Enjoy yourself,” the man says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. I hold my breath, counting their footsteps silently until I hear the door creak open.
As soon as it slams shut, Bishop backs off, palms raised. But even with the space between us, my skin still burns.
“What was that?” I demand, trying to shake off what just happened.
“I’d think it obvious. Those men are planning to kill you.”
Not pulling any punches today.
I scowl at him. “Yes. I figured that out. What did you think you were doing?”
“Saving you again,” he grits out. “Some people might say thank you.”
“Saving me? You’re leading me right to them. If people are planning to kill me at the funeral—”
“Yes, I’ve been keeping you alive for days simply because I was waiting to deliver you to just the right assassin,” he deadpans.
“You’re an ass,” I say, glancing around us. “What happened to the queen’s protection?”
He pauses, eying me sidelong. “She’s young. Some of the patrons are … not. They see that mark on your skin as a threat. I hate to ruin your day, but you aren’t safe in Wintour, even with her protection.”
Day officially ruined. Not that it had been going that well before. “Then tell me what the fuck we’re doing.”
“Well, we’re obviously not going to a funeral,” he says, and my eyes widen.
My gaze travels to the collection of coaches. Some are from visiting nobles desperate to add a little pomp and circumstance to today’s morbid pageantry. Others look like they’ve been collecting dust for the better part of this century. “We’re leaving.”
“She gets there eventually,” he says and moves toward a coach in the royal collection. It looks like it’s been cleaned up recently. “People will be in and out all day.”
Coming and going, everyone too busy making a show of their grief to realize that neither of us is in attendance.
Opening the door, he pushes back the velvet curtain and offers his hand. “I’ll go see what’s taking Taliesin so long with the horses. Wait in here.”
I don’t move. My heart is still racing in my chest.
“I can’t leave,” I blurt out. “My family …”
I need to say goodbye. Even if I can’t admit the truth. Even if I can’t take back what I said that night. They need to know I might not ever see them again.
“Your family knows.” His tone is measured but filled with unmistakable pity.
It’s worse than if he’d kissed me.
“How?” My voice shakes.
He raises one brow. Of course Bishop told them. That almost hurts more.
My family knows I’m leaving, possibly forever, to Stars know where, and they don’t care. Aren’t coming to say goodbye. And I can’t even blame them.
I grab hold of the coach’s handle, ignoring his offered hand, and climb inside, blinking back tears.
I refuse to cry in front of him. Again. The last thing I need is Bishop Marius feeling obliged to take care of me.
He’s a means to escape this shitty situation so I can figure out what I’m going to do next. Nothing more.
Bishop closes the door and nods toward the curtains. “Draw those. Don’t come out until I return.”
I yank them swiftly shut before the tears begin to fall.
Hot and angry. Fat and sorrowful. Each one an accusation aimed directly at myself.
I did this. It’s what I chose. Knowing I had to do it does nothing to soothe the jagged ache growing inside me.
Maybe it was to protect them, but now I’m imagining what Broderic told Isidore.
Told Andry. He might not have told Kieren anything, given how things were between them the last time we were all together.
I did it for them, but I’m the one who has to survive this pit of despair—and I haven’t even stopped falling into it yet.
The coach door opens again, and I quickly swipe my eyes, turning to hide the evidence of my weakness from Bishop.
But it’s Kieren’s relieved voice that says, “Thank the Stars.”
He drops into the seat next to me.
“Oh.” The word is too small for what I’m feeling, so I throw myself at him, not bothering to hold back a fresh wave of sobs as I bury my face into his broad shoulder.
Kieren holds me, feeling so solid and warm and real that for a heartbeat, I almost believe things will be okay.
“What are you doing here?” I manage after a moment, my voice cracking in my aching throat.
“I’ve been trying to see you for the last three days.” His arms tighten around me like I might slip away. “Broderic wouldn’t tell us what they did with you. Isidore has been asking around. Andry too.”
This only makes me cry harder. Not abandoned. They’ve been looking for me. I pull away and draw a shuddering breath until I’m able to speak. “Did Broderic tell you what I said?”
“He told me what you said, what you decided,” Kieren says quietly. “But he lied to Isidore and Andry and said the queen won’t let you go home.”
Broderic was protecting them. I was protecting them. That’s how it’s always been. We protect each other.
“I didn’t mean it.” It’s a confession I can only make to my best friend.
Kieren forces a half-hearted grin. “I told him that you were full of shit, but he never believes me.”
There is an edge to the words that tells me all is not forgiven between the two of them.
And I won’t be there to fix it, to help them put the pieces of their relationship back together.
“Broderic finally told me that you were leaving Wintour. I couldn’t let you go without …” He trails away like he can’t bear to say the words, either. “Is it true? What they’re saying about your mark? About the king?”
“Some of it.” I can’t manage more than that without falling apart again. But Kieren seems to understand. He always does.
I bite my lip. What in the world happened between when the queen offered protection a few nights ago and the city filling with assassins?
I’ve had too much time alone for a thousand questions to form about what it means to be marked as a Ravenell.
About whether all the old stories are true.
Or what will happen when my magic finally manifests.
“Where are they taking you?”
I swallow around the knot in my throat. “I have no idea,” I admit.
“I was only told I’m leaving a few minutes ago.
Bishop is sneaking me out of the city. He says people will be distracted by the funeral.
” I don’t mention the sudden need to leave the capital.
Mainly because Bishop hasn’t bothered to share what “things changed” other than the obvious. I’m a threat that needs to be managed.
“I was thinking the same thing about the crowded ceremony.” He glances down at my pants. “Good. You’re already dressed for riding.”
My chest tightens. That’s why he’s here. Not to say goodbye …
“We don’t have much time.” He grabs my hand and tries to tug me off the seat. “Let’s get out of here while we can. We can reach the coast in less than two days.”
Something splinters in my heart. Something I know will never fully heal. The part of me that wants to leave with him. The part of me that believes we can do it. The part of me that was foolish enough to hope I could outrun consequences.
That girl is gone now. I sacrificed her in place of the oscen.
“There’s nowhere for us to go,” I say quietly.
“The Lost Continent,” he says without missing a beat. “We can sell the horses we take when we reach the nearest port. It should be enough to buy us passage—”
“I want to, Kieren. I really do.” I shake my head, continuing quickly when he opens his mouth to object. “But I’m sorry. I can’t go to the Lost Continent.” Not with people hunting me.
“I agree,” Bishop’s gravelly voice cuts in. He pushes open the curtains, his gaze narrowing on mine. “Patron Velesont will be expecting that.”
And they control the ports. We wouldn’t even make it onto a boat.
I turn my gaze back to Kieren and reach for his other hand, holding them both like they need to carry more weight than ever now. “You’re the only security our family has,” I whisper.
He scoffs. “I’m hardly security. I’m not even trained.” His eyes turn pleading. “Arden, I—”
“You’re strong and can use a sword. That’s more than Isidore. More than Andry.” Each broken piece of my heart sharpens into resolve. “You have to protect them. They’re not safe now.”
He stares at me like he’s looking at a stranger. “Broderic can do it.”
“And who is going to watch out for him?” Why does this have to be so hard? “I need you to watch out for him until …”
I can’t bear to finish the sentence.
“She’s right.” Shadows mask Bishop’s face. “When people realize that she’s left Wintour, they will come to Damalis.”
I want to vomit.
“Who will come?” Kieren asks. “No one’s ever cared about the Icaros patronage. They just think Arden is some stupid omen.”
There’s so much he doesn’t know.
“And they will come looking for her in Damalis. I’ve already ordered troops to be stationed in the province. It will take them a few days to arrive.” Bishop nods to Kieren. “It’s best if someone travels with your family.”
I squeeze Kieren’s hands tightly. “Stay with them,” I beg. “Stay with her.”
His mouth presses into a firm line as I hit his biggest weakness. Finally, he tilts his head. “If that’s what you want.”
But I don’t want this. I want him to come with me. I want to go with him. I choke that desire back along with the rest of my tears. “I do.” I nod. “I promise I’ll let you know when I’m settled.”
Bishop’s mouth twists, suggesting this promise will be up for discussion in the near future.