Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Three days and still no word from Jordi. No mention of him in the daily announcements, no explanation for the extended festival, no indication of when the Veritas ceremony will take place. The silence feels deliberate. Calculated.
But Mother's newest assistant let slip that she'll be at the estate this evening, and I intend to be there waiting. As soon as I can figure out how to secure this godsforsaken corset.
I wrestle with the ribbons until my shoulders burn, then give up.
Margot's shop it is. I hate the waste of time, but this is the only thing I own that Mother will deem appropriate, and I refuse to give her ammunition.
A loose corset, a wrinkled hem, a single hair out of place, and she'll spend the entire conversation picking at it instead of answering my questions.
I smooth the gold chiffon skirt that pools at my feet when I walk, fasten the thick gold bracelet Naima forged for me, a feathered cuff that hides a thin dagger in its hilt, and open my bedroom door.
I freeze when I find Malachi standing on the other side.
He steps forward, filling the doorframe.
His black sleeveless tunic is torn and streaked with dirt, and his expression could curdle milk.
"Goddess, Mal!" I press one hand to my galloping heart and the other to my corset to keep it from sliding off entirely.
"Where have you been?" The words come out low. Almost a growl.
I blink, caught off guard by his hostility, and by the way my pulse kicks when I catch the heat in his gaze as it sweeps over me. It's there and gone in a heartbeat, replaced by something harder.
"You were looking for me?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Does that excite you? Were we playing a game of hide and seek I wasn't informed of?"
My eyes narrow. “I’m not excited. I’m annoyed."
"Annoyed by your own excitement, perhaps."
I stare at him for a moment. "If you're going to be insufferable, you might as well make yourself useful," I say, one hand clutching the corset and the other lifting my hair off my neck as I turn and walk back to the mirror. "Help me with this."
He follows without comment, and I watch in the mirror as he studies the mess I've made of the ribbons. His frown deepens. "You barely tied this at all."
"My arms gave out. I was going to walk to Margot's shop and have her fix it." I gasp when he tugs the ribbons sharply. "Gods! Not that tight."
"You were going to walk across town with this falling off you?"
"I would have held it."
"People are half-drunk thanks to those wine dispensers on every corner. It's not safe to walk around like this." He begins unlacing what I've done, his movements careful despite his irritation.
"Like what?" I ask, though I'm only half listening. I'm too busy watching the way his biceps flex with each pull of the ribbon, the controlled strength in his hands.
He lifts his head just long enough to give me a withering look, then returns to his task. "Where were you earlier?"
"The clinic. And then I wanted to see if the rumors about legion guards on every corner were true."
His hands still. "By yourself?"
"No, with my lover," I deadpan.
He tugs the ribbon hard enough to steal my breath. I gasp.
"Goddess strike you, Malachi Bain!" I glare at him in the mirror. "What is wrong with you today?"
He stops lacing entirely, his glare meeting mine in the mirror. "What's wrong with me is that we overheard someone say Shroudmaidens were spotted near the clinic. And when I went to find you, you weren't there."
Something warm blooms in my chest despite the fear his words should inspire. I bite my lip to keep from smiling. "So you were looking for me."
He exhales, something between frustration and amusement. "Yes. I was worried and I was looking for you."
His admission makes my stomach dip. “But you knew I was fine. Because of the bond.”
I say it because I want to know if he's been reaching for it the way I have. If he finds the same strange comfort in it that I do. It's maddening to admit, even to myself. The bond is a reminder of everything I owe, everything I can't escape.
And yet, in the chaos of the last few days, it's become an anchor. The one certain thing in a world that's falling apart around me. He doesn't answer. But he doesn't look away either.
"Did you and Kage actually search for the artifact today," I ask, forcing lightness into my voice. “Or did you just roll around in the sand?"
His lips twitch. “We conducted our search before we went to the Dueling Estate to roll around in the sand.”
"The Dueling Estate?"
"Draven arranged a tour. The place was empty." He resumes lacing, his touch gentler now. "Apparently there's a match at the amphitheater tonight."
"They hold them twice daily during the festival." I frown. "Though I'm not sure how that works if the festival keeps extending." I catch his eye in the mirror. "When exactly is the Reckoning supposed to begin?"
"When the blood moon rises."
"And if it doesn't?"
"It will."
"You really believe we'll be able to see it? The sky here is never clear. The Shroud swallows everything."
"The sprites will stop. The sky will clear. We'll see it." He says it like a man who's repeated the same words to himself a thousand times. "We just have to wait."
I don't believe him. But I'm tired of arguing about things neither of us can control. "Are you satisfied with your search? Convinced the scepter isn't at the estate or temple?"
"It's not where we looked. But if it's here at all, those are still the most likely places."
"You are the most stubborn person I've ever met," I mutter.
The look he gives me in the mirror suggests he could say the same.
"I can try to search the estate tonight," I offer. "I'll be there anyway."
"Is that where you're going?"
I nod and straighten my spine as he continues to work the ribbons.
"You seem to know your way around a corset."
The moment the words leave my mouth, something uncomfortable twists in my stomach. It takes me a moment to recognize it as jealousy, another to realize it's bleeding through the bond, not quite mine but not quite his either. I close my eyes and shove it down.
"My older sister made sure of it."
My eyes fly open. "You have an older sister?"
"Why does that surprise you?"
"I don't know." I study his reflection. "It's hard to picture you as someone's little brother."
His eyes flick to mine. "Little is a stretch."
"Younger, then,” I correct with a smile. "Is she in Vindariel?"
His hands still on the ribbons. A thread of anguish bleeds through the bond, sharp enough to make my breath catch.
"She's not," he says finally.
"You don't have to talk about her," I say softly.
"I haven't. Not in a very long time." He exhales, and his hands resume their work, slower now. Careful. "She was... is... funny. Kind. Insufferably bossy." Something almost like a smile touches his mouth. "She's the reason I became a warrior."
"To protect her?"
He huffs a quiet laugh. "To be like her."
"Oh." My brows rise. "She must be extraordinary, then."
His expression softens for just a moment before grief shutters it away. The ache of it reaches me through the bond, raw and old and deep. I don't know if it's my empathy or the bond or some tangled combination of both, but I hate that I can feel it. Hate that I can't do anything to ease it.
He tugs the final ribbon into place and steps back. I let my hair fall over my shoulders and turn to face him properly for the first time. He looks me over. His brows crease. His throat bobs as he swallows.
I bite my tongue to keep from asking what he's thinking. Pull back from the bond to give him privacy, in case his thoughts are still with his sister. But when his eyes finally lift to mine, there's no grief in them. Only hunger, dark and undisguised, and it sets something in me ablaze.
I tell myself it's the bond. The raffin instinct bleeding through. But I don't care. The way he's looking at me right now, like I'm something worth devouring, something worth keeping. It feels like an eternity before either of us moves.
Anticipation coils tight in my chest. I wait for him to speak, to close the distance, to do something.
Instead, he turns and walks out of my bedroom without a word.
I stare at the empty doorway for longer than I should before I force myself to gather my thoughts and remember why I'm doing this and move.
My steps slow as I exit my room and find him studying the maps and notes scattered over the dining table. He doesn’t look up or say anything, so I continue my walk to the front door. I set a hand on the door knob and stare at the wood as I speak.
"Thank you. For helping me.”
"Were you really with your lover?"
My heart stutters, then slams against my ribs. I turn to face him and find his eyes honed on me. I shake my head.
"Do you have one?"
I swallow. "Would it matter if I did?"
He tilts his head slightly. "What an interesting way to phrase a question."
A shiver traces down my spine. It takes me a moment to find my voice. "I don't have anyone." I hold his gaze. "Do you?"
Amusement flickers through the bond, threaded with something that feels almost like loneliness. He shakes his head slowly. "No."
The word hangs between us, heavy with everything neither of us is saying.
I should go. I need to go. Mother won't wait forever, and I have questions that need answers.
But for a long, suspended moment, I can't make myself move.
Finally, I mutter a goodbye and slip out the door before I can do something foolish. Like stay.
I knock three times on Mother's office door, then enter before she can tell me to wait.
The sight of her stops me short. She's wearing maroon tonight, a low-cut gown that makes her look less like a Sage and more like the aristocrats who ruled before the treaty.
After weeks of seeing her in Veritas green, the change is almost jarring.