CHAPTER 41 #2
“It doesn’t matter,” Leonidas interrupted, sparing me.
“Even if he produced every drop of sap in the world, it wouldn’t change a thing.
They’d just find something else to cling to.
Sap is nothing more than a tool. The hunger for power came first, and just as it survived the gold, it will outlast the trees, even if they all burn.
Governments don’t need magic to divide and conquer. ”
It wasn’t lost on me that he’d said produced, rather than stored or spread. Was he referring to whatever unholy means Sircelen had to resort to in order to get his hands on the incredible amounts of sap recorded on his ledgers that had never made it to the official registries?
I needed more. More details, more clarity. And so, I took my greatest risk yet.
“Unless we do something to stop them.”
It startled me, how true the words rang.
Unease prickled my skin for the umpteenth time, because they didn’t even feel like a falsehood, either, and that realization was positively terrifying.
Was I truly becoming a traitor to the government that had raised and shaped me into who I was? Becoming what I once most despised?
No.
Leonidas’ eyes flickered. “Precisely.”
I met his unwavering stare, no longer knowing what was pretense and what was real. Did I want the sap for Widesight . . . or for the cause I’d spent my whole life condemning? Maybe neither. Maybe both. Maybe I’d take it and vanish, figure out how to fix this broken world on my own terms.
But what do I know of the world? I’m just a woman.
“But it’s not nice or easy. And it sure as hell isn’t quick,” he said. “You’d best know what you’re signing up for, Miss Sircelen.”
I bristled. “Anything.”
His heavy sigh betrayed his unspoken thoughts. He still believed I was nothing more than a young, sheltered, rich Widesightian. That I didn’t have what it took to be a Sapless.
And for reasons I couldn’t name, that stung more than it should have. I’d been a damned good centurion. I could be a better rebel, if I chose to be. But none of that mattered if I couldn’t earn his trust.
I drew in a breath. “With all due respect, Mr. Alkaterre, I came to honor my grandfather’s last wishes. To claim his legacy. I intend to do that, with or without your help.” I softened my voice and added, “I’d prefer it be with your help, though.”
That did it.
I could practically taste the concession floating in the air between us before Kairis’ foreman shaped it into words.
“I guess there is something you could help with, since you’re already here.” Yes, yes, yes. “Your grandfather’s . . . creation, is in the ruins of the old temple.”
Wait, creation? I barely caught myself before repeating the word aloud.
“Now that he’s passed . . .” Leonidas trailed off with a wince, suddenly aware of how clinical he sounded, speaking of my presumed relative. The flicker of guilt on his face was genuine.
I shoved the jolt of revelation—creation, location—down into the pit of my stomach, where I could unpack it later. For now, I did what was expected. Let the weight of grief settle across my expression like a veil.
Leonidas hesitated then continued, his voice softer. “It’s only a matter of time before the army starts digging. When they do, they’ll come for what he left behind. We need to move it before that happens, but we haven’t found a way to do it safely.”
I didn’t let the opportunity slip. “I can help.” He raised a skeptical brow. “I’m good at sneaking around,” I added quickly. “I’ll come up with a plan.”
His eyes flared, and guilt twisted in my gut. He was trusting me. Fully, and far too easily.
I still had no idea how I would proceed once I got my hands on this .
. . creation. My mind spiraled with possibilities of what it could be.
Some spreading system? Or storing? Or perhaps the doctor had put his scientific background to use, and it was some sort of tool that allowed him to make a more efficient use of sap. To use less on—
Later, Davina.
It was time for an improvised step three.
“I’d need a better idea of the scale,” I said, trying to sound practical. “Could you take me there? Just so I can assess what we’re dealing with.” His eyes flicked to the wall clock, the only thing adorning the otherwise spartan room. “Tomorrow, I mean.”
“I work tomorrow.” My jaw tightened. I only had so much time to outmaneuver Zephyr.
“But you can go on your own,” he continued.
“It’s in the catacombs beneath the ruins of the temple, on the southern edge of the crater.
” Victory made my blood roar, making it hard to keep my reaction subdued. “You can’t miss it.”
Finally. Finally. After weeks upon weeks of hitting wall after wall, I had the location of the stash.
Every nerve in my system buzzed with anticipation.
Tomorrow, I will finally solve this cursed case.
Now
“Ever-surprising Davina,” Zephyr murmured. Accusation threads through his words. “Turning your back on everything you’d known. And for what?”
I stay silent, not caring for his judgement. It’s most likely as stained as mine was . . . before.
“For a cause you’ve spent your entire life destroying? Based on a few tales and words.” He huffs. “Unbelievable.”
His dismissiveness irks me, but I bite my tongue until I taste blood. If he thinks I’ll fall to this game and confess myself a traitor to the king and the Republic, just to make the intercontinental politics of this hostage easier, he has something else coming for him. I fucking invented this game.
“It was a means to an end. Just like everything else.” The implication couldn’t be clearer if I spelled it out for him.
For a moment, my gut clenches. Dreading that cursed ‘Lie’ uttered by the truth-teller, but there must be enough truth to my words. Zephyr’s nostrils flare, rage painted across his features as clear as the Kobrant ever-cloudless sky.
“Of course it was. May the Old Gods forbid Centurion Davina Lachlan from looking anywhere beyond her belly button, and the leash Ludwig Schloss has around her neck.”
That hits close enough to the truth to hurt, and it takes everything in me not to wince. Anger surges before I need to worry further about my reaction. “Bold of you to say that, Captain,” I spit, lifting my chin in defiance. “Pot, meet kettle, and all that.”
He recognizes the words, and something flashes in his eyes, too quick for me to catch. His jaw grinds, beard shifting with the movement.
“I suggest you don’t forget that your entire existence is currently held within my palm,” he says, his tone so low and dark that it has a shiver running down my spine.
The captain extends said palm between us, and my attention falls to the tender scab that seems to only just have formed over the cut I gave him.
The hand suddenly closes, becoming a fist so tight his knuckles whiten. “And it can easily be crushed.”
My eyes squint at him. I know the threats are mostly for show—for now. He doesn’t have evidence to make me a traitor, so Widesight could still take my execution as an act of war. But unspoken words swim unbidden in the depths of his green eyes, quieting me.
Right as I decipher them, he utters them.
“Consequences be damned.”