Chapter 18
JO
“So, Wren decided to join Edmond in exchange for knowledge on how to gain another’s magic?”
Messer chomps on a toffee cake, crumbs falling everywhere when he speaks. “More or less.”
Even though we’ve gone over the information Kai sent to Messer, it still doesn’t seem real.
The ability to transfer someone else’s magic is …
inconceivable. But the more I think about it, the more it feels like the only possibility.
Edmond held the power of influence, used it on me to kneel before him upon our meeting when his true gift was elemental.
The only explanation for him gaining more magic is if he was able to take it from someone else.
“Edmond would never give away his methods to anyone, let alone Wren,” Beau says.
Messer swallows his food. Finally. “Kai doesn’t believe so either. I suspect that’s why he’s continuing the advance toward Kenta’s capital from the front lines instead of joining his father at court.”
Kai.
Such a frustrating-shaped piece of the puzzle, never quite fitting with anyone else’s plans. Somehow more unpredictable than any of our adversaries. He does what he wants, when he wants.
Sam throws up his hand. “Are we sure we’re worried about the right Alaha leader here?”
Messer and I trade looks. Kai’s communication with me is minimal. Cut and dry and to the point. He sends most of his updates through Messer, and they offer little of his state of mind.
He’s likely still angry with me.
I was supposed to overthrow Edmond and take the crown, holding the throne until Kai could usurp his own father, Wren, and make his way to land with the rest of the Alaha. The perfect solution to all our problems—if all went to plan. But my decision to not kill the king of Kenta ruined everything.
Once Kai sent word he had made it to Roison years ago, Messer flew out to tell him of my failed mission. He was livid. Not just with my failure, but the fact that I spared Acker as well. And Messer defying his orders by following me to Maile just added insult to injury.
Kai felt like I chose Acker, and that Messer chose me in turn. Which is true, but we didn’t do it to spite him.
I’m not sure Kai will ever not see it that way, though.
Messer dusts his fingers on his shirt before speaking. “No one wants this war to end with Wren’s head on a spike more than Kai. He’ll do whatever he feels he needs to do to ensure that.”
Drake interjects. “And when Kai usurps his father, what are his plans then? Will he still have a horde of trolls to do this bidding?”
“Let’s focus on one problem at a time,” Fredrich adds.
Beau begins rubbing her temples. “I’m starting to get a headache.” I bite back the I told you so threatening to escape my mouth, but she sees it in my expression, regardless. “At this point, we’re talking in circles. Nothing is going to be solved tonight.”
Drake leans back in his seat. “The Strou have seemed to slow their attempts to move across the gulf for now. They’re either rallying their ships or have taken their loss at the border as a signal to regroup.”
Nodding, I remind everyone, “The objective remains the same. Protect Maile. Keep up our end of the deal we made with Roison to stop the Strou from crossing the gulf. When Kenta fails—”
“If Kenta fails,” Beau interjects.
Her repeated warnings to not underestimate her father have not gone unnoticed, but I continue as if she hadn’t spoken. “Chryse promises to maintain the accord between our two territories once he assumes Edmond’s throne.”
Sam nods. “The Strou situation is being handled for the time being. All we can do is wait to see what Edmond has hiding up his sleeve.”
I tip my chin in his direction, acknowledging his words. We’ve only spoken once since I left the front lines, and even then it was curt. He nods back before he blinks from existence, and everyone takes his departure as the signal to head out.
“I’m going to walk to Catuxa’s if anyone would like to join,” Drake offers.
“Count me in,” Messer says, turning toward me. “B?”
I roll my eyes. “I’d rather gouge my eyes out.”
While the Catuxa is leagues above the brothel I experienced on the outskirts of Kenta where Hallis had accidentally booked our group rooms on our journey to the capital, I do not consider watching the women and men there fawn over Drake and Messer as a favorable night out.
“Same,” Beau agrees.
“I can escort you two home,” Fredrich offers.
As if it’s the first time he’s noticed him, Messer’s eyes narrow at the man who has sat beside me all night. “Since when do you ask before following her home?”
I’m poised to reprimand him, but Fredrich speaks first. “Since when are you concerned?”
Messer freezes. The easygoing persona he perpetually wears slip and seriousness pinches the edge of his mouth. “Are you trying to court her?”
I thought I outgrew my tendency to blush, but I can feel the sensation of blood creeping up my neck and into my cheeks at the suggestion.
Those were the very last words I expected to come out of Messer’s mouth.
And that says a lot, because I’m usually prepared for just about anything possible when it comes to him.
I’m contemplating how to clip his wings the next time he tries to flit by my terrace for a visit when I realize Fredrich still hasn’t spoken.
Dread sinks like a stone in my stomach as I slowly turn to look at him.
He’s grinning, but in a pitying way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “As much as I would be honored to court you, I have no interest in contending with a Matching Bond.”
It wasn’t like I was actually interested anyway.
But I manage to keep the retort to myself. It’s not his fault Messer is a meddling asshole.
My nosy friend then makes the awkward move to slap Fredrich on the shoulder, shaking him playfully. “No one said it had to end in marriage, right?”
“Messer!” I hit him in the arm with the back of my hand.
“I’m kidding!” He smiles around the last dregs of his drink, then shrugs. “Mostly.”
“I mean,” Drake interrupts, drawing our attention across the room, his smirk more than telling. “I don’t care if you’re Matched.”
The statement doesn’t even have time to register before Fredrich intervenes. “Absolutely not,” he snaps.
Everyone goes silent at Fredrich’s declaration. Messer is struck dumb, and the disgust on Beau’s face would be comical if my own wasn’t practically glowing with mortification. I can feel the heat radiating off me as I close my eyes and beg for the gods to end my misery.
My voice comes out in a whisper. “Fredrich, please wait outside.” I can feel him heed my request, the door opening and then then closing softly behind him.
When I open my eyes, Messer has the decency to at least appear contrite. “B—”
I shut him up with a pointed glare, not in the mood to hear the nickname he’s called me since we were adolescents. “I will kill you where you stand if you say another word. Stay.”
For once in his life, he’s smart enough to keep his mouth closed.
I don’t see as much as feel the death glare Beau levels at Messer on our way out the door.
The tavern has mostly emptied, aside from just a handful of dutiful card players still sitting at a table in the corner.
They are graciously more subdued than the patrons from earlier in the night and let me pass by with just tips of their chins and a raised pitcher of ale.
Fredrich has returned to the position we first found him in, leaning against the lamppost outside.
“Want me to wait?” Beau asks.
I shake my head. “Go ahead. I won’t be far behind.”
She hesitates.
While Maile is safe, there’s no such thing as too safe when it comes to me, given my position. “I’ll have Messer or Drake escort me.”
“Okay.” She squeezes my hand gently before letting it fall as she pulls away. Her gaze lingers on Fredrich as she walks past.
Sighing, I meet his stare. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize,” he cuts me off, hand to his chest. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
I nod. “You will never speak for me again, is that understood?”
It takes him a moment, seemingly fighting with what he wants to say, but he eventually nods. “Understood.”
“Good.” I nod. “Now go so I can read Messer his last rites.”
Fredrich laughs. Loud enough for it to bounce off the alley walls. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him express genuine happiness so openly and I can’t stop myself from smiling at the sight.
“May the Mother have mercy on his soul,” he says.
I watch him saunter down the street in the direction of the harbor. He lives in a modest residence above a tailor shop. When I realized he was keeping eyes on me all that time ago, I followed him home and then spoke to the tailor to get more information about his tenant.
Keeps to himself. Tidy. Pays on time.
When I turn around, I’m not surprised to find Messer standing outside the tavern door. His attempt to appear nonchalant is laughable considering it’s very obvious he was eavesdropping. This is a good instance where he could use more training.
My voice comes out biting. “Where’s Drake?”
“I told him to save himself.”
Smart, honestly. “And what about you? Are you not scared?”
He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Terrified.”
Rolling my eyes, I move past him, and he falls in step beside me. Mount Zallis looms up ahead. It’s dizzying, staring up at its magnitude. I like how small it makes me feel, like the weight on my shoulders is less significant in comparison.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I look at him from the corner of my eye before sighing. “You’re forgiven.”
I have too much to worry about to be petty about some teasing. Plus, it’s actually impossible for anyone to stay mad at Messer, myself included. It’s much like staying angry at a puppy who piddled on the floor.
“It’s just … if you did like Fredrich—”
“I don’t.”
“But if you did,” he stresses. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t act on those feelings.”
“I don’t have feelings for Fredrich.” Seeing that he’s not going to let this go, I shake my head. “You wouldn’t understand.”