Chapter 45
ACKER
I crook my fingers at Jovie, motioning her to come over, and I can’t help but smile at her displeasure over being cuffed and at my command once again. Grabbing her by the hips, I dip my head to the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. “You chose this,” I remind her.
I smile even wider at the hint of pink she can’t hide as it fills her cheeks. “You’re such a prick,” she mutters.
I hoist her atop of my horse before pulling myself behind her.
I pull the edges of my fur cloak forward as far as they will reach over her shoulders and it calms her shivering a little.
Looking over, I make sure Irina is good to steer her horse, and she nods an affirmative.
She’s a skilled rider. It’s the one extracurricular her parents gave to her that wasn’t useless and will work in our favor to be convincing she’s Beau.
I’m concerned about her mental fortitude if she is faced with the dungeons, but Jovie was right.
We’re stuck where we are. Unable to go west with my father’s soldiers blocking the valley and unable to move east due to the front lines of the war.
Our only options are forward or back, and backtracking would take entirely too long.
Forward to the palace is somehow our only option.
The overcast sky limits our visibility. I keep a compass in my palm, feeling the needle to help us stay the course north.
Jovie shutters in my arms and I tuck my face into her neck, hoping my breath can offer her some semblance of warmth.
Plus, I know she likes it when I scrape my stubble against her skin.
Her pulse sings to me, her life source pumping a steady rhythm in the side of her neck. The desire to feel it beneath my lips and tongue has plagued me for years. Even now as I relish the flutter under my lips, my mouth waters.
Jovie’s voice vibrates against my mouth. “Don’t you dare.”
“Dare what?”
“I can practically hear your thoughts, and I have no interest in becoming your meal before I freeze to death.”
I hum, grinning at her responding shiver, knowing it has nothing to do with the cold.
Up ahead, a figure comes into view, like a ghostly shadow emerging from the night. Then another on horseback as the road leading to the city’s gates becomes clearer.
I place my hand on the side of Jovie’s neck, tilting her head back against my shoulder, angling her face up to mine. “Whatever I say or do, know it’s to keep you safe.”
She nods. “I understand.”
I cover her mouth with mine, pouring as much reassurance as I can into the kiss, letting her feel the tenderness I have for her through the Bond as I taste her, melting into her warmth for long moments before letting her go.
There’s a sharp pinch in my chest, and I can’t distinguish if it’s fear or the oath warning me from the city slowly coming into view.
Soldiers stand at the city gate, and many more on the battlements above.
The roads become congested with people the closer we get to the walls, and I’m forced to steer our horse through the throngs of people, Irina right behind us.
It doesn’t take long for it to become obvious that we intend to enter.
The largest of the men steps forward, yelling at us before we can reach the iron structure.
“Back of the line,” he orders. When it becomes clear that we don’t mean to comply, he steps forward again, hand on the hilt of his sword. “I told you to stop,” he yells.
“Stand down, soldier.” I pull back my hood, revealing my face. Even if they don’t recognize it, my nose ring is well enough of a signifier, uncommon jewelry amongst royals, that they all freeze in place. “I’m simply returning home after a long trip,” I tell them.
The soldier is skeptical. “We didn’t receive word of your imminent arrival,” he says. “The palace would have sent a carriage.”
“Does it look like I’m in need of a carriage?” I ask.
A low murmur from one of the soldiers hovering behind the lead guard reaches our ears. “The king did say the prince was due any day.”
I cock my head. “Is there a problem?”
The first soldier steps back. “No, your highness. Please, forgive me. I’ll tell them to raise the gate.”
He directs a whirling motion with his finger to one of the soldiers on the battlements and the loud drag of iron against iron starts up as the iron gate begins to rise. I turn and see Irina’s uneasy tension slip from her shoulders as we pass underneath the battlements.
“I hope Fredrich got through,” Jovie whispers.
Me too.
The city is full. Families from the farms nearby that have come inside the city walls for safety, dressed in plain clothes and tattered coats.
We pass through the city’s central plaza, where the statue of the Mother standing in the fountain remains barren of water, like she’s revoked life’s sustenance as penance for our transgressions in this war.
Little do these people know, the true danger lies within these walls with them.
The soldiers at the palace gates are laxer than their brethren guarding the city wall, clearly assuming the first point of defense did their due diligence to vet us properly.
Either way, I recognize a few of their faces, and one of them nods at my return, almost reluctantly, and I wonder if he has an inkling as to who he serves.
“Please stay to the far left when you enter the courtyard,” he says. “It’s … seen better days.”
As we pass underneath the gate, I can feel Irina practically sigh with relief.
“You’re doing great,” Jovie tells her quietly.
“We’ve barely made it onto the grounds,” she replies.
I keep my gaze ahead, but say, “Which is a true testament to how well you’re keeping up the facade. No one has stopped us yet.”
The sound of the flies reaches us before the smell does.
Decaying blood isn’t a scent you forget after you’ve smelt it once, and I’m impressed by Irina’s ability to remain stoic when we finally enter the main courtyard.
The ground is coated in a churned mixture of old blood and ice, creating a muddy, lumpy texture.
A few maidservants are toting buckets of water about as they attempt to wash it away.
Soldiers stand around and watch as the women use brushes to scrub the stones clean.
It pisses me off, seeing them just standing there. “The fuck are you all doing?” I yell at them, and they startle at my presence. “Help them clean this shit up!”
They scatter like ants.
It’s too cold for there to be any spectators on the veranda but there is a familiar face standing at the top of the stairs, waiting before the palace doors.
My voice sounds hollow to my own ears. “Hallis.”
“Ace,” he says, eyes taking in me and Jovie, then the woman on horseback beside us. “Beau?”
There’s purpose behind each step he takes down the stairs toward her, and I hate that I’m unable to inform him of the truth, not while we’re visible to others.
His concern over my sister’s arrival is evident.
He’s almost to the last step when he opens his mouth to say something but stops mid-stride as he scours Beau’s features.
I dismount and hurry to reach him, placing a hand against his chest. “I’ll explain later,” I say under my breath, smiling as if I’m excited to see my friend safely returned from the warfront.
Which I definitely am. I give him a pat on his cheek, partially to divert his focus to me, but also so he can see the authenticity in my eyes. “It’s good to see you.”
Slowly, his tension fades, but not entirely. He holds my stare. “I can’t wait to swap stories over a few drinks,” he says.
“Zion?” I ask.
“Alive,” he says, eyes flitting to the other side of the courtyard. I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know what he’s referring to—the dungeons. “For now.”
I bite my tongue, wanting to know why he’s being held, but know it’s not the time or place as I nod my understanding. “Where’s my father?”
His teeth clench at the mere mention of him. “If he’s not already in the dining hall, he’ll be there soon. He spends most nights schmoozing his guests.” The derision in his voice when he says the last word isn’t missed.
I sense a soldier as they step out onto the veranda. “Let’s get inside,” I say.
I nod to Irina and move to help Jovie down from the horse. My chest feels as though it gets tighter and tighter with every step we take toward the palace. The memory of my mother’s shrunken, wizened form back in Maile is a constant reminder of what my father can do.
Hallis’s gaze lands on Jovie’s bound wrists, his eyebrows tipping up, but he doesn’t voice his thoughts on the matter.
Then he eyes Beau again as he leads us through the palace doors.
Our pace is brisk as we walk down the expanse of the great hallway, the gold ceiling above reflecting our movements.
Petitioners congregate along the length of the corridor.
Their eyes follow us as we pass; Hallis first, Irina right after, then Jovie and me.
Her shackles clink with every step. Taking a right into a hallway under the stairs, Hallis pushes on the paneled door, and I owe the Mother all my praise for the empty storage room.
Once we cross the threshold and are alone, Hallis spins on us. “Who the fuck is this?” he demands, pointing at Beau’s figure.
I motion for him to lower his voice. With everything that’s transpired, there’s no telling what anyone in this palace is capable of anymore, nor who could be listening at any time.
I nod at Irina and she lets her illusion flicker just enough for Hallis to see through it, before quickly putting it back in place.
He tongues his cheek, closing his eyes. “He’s going to see straight through that.”
“You didn’t,” Irina challenges.
There’s not enough time for this. It’s only a matter of time before word spreads of our arrival and the last thing I want is to be caught hiding in the broom closet. “What happened with Zion?”
Hallis shakes his head, mouth clamped shut almost like he’s too afraid to speak.
I bark his name. “Hallis.”
He sighs. “When we returned, your father had reorganized the men on his council.”
My heart drops. No.
“Your father threatened to kill whoever disagreed with the new alliance with Roison, and you know Tyreek.” His gaze falls to the ground, as if he can’t stomach looking at me as he continues.
“He made a spectacle of their deaths in the courtyard and Zion went berserk when he found out, killed a bunch of soldiers.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut as I struggle to process his words, scrubbing a hand over the back of my neck. Zion is giftless. There’s no reason to keep him alive. “Why would my father spare Zion?” I ask, opening my eyes.
He shakes his head like he’s baffled. “Your guess is as good as mine. After the guards were finally able to get him under control, your father ordered him to the dungeons.”
I suppose it doesn’t matter. For whatever his reasonings, I’m grateful he’s at least alive even if it’s in the hellhole known as the dungeons.
“But Ace…” Hallis steps closer, eyes flitting between Jovie and me. “You shouldn’t have come back.”
There’s not enough time to go into specifics on why I am. “Listen,” I say, steeling myself. “Find my father and let him know I’ve returned with Beau, get him to meet me in his sitting room. I’ll explain more later.”
He looks at me with concern, and I’m not so sure he believes there’ll be a later, but I give him a firm nod to go ahead with my directions.
“Trust me.”