Chapter 31
For a moment the hall is silent. My mouth hangs open as I stare at Roiven’s back, trying to put a coherent thought together.
I don’t know what feels worse. The idea that Roiven was told to get close to me, or…
Did his sister just say wife? Am I hallucinating?
How could I possibly have gotten married without knowing about it? I stare down at the marks on my left arm. Kin bond, Roiven called it. Nor had one, and come to think of it Roiven had said they and Hevrin were married, but…
The other witches in the room break out into argument, all talking over each other. The seated woman wheels her chair towards me and holds out a hand, as if expecting me to show off my marks to her. I step back, bristling.
“I’m not his wife,” I announce.
“Caiteven…” Roiven sighs, turning to face me. I stare back at him and shake my head, taking another step away.
“We’re not married. You never said anything about that.”
Last night. When I said it could be meaningless, and he said it wasn’t that simple with the bond, I never for a moment thought…
“This is ridiculous. Surely you—” Torain starts.
“Roiven, you must—” Aria says at the same time.
“Her?” Avreen says.
“It’s complicated,” Roiven tells me, his voice low.
I can tell he’s anxious. Well, fuck him, I don’t care how he feels.
The only answer that should have come out of his mouth was of course we aren’t married, they’re making a stupid joke.
He takes a step toward me, closing the distance.
The witch runs a hand through his hair and exhales hard.
“Say we aren’t married.” My voice shakes.
“I didn’t mean to anger you.”
“And yet here we are.” I snap. “You lied about this.”
“It wasn’t an outright lie. I can’t…”
He’s about to tell me the enchantment doesn’t let him lie, like I don’t already know that. But it didn’t stop him from deceiving me.
“You didn’t tell me the whole truth.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Then undo it.” My voice sharpens with each word.
“I told you, the bond can’t be broken.”
“Of all the utterly insane things that have happened in the last week, no, the last decade of my life, this has to be the worst thing anybody—” Even as I say the words I feel myself regret them, because Harfor and Malkin and watching the Governor's ship sink is worse, terribly worse, but I want Roiven to feel ashamed.
Roiven holds up a hand.
“I had to make sure we didn’t lose you.”
Aria scoffs and throws her hands up, turning away from both of us.
The emotions hit me then, so strong I’m sure Roiven is doing it on purpose. I feel his worry for this place, his fear for these people, his guilt for tricking me. None of it is an explanation, or an excuse. And I don’t care how he feels.
He asked me to trust him. And it’s not a great week for realizing I put my trust in the wrong place, blindly, again.
I lean forward and glare at Roiven. For a moment, I consider drawing my sword and doing away with him altogether. That would surely be one way to get rid of this fucking bond. Married, my ass.
“Fuck. You.” I hiss the words with as much venom as I can muster, then turn and stride toward the wide double doorway.
“Cai,” Roiven calls. His feet pound against the floor as he follows me.
“Am I a prisoner or aren’t I?” I snap, whirling around again at the doorway to find him a foot behind me. His jaw looks tense.
“I told you, you’d have your freedom. I never lied.”
“Don’t insult me.”
“I might not have shared the truth with you,” Roiven says quietly. “But I never told an outright lie, either. Last night…”
“Do me a favor, Roiven,” I hiss.
“Anything.” I can feel his relief.
“Leave me the fuck alone before I lose my temper and cut your dick off.” I shove against the bond as hard as I can in my mind, slamming every imaginary door shut.
Roiven exhales hard, eyebrows furrowed like he’s hurt, but he doesn’t say another word to stop me as I step through the doorway and take off running down the hall.
I have absolutely no idea where I am. The door to the caldera is on the left, but what good would that do me?
It’s not like Sava is about to help me, and the forty-foot walls in plain sight of all the dragons is a bit of a deterrent to escape.
My thighs scream in discomfort as I push my pace faster.
There are doorways across the hall from me, and another set of stairs plunging down to my right, across from the entrance to the caldera.
I want to get as far away from Roiven as I can, so I take the stairs.
The bond was a mistake. I knew he wasn’t telling me the whole truth, but I was so blinded by my desire to negotiate a truce that I agreed to it without asking enough questions.
And apparently, everyone agreed he should get close to me. How much of his kindness was calculated? How much of Roiven is just one big lie? He seemed to hate me so much less after he saw the kraken. I should have suspected there was a reason why.
I make it down two staircases and around a corner. As I pass one of the open doors, I feel a breeze sigh over my skin. I want to get outside, so I step through.
Hidden behind a snaking passage that must be invisible to anybody outside the Gray Tower, there’s an overlook of the ocean. The passage ends in a small rocky outcrop, the ground uneven. The wind here is vicious. I angrily twist my hair back and drag in a deep breath.
The smell of brine fills my nose and a blue dragon swoops overhead, his wings shadowing me for a moment.
It isn’t dark out yet, but I can still see the blue glow of the ships in the distance. I’m high up on this mountain, so the horizon is a great distance away. But Hellions are fast.
I'm obviously not his wife. But where does that leave me?
I know I’m not going back to the Empire. But I can’t stay here, either. I need to find a way to convince the War-Father to agree to peace; and convince Roiven to surrender. And then…
Back to exile, I suppose. Self-imposed. Not like on the Bluff. I’ll be a hermit. Life will be simpler that way. No more losing people I care about. No more being lied to.
“There you are,” a woman’s voice says behind me. I flinch and spin, my metal hand wrapping around my sword’s hilt and pulling it an inch from the sheath.
Aria raises her hands in front of her to calm me down. She doesn’t have a sword, only a variety of knives I can see strapped across her hips and limbs. Her black hair billows back in the wind.
“If you’ve come here to drag me back to him,” I start. The words shake.
“Gods, no,” Aria says.
“Did the rest of them send you?”
“I go where I choose,” Aria answers, raising her eyebrows as if to tell me this was a stupid question. “I just want to talk.”
She's beautiful. Strong arched eyebrows, a button nose, full lips. Good looks run in the family. I’m tempted to flirt with her just to prove to Roiven that I’m not his wife, but a small part of me knows I’m being petty.
And an even smaller part of me knows my heart is far, far too bruised to entertain a flirtation.
“...Fine.” I reluctantly let go of my sword and let it fall back into the sheath.
“You really didn’t know about the bond?” Aria asks quietly.
“No. He just said I had to get it if I was going to come here.”
“Bastard,” Aria whispers under her breath.
I think I like her. At least, right now I like her more than Roiven.
“How come all of you seemed to know about me? And how did Roiven know the Hellions were getting close?” I burst out, unable to help myself. “It’s like you’ve all been talking already.”
“You met Nor?” She tilts her head to the side. I nod. “They told us Roiven had taken a knight captive. They’re a far-speaker.”
“A what?”
“It’s a type of power.” She folds her arms and leans back against the rock wall of the mountain. “They weren't sure if you’d really changed sides or if you were just pretending. Nor, I mean. They couldn’t get a read on you.”
I rub my face with my living hand and decline to answer.
“I guess my brother made up his mind,” Aria continues. Her voice sounds distant. “Roiven… he’s always taken on the weight of the world. And sometimes, he tries to decide what’s best for the people around him. He’s usually right, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying.”
I give her a disbelieving look, my eyebrows knitted together and my mouth slack.
“I’m sorry, are you trying to convince me to be happy that he decided to trick me into marrying him?”
Aria’s lips twitch.
“No,” she says. “I’m just saying his explanation is probably worth listening to, at some point, because if he decided to trick a knight into this…? He must have had a hell of a reason.”
“Great,” I say sarcastically.
“So what makes you special?”
“Excuse me?”
“You must have some idea why he did this.”
“You’re the ones who told him to get close to me.”
“That was his idea.”
“You said you all agreed—”
“We did, after he convinced us. Because a captured knight might have valuable information,” she says.
My head spins. Did Roiven not tell them about the kraken?
And did he convince them to let him get close to me, instead of killing me? Why would he do that? Maybe the enchantment made him, by forcing him to keep me safe.
“I didn’t expect you to gain his trust,” Roiven’s sister continues.
“He doesn’t trust me.”
“Of course he does. He chose to bind himself to you. He’s practically proclaimed to anyone who wants to kill you that you’re his.”
“Were you planning to assassinate me?” I growl, frustrated by this entire conversation.
“You’re a knight. Somebody was bound to try. But now…”
I make a tight fist as fury pounds through my veins. I can protect myself. It’s no excuse to have trapped me in a marriage. Aria’s gaze flicks back to the mark on my hand.
It crosses my mind to wonder if the bond marks can be cut off like enchantment ones can. Could I carve Roiven out of my skin? Just the idea makes me dizzy.
“How long did that take you? To do that?”
“I don’t know. And I’m not interested…” I take a step toward the passage. This conversation is over.
But Roiven’s sister moves to block it, her step lithe and warrior-graceful.
“Was it more or less than a day of trying, before the first lines formed?” she asks.
A day? I don’t think it even took us a quarter hour. I must not understand what she's asking.
“It… just get out of my damned way,” I tell her.
Her eyes are on mine again. I glare at her and wonder if I’m going to need to draw my sword. I somehow don’t think that killing Roiven’s sister is going to win me any favors.
“You can’t be a witch,” she says softly. Her voice is strained. “It’s impossible. You’re a knight. But… your eyes. They’re…”
“Get out of my way. Now. I’m not going to ask again.”
My hand goes back to my sword hilt. Aria doesn’t look annoyed at that.
There’s a thoughtful look on her face, and she’s staring at me like she can see straight through me.
But she takes a step to the side, opening my path back to the corridor.
Without a word I stride back into the Tower, still gripping my sword’s hilt.
So much for finding a peaceful place to sort through the mess in my head.
If Roiven’s been talking about me behind my back to these people, why did he keep who I am a secret from them? I refuse to be curious. I refuse to be anything but angry.
A boy stands inside, his hands tucked in his pockets, looking lost in thought.
The moment my gaze snaps to him he straightens and pulls his hands loose.
He’s dressed in crisp linens, not a warrior’s armor.
The witch’s dark, curly hair hangs to his shoulders, and his face is youthful, near adulthood but just shy of it.
“Miss?” he says.
“What?” I growl. I don’t let go of my sword, and I don’t mind if he notices. These people should be scared. I’m not here to be their toy.
“Ah…” I see him gulp, his throat bobbing. “The King asked me to find you and show you to your room? He thought you might want a, a, refreshment and a change of clothes?”
I glare at the boy until he ducks his gaze away from me.
“And this room. Is it his room?” Distantly, I can tell that I’m acting like an asshole to somebody who I’ve never even met before, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Any good-will I had toward this place, any understanding I had for these people, is gone.
Roiven ruined that, and I want him to know it.
I hope the boy goes straight back to the royal asshole and tells Roiven how furious I am.
“N… no,” the boy says. I can see how wide his eyes are even though he isn’t looking at me. “He thought you might prefer… your own…” he gulps again.
For one horrible moment I am reminded of the peasant sailors who toiled on Rampage under my command. For a moment I remember when my words had the power to change someone's day, and I am ashamed I've used that power cruelly.
I grit my teeth, then slowly let go of the sword handle.
“Good,” I say, but I can’t smooth the growl entirely from my voice. “Then please lead me there immediately. And forgive my anger. It was meant for his ears, not yours.”