Chapter 3
LEAVE
SANTHE SCRUBBED THE BAR TOP until her hands were numb. She’d been working double shifts, picking up extra whenever she could, but not because she needed the money. She needed the distraction.
It had been a week since Kal’s reckless plan to steal Railah out of Asteros had gone terribly awry. Seven days. The city was locked down. Soldiers prowled the streets at all hours like hungry wolves, liable to snap at the slightest infraction.
Staying home, waiting for the king himself to burst through her flimsy front door and accuse her of conspiring against the crown was out of the question.
She couldn’t just sit around, restless and frightened.
Working the pubs and taverns gave her some manner of focusing her harried mind.
It didn’t remove the worry, but it kept it from consuming her.
“I think the bar’s clean, hon.”
Santhe dropped her rag into the wash bucket under the counter and wiped her hands on her apron. Her palms burned an angry shade of red.
Melinda came around the bartop and touched her shoulder with motherly concern. Her soft brown eyes saw more than they should have. Santhe couldn’t meet them.
“Is everything alright, San?”
Santhe straightened the sag in her shoulders and forced a wan smile. “I’m fine, Mel. Just going through some personal things.”
Melinda nodded in understanding, the weary skin around her eyes crinkling. The sincerity of her expression touched Santhe even though the woman understood exactly nothing.
“Man troubles?”
Santhe might have laughed if that was something she did anymore. Maybe the older woman did understand. “You could say that.”
Melinda patted her hand gently. “Well, don’t you worry, San. Things will smooth out. You can’t fix it by working yourself to death. Have you tried talking to him? About whatever’s bothering you?”
Which him? She couldn’t talk to Kal. Only the gods could say where he was. For all she knew, his body could be rotting somewhere in the Saraat. Or worse, chained in King Domitan’s dungeons.
And Cinah…
Santhe hid her wince. She hadn’t heard from Cinah since that first night when everything had gone so wrong.
When he came to warn her that he hadn’t been able to get their message to Railah.
That they’d been too late. She worried more for Cinah than she did for Kal.
Kal—if any luck remained on their side—still had the freedom to figure his way out of whatever calamity he encountered.
Cinah, on the other hand, remained fully entangled in the spider’s web, a willing captive.
“No,” Santhe sighed. “I haven’t talked to him. Maybe I’ll try that. Thanks, Mel.”
Melinda gave her another pat. “Go on home, hon. It’s late. I’ll finish up here.”
The old barmaid didn’t give her the option to refuse. Santhe collected her share of tips for the evening, thanked Melinda again, and made for the rear exit.
“Be careful, San,” Melinda called. “Stick to the main streets. Whoever those soldiers are hunting is still out there.”
Santhe certainly hoped so.
Santhe returned home having managed to avoid being stopped and interrogated by any patrolling guards.
She fitted her key into the worn lock and hefted the handle.
A quick bang of her shoulder against the petrified slab of wood that served as her front door, and it was open. The interior was dark and quiet.
Santhe dropped her purse of coins on the table, kicked her shoes into a corner, and retrieved a mug from the cupboard. She rolled her neck as she poured herself a glass of mezahl.
She wrinkled her nose at the sting of liquor. She hated this stuff. But she needed something to dull her head. Whiskey reminded her of Kal. Wine made her think of Cinah. So, mezahl it was. She toasted an imaginary drinking companion and downed the spirit before pouring another.
Santhe took her time going through her nighttime routine.
By the time she had scrubbed her body with rough soap and the cold water by her nightstand, brushed and braided her hair, donned her sleep clothes, cleaned her teeth, and turned down her bed, she had a pleasant humming in her skull.
The buzz was just enough to drown out the sound of her unwanted thoughts.
Santhe lifted a leg to crawl into bed when a knock sounded at her door. She froze.
Had she imagined it? She waited, one knee on her mattress, and listened.
There. The soft knocking came again. Three raps in quick succession.
For a brief moment, she nearly panicked that soldiers had come for her in the dead of night, until her foggy mind stumbled to the realization that they wouldn’t have tapped so politely.
King Domitan’s men would have either pounded or burst through uninvited.
She scrambled to retrieve her slippers and crept toward the entry. She had no windows in front, but she did have a small peephole. What she saw had her tearing at the locks and wrenching at the handle.
Cinah stood on her threshold and slipped inside before Santhe had the door fully opened.
“Oh, my gods, Cinah!” She almost wept from relief. The door was closed and bolted behind him, and she threw her arms around his neck. The feel of his own winding around her waist undid nearly all of the stress and strain she’d experienced over the past week.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.” He stood back to look at her, hands braced on her arms. Worry pinched his dark brow. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
What hadn’t happened? Santhe bit the inside of her lip to keep from chewing her fingers. Between the stark concern in Cinah’s gaze, the feel of his gentle touch, and the alcohol swimming through her system, Santhe felt herself begin to crack. Her lip trembled.
“I’m just…so relieved to see you. I have been so damn worried.”
She felt an unfamiliar burn behind her eyes. Damn it.
“Santhe, are you drunk?”
She sniffed. “Maybe.”
Cinah’s expression softened. “Come. Sit.”
Santhe let Cinah lead her past the table with its single chair to the bedroom.
They sat on her mattress. She’d known this man for decades, and this was the first time he’d ever been in her room.
In reality, anyway. Santhe was suddenly aware that she wore only a flimsy nightgown and threadbare slippers.
She began to fidget. After a moment, Cinah stilled her hands. His long fingers were soft and warm against hers.
“Cinah,” she said. “Why are you here?”
“Because I need a favor.”
Santhe’s eyes shot to his. She noticed then that the worry she’d initially seen in them went deeper than she realized.
His smooth brown skin seemed stretched. The darkened grooves under his eyes told of sleepless nights.
His lean shoulders sagged a little more than usual.
He looked thinned out, his clothes fitting a bit looser than she liked.
Gods, and she thought she’d had it rough in her solitude.
What had this gentle soul endured in that time?
“Anything,” she said. She’d do anything to lessen his burden.
Cinah’s brow softened, but he didn’t smile. “I need you to pack your things. Enough for several days’ ride. Anything of value.”
Her heart jumped into her throat. They were leaving?
They were leaving!
This blasted man had finally come to his senses. Given up this horrid, never-ending life of serving that awful, evil, rotten king.
Santhe jumped up and ducked under the bed to drag out a pack. It was already prepared. Filled with a week’s worth of supplies, clothes, and rations. There was nothing else she needed to bring. She could walk away from this dilapidated shell of a house right now and not miss a single thing.
“I cannot tell you how long I have waited for you to say those words,” she said, somewhat breathless. “When do we leave?”
Cinah watched her, something unreadable in his expression. “I have a man. A trusted member of the guard who can provide safe passage. It is not without risk, but I don’t think we can wait any longer. I need you to get out.”
Santhe was only half listening. The combination of blissful inebriation and her sudden elation at finally escaping this godsforsaken city muddled her attention.
“Kal must be found. He—”
Her eyes flew wide. “He’s alive?”
Cinah nodded. “As far as I know, yes. They’ve been scouring the streets for him, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.
He’s a wily bastard, but there are only so many places he can hide in Asteros with this militia.
Domitan sent hunters outside the city. We can only hope Kal has managed to stay ahead of them. ”
Relief washed over her in a frigid wave. Thank gods.
“When, Cinah?” she said. “I’m ready.”
He nodded seriously. “Good. You leave in a few hours.”
Santhe grabbed a fresh pair of travel clothes from a drawer. Her only pair of shoes was in the other room, against the wall. She mentally ran through a checklist to be sure there truly was nothing else they might need. She just—
Wait.
Her hand stilled on her cloak. She turned. Cinah was still sitting on the edge of her bed, hands resting in his lap.
“You mean we leave in a few hours.”
“I need you to find Kal, Santhe,” he said. There was something about his tone. “My man can get you as far as Red Rock Pass. Beyond that, it’s a straight shot to Stillwater Wood. Get inside the forest, and you’ll be beyond the crown’s reach.”
Santhe stepped toward him, disbelief morphing into something hotter. Her hand trembled, but her voice was steady. “You mean we. We leave tonight. We need to find Kal. We, Cinah. Not me. We.”
Cinah stood then and stepped toward her. She frowned, not liking his posture. Not liking the sorrow and finality that poured out of him. The apology…
“No,” she said, backing up and bumping her wardrobe.
“This is important, San. Domitan’s guards saw a man helping a Fate escape the night Kal was supposed to meet Railah.” He paused, insinuation heavy. “A man matching Kal’s description. He killed two soldiers in the street.”
Disbelief colored Santhe’s features. But how? It might have been someone else. Could have been anyone else.
“The woman was wearing a Fate’s cloak. They escaped to Brune’s,” Cinah said, intuiting her reluctance and doubling down. “That stable was nigh unviable. You cannot think their sheltering there a coincidence.”
Santhe tried to formulate an argument, dread crawling through the haze of her thoughts. “But…your message…”
“Just because my message never reached Railah doesn’t mean a Fate wasn’t taken. I haven’t been able to verify the details, but whatever Kal did, whoever he took, it prompted the king to ready his army.”
“But—” she tried again.
Cinah’s visage turned imploring. “Santhe. You must reach Kal. He needs to know that he took the wrong woman, if he doesn’t already. He needs to know Domitan is preparing for war.”
She shook her head. She didn’t care. Didn’t care about Kal or the woman he took. Didn’t care about the crown or danger or Cinah’s man or how far he could take her. None of it mattered if Cinah wasn’t coming, too.
She dropped the cloak. Put the clothes back in their drawer. “No,” she repeated.
Cinah picked up her cloak and held it out to her. “You must, Santhe. It’s been arranged. You have to leave tonight. I may not have another chance at this.”
She refused to take it. “You are not my master, Cinah Creed. You cannot command me. If you’re not coming, I’m not going anywhere.”
Cinah tossed the cloak on the bed and ran a frustrated hand over his thick, cropped curls. Santhe had never seen him on the brink of losing his composure. He was always calm. Always collected. Tired, yes. Worn? Absolutely. But never uncontrolled.
Kal was always the one who pushed the limits. Toed the lines. Not Cinah. Never Cinah.
“You must,” he implored again.
Santhe stood her ground. “No.”
It was too far. “Damnit!” he barked. “You stubborn woman!”
Santhe opened her mouth, but he grabbed her before she could formulate her defense. His hands clamped down on her arms, his grip firm but not painful. He was angry, but worse than that, Santhe could see the terror that lurked behind his dark eyes as he assessed her.
The anger lasted but a moment before it fled him, leaving only fear. His hands moved to cradle her face, and he rested his forehead against hers.
“I can endure unspeakable things,” he said, and her defiance withered and died inside her. “I have endured them. But if they get to you, it will break me.”
Santhe’s heart squeezed painfully.
“I will break, Santhe. Do you understand?”
He sounded broken already.
Cinah looked at her with such mournfulness that it threatened to undo her.
She both loved and hated what she saw. Loved, because she had not been certain until this very moment if he felt for her what she did for him.
Hated, because she knew she had to listen to him because of it.
His feelings for her were a dangerous liability.
Tears filled her eyes, and there was nothing left within her to stop them.
“Santhe?” His pleading was more than she could bear.
“Yes,” she whispered as the first drop fell. “I understand.”
Cinah sighed, relieved and deflated.
He was sending her away. She wasn’t afraid for herself. She did understand. Yet the thought that she might never see this man again…
The thought of what might happen to him…
“I don’t…” A small sob broke from her. “I can’t…”
Cinah gripped her fiercely. Santhe clung to him as if he were the last thing anchoring her to the earth, and if she let go, she would float away to be lost among the stars.
“I love you,” he murmured into her hair. “So, you must leave me. You can, and you will.”
Santhe wept. The burn in her throat was such that she couldn’t even say the words back to him. She only held him tighter and hoped he could sense how deeply her feelings mirrored his own.