13. Raelyna #2
“Well . . .” I drawled, tilting my chin up as I met his gaze in a challenge.
“Your sister’s results . . . they were tampered with in the Astra Tech System.”
“First of all, it’s not possible to tamper with the results from the gods—everyone knows that. Secondly, even if it were, which it’s not . . .” I narrowed my eyes. “Why tell me?”
“For starters,” he replied casually, as though we were talking about our favorite dessert, rather than the act of conspiring against the king—should he be telling the truth. “She’s your sister.”
“I feel like now is a good time to mention that you still shouldn’t know that about me. You didn’t even know my name until earlier—” I halted my words, studying him with a new level of intensity.
His eyes twinkled with feigned shock.
“You already knew my name,” I confirmed, only to be met with silence. “I’m not sure what you think I can do with this information,” I retorted when it became blatantly obvious he had no intentions of affirming my statement.
“You have access to the king.” His statement was simple . . . harmless. And yet . . .
I scoffed. “No more than you do.” I gestured toward the markings on his uniform. His RSG ranking.
Silence.
He said nothing as he guided me along to the melody, the chords rising to a crescendo as we moved across the marbled tiles of the throne room.
I’d nearly forgotten we were surrounded by throngs of dancers as the lights of flame flickered in hues high above our heads.
I had long since learned to tune out the ever-present whirl of surveillance drones, but that didn’t stop my eyes from flicking up as one flew past us, concern washing through me as it hovered far too close for a few moments too long, before it flew on.
“And that doesn’t say much . . . If you truly believe that I have access to King Lucanus, you are more idiotic than I thought. I could easily go and tell Luc what I suspect you’re doing.”
“But you won’t,” he confirmed, and my eyes flashed as I met his eyes. “What do you remember of your own Marking Day? Did anything unusual occur afterward?”
Now it was my turn to stay silent, as I thought back to the past, to my Marking Day, over a century ago.
I slid into the seat, the cool leather chilling me as I sank into it. My head tilted to the left, watching as the priestess beside me tapped into the screen. Another priestess entered, walking around my side as she tightened firm straps across my wrists.
The buckles felt cool against my skin, and I frowned, wondering why I needed to be secured in place.
If this is what the gods wanted, then why were they so concerned about us staying in place? Why didn’t we worship them during the Marking Day ceremony? They said it was a gift, and yet most of us didn’t remember a thing until we woke up, markings on our skin and wings freshly emerged.
The day after I’d received my elemental mark, I’d received my first nosebleed, and the nausea that rolled through me in waves hadn’t lasted nearly as long back then. It hadn’t happened nearly as frequently. I’d even wondered at the time if it was normal for them to occur once you were marked.
I’d asked my mother once, but when she told me not to worry, that she was sure it was just a fluke, I’d stopped mentioning the episodes after that.
“No,” I replied hesitantly. “Nothing unusual happened.”
A wave of nausea rolled through me, my grip involuntarily tightening on his shoulder as I fought off the wave.
Not now. Literally, any time but now.
I caught the moment his eyes narrowed, picking up on the hardly discernible shift in my behavior. His eyes scanned my face before flickering down and focusing on my left arm.
“I need to go.” The words were said through gritted teeth, my head swimming as I begged for the song to end.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was a clear demand. One I did not have time for.
“Nothing,” I blatantly lied as my stomach rolled and I fought to stay upright. His arm tightened around my waist, his palm sliding up my back . . . in support.
As though he could tell from a quick glance that I couldn’t keep upright on my own.
Fucking embarrassing.
“How many affinities did you mark for?” I hardly registered the question as my mind began swimming. Finn was going to kill me if he discovered I was having yet another episode this week.
“Really, Blackwood? Now is so not the time,” I bit back. Weakly, I might add.
“Just answer my stars-damned question, Raelyna.”
My heart skipped a beat. My stomach rolled in pain.
“One,” I said as the song ended, and I thanked all five gods for the small mercy.
“Are you sure about that?”
“What type of question even is that?” I muttered as he led me off the dance floor. “I’ve had one elemental affinity for over a century. I’d say I’m pretty certain of my answer. Now, for the love of Astara, let me go, please.” The word was nearly a plea as he released my waist.
“It’s the type of question I think you should start asking,” he stated as he began to turn away. “Your sister’s markings were tampered with. Perhaps yours were too. Perhaps you should have other markings visible that aren’t there yet.”
“Perhaps you should drink less on the job,” I replied as my head pulsed with pain. “What you’re saying is insane.”
“Not insane . . . Just consider my words. Judging by the faint outlines on your forearm, I think it’s something you should consider.” His body turned from me, his footsteps taking him in the opposite direction.
What outline? I wanted to question, except another wave of nausea coursed through me, and it took every fiber in me to make it out of the throne room before I sagged against the wall, tilting my head toward the ceiling as I breathed deeply.
The ceiling seemed to stretch far into the abyss, my head spinning as the lights flickered in dizzy patterns.
Faintly, I could hear the swell of a soft melody playing in the air, the laughter floating from the throne room. But I could hardly focus as I reminded myself to take a deep breath.
In.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Out.