Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
The sky is on fire. A rippling dance of amber and carmine falls from the heavens as the sun slowly slips away from the day.
The air is cool, the shadows oddly clammy as I head down the path towards my front door.
Lysa is at my side but doesn’t say a word.
I’m grateful for the silence, not sure my dry throat could manage to summon another word.
I slip inside, exhaustion wrapping a vice-like grip around my eyes and throat. My head feels full of tar. I rub my eyes, sucking in a deep breath.
“Renza? That you?” calls Giulia from the living room.
“It’s us!” Lysa calls back brightly, following the noise.
She looks over her shoulder, offering me a wink before disappearing into the living room.
I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes, intensely thankful for even this brief moment of silence and stillness.
Nothing needed from me, nothing wanted from me. No pressure, no eyes, no work.
A stolen moment of absolute nothingness.
I take a deep breath. Lingering any longer will bring Giulia searching for me. So I plaster a smile onto my face and force a levity into my step as I stride towards the living room.
Sunset pours into the room, bathing Royah and Giulia who sit by the window around a small table.
It’s covered in strange implements and pigments I don’t understand.
Lysa is at the drinks cabinet with two shallow crystal glasses in her hands.
She walks over, handing one to me without another word before plucking a book from our shelves and sinking onto the sofa.
I walk over to Giulia, the question already brimming on my tongue.
“What is all this?” I ask.
“I’m getting a tattoo,” Giulia says, chuckling. My mouth falls open in shock as Royah cackles with delight.
“Seriously?” I almost want to laugh. I am so impressed with my sister.
“Such white skin. Only time I’ve tattooed someone so pale is Idris, and he was such a baby about it.” Royah snorts. “This one will be fun, though – an actual design not just a scorpion tail.”
“What are you getting?” I ask.
“Zinnia flowers,” Giulia says, holding up a piece of paper. “Michelle drew this for me, remember?”
I take the paper from her, a welcome, gentle hug tightening around my heart as a sappy smile flirts with the corner of my mouth.
I remember when Giulia got this beautiful drawing delivered to her, along with the note requesting another date.
Giulia had been practically giddy, walking on air for an entire day.
The throes of a fresh, unburdened crush was her euphoria, her smile so bright it could light the city from dusk till dawn.
“It’s beautiful work,” Royah says brightly. “It will be such a cool piece!”
“It’s a surprise for Michelle. Don’t tell her,” Giulia says seriously.
“A surprise? Where exactly are you getting it?” laughs Lysa from the couch.
“Not like that!” Giulia rolls her eyes at our cousin. “It’s going around my wrist, so I know she’s always with me even when she can’t hold my hand.”
“That’s so lovely.” I beam as Royah finishes setting out her equipment.
“Okay, so today we’ll start with the outline,” Royah says excitedly, rubbing her hands. “Go wash your wrists to be sure they’re clean. Oh, and use the bathroom and things. You’ll be sitting for a while.”
“Yes, ma’am,” says Giulia, hopping up and darting into the hall.
“How have you been?” I ask, sitting down next to the warrior and her needles. Royah beams, pushing her dark braids over her shoulder and leaning back.
“Working hard.” She shrugs. “It was nice to go back to Annen for a bit. See some familiar faces. I was able to bring back some inks for Michelle that she is loving. It should keep her occupied for a little while yet!”
“That’s great. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Although … can I ask you a question?” I say, swirling the contents of my wine around the bottom of my glass. Royah nods, one eyebrow cocked in anticipation.
“How do your people really feel about the new trade relationship with Halice? And indeed so much royal presence in our city?”
“By the people do you mean the King?” asks Royah with a wry snort. I shrug, aiming for nonchalance as I watch her movements. Royah chuckles, picking up her own drink as she mulls the words for a long moment, eyes jumping out to the sky painted like fire’s last brilliance.
“You know, I don’t really know His Majesty well,” Royah says. “He’s the King and I’m just a mercenary. Only time we’ve even spoken is when I’m with Tahira.”
“But you know his views.”
“Don’t invite trouble, particularly right now,” Royah says quietly. “You have enough on your plate without thinking about the royal feelings of a strange monarch on another continent. The best thing you can do to earn his good opinion is win this war.”
I open my mouth to answer but Giulia’s horrified shriek hits me like an avalanche. I bolt to my feet, sprinting for the door before I register the thought. I speed into the corridor and see Giulia standing by one of the hall tables.
A hand is clamped to her mouth. She glares at an offending box open in her other, far outstretched hand. Royah is at her side somehow faster than I am, already searching for the threat or enemy.
“What is it?” Royah asks, reaching for the box.
“It’s … it’s…” Giulia swallows unhappily. Her blue eyes cut to me, and disgust twists into determination as she reaches for the box again, trying to pull it out of my view. I dart to her side, looking inside before she can hide it.
My heart stops. My throat closes up.
Inside the wooden box is a dead rat. Its head has been torn off and returned to the box next to its body, forced to look up at whoever opened it. The bloody body sits on a bed of writhing, wriggling magots. Stuck to the lid is a note.
One rat down, you’ll be next.
Vomit claws up my throat as my lungs shrink. I clamp both my hands over my mouth.
“Where did you get this?” Royah asks sharply.
“It was here on the table when I got here. I didn’t know what it was so I opened it,” Giulia answers, wringing her free hand. Royah closes the box with a loud thump and puts it back on the table.
“Ignore it,” Royah instructs, rubbing her back. “Don’t let it upset you or ruin the evening.”
My heart drops to my stomach, eyes still stuck on the now thankfully closed box.
“They got in the house.” I barely breathe the words, realising just how awful this is.
My sister lives here. They got in and left this, clearly intended for me, but it fell into her hands instead.
What if it’d been worse? What if she’d been hurt or killed?
My ears are ringing loudly. My heart is throbbing in my mouth.
Royah gets to her feet, her face a mask of determined stone as she places her hands on my shoulders. She gives me a gentle shake.
“Hey, you’re okay. Everyone is okay. These cowards played their hand. This was meant to unsettle you. Don’t let it,” Royah instructs, her tone strong and calm.
“Time for the staff to answer some questions,” Lysa says with lethal quietness before she picks up the box and whisks it towards the kitchens.
She starts shouting orders to gather all the staff.
I should go with her. I should be the one doing this …
but I can’t move my feet. My heart is spasming behind my eyes, my pulse galloping and screaming like thunder and smoke in my ears.
How are they both so calm? I swallow, but my mouth is dry and filled with sand. I blink hard as Royah gives me a gentle shake.
“Listen, let me go talk to Tahira. She’ll lend some men to guard you—”
“No.” The word jumps from my tongue so loudly I shock myself. I clear my throat and shake my head. “Thank you but no. I need to be protected by Halician City Guards.”
“But they got in—”
“I can’t be protected by outsiders. I can’t be the woman who ‘stole the city’ and then doesn’t trust those same people she took it from.
I’m the Halician Maestrus, I need to be protected by my own people.
” I shake my head, rubbing my throat as I try to catch up with the sputtering thoughts flying so quickly through my head that I struggle to catch them.
“Besides, people can’t know that there was an actual attack on my home or my person. It would spread too many ideas.”
Giulia meets my eyes. Our blue gaze twins as I hold firm against her silent argument for several long moments. Eventually she sighs, shoulders dropping and she gives a shallow nod.
“Okay,” she says softly, “but let’s look at the guards’ patrol patterns again. Look for blind spots. Royah, will you help with that?”
“Absolutely. In fact, we can talk it all through while I get this stencil sorted,” Royah offers.
“Great,” Giulia says, nodding as colour begins to return to her expression. “I’ll call for our head of security and let’s make sure this never happens again.”
Giulia and Royah spring into action while I force a shaking breath into my lungs, which seem to be fighting me. I drop a hand to the table, gripping the old, polished wood so tightly it might turn to splinters beneath my fingers.
I stare at my fingers as the ringing starts in my ears again. I force myself to let out a slow, blown breath. This is my fault. People are angry with me. I am the danger. I am the danger to my sister. My fair, amazing, brilliant sister.
How can I protect her when I am the danger?
A cold, sharp numbness creeps around my gut. It’s like there is cotton wool between me and the real world. I lift my jaw, an uneasy emptiness curling through my spirit for a long moment.
I don’t follow my sister and her friend. Instead, I go upstairs, put a spoonful of Red Root in my water, and go to bed, having the strength for nothing else and desperately craving the dark numbness of unconsciousness.