Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
The bed is empty when I wake. The clammy blanket of Red Root still clings to my eyes and senses as I roll over in the bed but the absence of that abrasive bond already tells me what I need to know. My hand reaches to where Idris had been and finds nothing but empty sheets.
Frowning, I ease upright and rub my eyes. I stretch out my neck as I slide to the edge of the bed, bare toes dropping onto the fluffy red rug on the floor. Sunshine slips through the edges of the curtains, the strong beams of yellow dotted with glittering, dancing dust.
What time is it? Where’s Idris?
I quickly wash my face and change into one of my favourite green tunics – one with a high neck to cover the worst of my bruising.
I fix my hair into its usual low ponytail and finish the look with a couple of pretty green and gold pins, a few simple bracelets and plain emerald earrings and head out of my bedroom. A perfectly put-together Maestrus.
I leave my room, about to head down the stairs for breakfast when I hear a commotion.
It’s almost frantic. Goosebumps thrive on my arms; my throat goes dry and my toes itch.
I’ve found Idris. I continue down the hall, heading for a bedroom.
Arriving at Lysa’s door, I’m stunned by the mess inside.
Tahira and Idris are arguing in hushed voices.
Royah is scowling as she examines every floorboard and scrap of furniture for hidden compartments.
Tahira holds something in her hands and jabs furiously at Idris.
“Morning.” I announce myself, questions bristling on my tongue. Their heads all turn.
“Renza!” Tahira sounds almost rageful and her brown eyes are burning.
“How did you sleep?” Idris counters, throwing pointed glares at Tahira.
“What’s happened?” I ask, throat thick and pulse pounding as I scan the mayhem in Lysa’s room.
“Your witch of a cousin has stolen my men!” roars Tahira. I blink as a frown forms on my face.
“Lysa and Bashran disappeared in the middle of the night,” Idris explains more temperately before I can respond. “They took a third of Tahira’s men with them, not to mention over half the ships in the harbour. They headed west.”
To the Holy States.
“You don’t even look surprised!” seethes Tahira.
“Maineri betrayals are no longer surprising,” I answer simply, raising a hand to rub my brow.
“This is the fourth time you’ve harboured a traitor under your own roof!” Tahira snarls.
Idris immediately steps in, words hot. “Bashran is your man. The Coari are your soldiers.”
Tahira flinches like he’s slapped her. Her eyes narrow before she huffs, marching the few paces between us and slams the thick pile of papers from her fingers to mine.
“Look at these! Proof she’s been planning this betrayal for weeks!” Tahira snaps.
Letters. Lots and lots of letters.
My throat tightens, my pulse picking up. I didn’t know she’d been receiving letters.
I study them, and my stomach drops like a stone as I look over the seals.
Some of the older letters have wax seals in black and white, but they aren’t from any cardinal or even the Holy Mother herself – their official seal being a black and white striped flag with a gold three-headed eagle.
This is the seal from house Rizaro, a white swan on a black background.
I sit on the floor with a fist full of letters from the Rizaro family, the writing on the front instantly, sickeningly familiar.
Nouis.
“Renza?” Idris’s voice breaks through the ringing. I gasp for breath but I can’t catch it. There isn’t enough air in my lungs.
I take the oldest letter I can find, open it up and scan its contents.
It’s sickening. It’s full of Nouis’s manipulative words, promises of enough wealth and power to get back at Lysa’s mother.
To get her revenge. It is a masterclass in seduction, in slowly poisoning your victim with honey. I want to gag.
Lysa’s answers aren’t here, for obvious reasons, but she’s kept the letters she received.
Even when she came to Halice the letters didn’t stop.
Nouis simply switched his signet to hide where the messages were truly coming from.
Each one is a carefully crafted manipulation – favouring him and betraying me.
To take everything she’s ever wanted for herself, the painful pitfall of any Di Maineri.
I didn’t know she was receiving any letters. Certainly not like this.
How could I have missed that?
“I should’ve warned her,” I whisper, hand going to my mouth in horror at the tapestry of tricks and exploitation on the pages between my fingers.
“She’s her own woman, Renza,” Tahira answers remorselessly.
“Nouis is a manipulative, narcissistic monster! You have no idea how hard it is to see the web he spins around you until it’s far, far too late!” I snap back at her through ragged breaths. “Lysa is only nineteen! Nouis is a master at deceiving people, particularly young, unsuspecting women.”
“Lysa is a Di Maineri,” says Idris. “She’s far from unsuspecting.”
“Yet she did it anyway!” scowls Tahira.
“You don’t think she’s in love with him, do you?” asks Royah.
My stomach bottoms out and my knees go weak at the cold, fresh horror spreading through my veins. I grab hold of the nearest chair, slowing sinking into its embrace as I stare at the letters in abject horror.
I should’ve done more. I should’ve prepared her. Coming here, getting the wider family involved in this war … I should’ve known Nouis would do something like this. Try and find a weak target.
“I can’t believe Bash would do this.” Idris rakes both hands through his hair in disbelief, his voice cracking a little.
“Well, he did.” Royah scowls, the pain of the betrayal eating up her face as she clenches her fist.
“But why? Why would he betray us like this?” Idris’s questions are almost pleading. The idea of one of his most trusted friends being a turncoat bites deep.
“Lysa has been chasing him for weeks. She’s had plenty of time to sink her hooks in,” Tahira says pointedly.
“Bash has never been turned by words or promises. He was once offered more gold than he could spend in a lifetime to simply walk away, and he refused. I was there.” Royah scowls, hand going to an old scar on her arm tastefully covered by vivid tattooed flowers.
“Lysa’s a Di Maineri. Wealthy, educated, beautiful,” I say quietly, the words feeling faint as I picture Lysa deep in the middle of Nouis’s poisonous web. “She would’ve persuaded him.”
“I thought she was his victim?” challenged Tahira hotly.
“This is not Renza’s fault. She’s been betrayed too!” Idris snaps.
My throat thickens; my mouth turns dry.
“Who else knows?” I ask Idris quietly.
“With the number of people that went missing? Everyone, soon enough,” Royah answers for him, her tone bitter.
“Did they take anything with them? Other than the ships?” I ask quietly.
“Rations for the journey, and the explosives Tahira and Royah confiscated – but people don’t know about that part,” says Idris quietly.
My stomach turns, my head hurts. Guilt wraps its claws around my innards and squeezes tightly.
“Well,” Royah says hotly, “we can bitch and moan about this all we like, but that doesn’t fix anything. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
“Fight,” Tahira answers with fire in her eyes. “Find the traitors and make them pay.”
With that, the two warriors storm away and out of my house. I let out a deep breath, throat tightening with uncertainty.
“By the time she got here, it was already too late. The plan was in motion,” Idris says, walking over and taking the letters out of my hands. He’s right of course. More than he knows. But that only makes me feel worse.
“Idris, there’s something I need to tell you.”