Chapter 25
Afist plows into Dorian’s face, and I can’t move. Dorian is not a rebel sympathizer. That ribbon was planted on Dorian. Rhythe did it. He must have. And now he’s waiting for me to choose—betray Dorian or betray the alliance. The guard releases Dorian, letting him fall to the ground. Mae crumbles.
“Where did you get this?” Caelus snatches the ribbon, stepping forward.
“Sir, back. It’s not safe.”
Caelus shrugs the guard off, closing the distance between himself and Dorian, squatting over him. Dorian is hunched in a ball, sobbing at his knees, and I war with my choices. Rhythe’s stare burns my skin. But I won’t betray Dorian. I won’t.
“I’ve never known a more honest lowborn,” I tell Dreth. “Look at him. He doesn’t have a brave bone in his body.” Dorian lies there hardly moving, and it pins me with fear. “Someone is playing you. I never wrote a note.”
The truth is freeing and somehow also makes my insides quiver.
Caelus hands the ribbon to Dreth. “Burn it. Immediately. There’s nothing to see here.”
“Sir, he’s—”
“You’ve gotten false information. There are no witnesses.” Caelus turns to the crowd. “Are there? Will anyone step forward with proof this man has shown himself to sympathize with rebels?”
The streets are dead silent.
Kade steps forward. “When I was in the guard, I never trusted the Marshes. Slippery family if you ask me.”
“I asked for proof, soldier,” Caelus says.
Kade tries to march up the steps of the teahouse to him, but the guards stop him. “He’s a rebel rat,” Kade says. “Look at the ribbon. That’s your proof.”
Dorian’s foot twitches, and I let out the tiniest exhale.
“The ribbon could have come from you,” Caelus says, glaring Kade down. “You’re bolder than he is, clearly.”
“They’re going to kill him,” Mae trembles, sobbing harder. I pull her away from the commotion, which is quickly escalating.
Lira glances at us. “He’s lying,” she says under her breath.
“Speak up,” I urge her.
Lira folds her arms across her chest, the stiff fabric of her dress creasing at the elbows.
Her hair, which is always immaculately twisted, is fraying at the ends.
The scent of brine still clings to her—Saltblood to the bone.
“We’re not a good match,” she says, eyes darting to the others before settling on me again.
“But I’m not making an enemy of Kade. I want to survive. ”
I stare at her. I can’t force her to care. I can’t make her choose what’s right. But I can still get rid of Kade.
“I’d actually hoped to take him off your hands,” I say to her.
Lira blinks. “What?”
“You said it yourself—you’re not a good match,” I say it coolly as if my heart isn’t pounding like a war drum in my chest.
She studies me, searching for the trick. “You want Kade? Not the prince? Everyone wants the prince.”
“The heart wants what it wants.”
She looks at me with a crooked smile, almost amused.
“What are you planning?” she asks, glancing toward the rising shouts as the guards hold Kade back from getting near the prince.
When I say nothing, she adds, “He spent every moment we had together today talking about his time as a Mercyenforcer. He wouldn’t shut up.
We even kissed to try it out.” She gags.
“It was awful. Go ahead. Do whatever you want with him. He wasted my entire day. Now I have elimination to worry about.”
With one victory under my belt, I elbow my way through the crowd with Rhythe’s glare searing the back of me and look Dreth in his eyes. “It’s obvious someone planted this ribbon on Dorian. You can investigate that or let the actual troublemaker get away.”
Dreth’s chin rises. His guards wait for his word. He doesn’t respond right away. But when he winds his fist in the air, calling off his guards, air punches into my lungs.
“Second elimination at Evergild Gardens just inside the Citadel gates in twenty minutes,” he says before turning to go. Caelus pales.
“Wait!” Mae screams. “What about us?”
Dreth’s chin slides over his shoulder, watching as Mae and I help Dorian back onto his feet. The back of his head is as bloody as the front. He must have hit it on his way down.
“He needs to see someone about his wounds,” I say, realizing Mae is right about Dorian. “He can’t come to elimination.”
Dreth’s jaw clenches.
“Kiss him, Mae,” I say. “Show him. Right now.”
Mae presses her tear-streaked face to Dorian’s, kissing him. She holds him, sobbing quietly against him. Then she holds his head in her hands. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”
“Is it enough?” I ask Dreth, who watches coldly. “Does it prove, what was it called?”
“Meaningful affection,” Talia shouts from the thinning crowd. Many have moved on, but the contestants are still there, except Rhythe. He’s gone.
“Does it count?” I ask.
Caelus watches with folded arms, still pale. Elimination is next for us too. I’m not ready. Dreth grunts with a reluctant chin up in agreement before leaving.