Chapter 50
I’m not sure I’m going to be able to articulate myself with our faces this close together. I need all of my wits to untangle what I’m thinking.
“Can I?” I ask, gesturing toward the edge of the bed on the other side of him.
His lips purse slightly. He reminds me of one of the hawks, when they’re trying to decide if they want to understand me, expression blank but willful.
But he sighs and lifts the covers. He stands first, then puts out a hand for me. “Slowly.”
I accept it, the lesser of two distractions, and climb up onto shaking legs. I’m still in my ruined nightgown.
My ruined dignity rears its head. “Let me get my robe…”
He goes to get it for me, leaving me perched on the edge of the bed, chewing my thumb, arranging my words. He sits next to me and puts it on my shoulders, but I jump up and start pacing. My legs are only a little wobbly now.
“In all my lives, I was brought before the Flame once. To bless my marriage to Cantor.”
“Cantor.” His voice is low. It’s not a question. I already told him the story, so he knows I’m referring to the second son of the Sovereign of Nyvos.
“Before we left for Nyvos, we were brought before the Eternal Flame to receive a blessing, a ceremony, to help ensure my children would be ignarian. It was a condition of the marriage. It’s a condition of all the princesses’ marriages to divinial lords.”
My father did a similar blessing for the empresses when they were pregnant, to bolster Ignar’s blood in their wombs in hopes of ensuring a sun-strong child.
“But it wasn’t just Cantor and me…a delegation from Nyvos was present to bear witness. With my father’s top advisors, guards, and priests, the numbers weren’t quite even, but they weren’t far off.” I raise my eyes, hoping he is following where this is leading.
“You think a group can get before the Flame through an engagement.”
“Yes.”
“Will the emperor agree to one fast enough?”
I nod. “I thought he only agreed to marry me to Cantor because I spent months seeding the idea with lords and advisors. But I saw a life where I lived through spring.” The months stand out because I only lived them once.
It feels like remembering my future. “I didn’t need to convince him. He was eager. He is eager.”
“And who exactly are you proposing to marry?”
I swallow. “You.”
Alaris blinks.
“I’m powerless…or they all think I am. My value to the throne will only ever be in the heirs I produce. Especially if they are in a shadoward province. Especially—”
“—if they are with a sovereign,” he finishes.
“Exactly.”
It’s no secret my father has been placing daughters in the highest houses he can for centuries. But every match has been with a third son, or a cousin. None of his grandchildren stand to rule significant lands.
This marriage would give my father the thing he’s been chasing for three thousand years: a real change in the balance created after the Incarnial Wars. The true expansion of ignarian lands and power in the provinces.
Handed to him by his least favorite daughter.
Alaris is quiet for a long moment. “You’d have to return. To the capital. Close to your mother. You wouldn’t be able to wait here behind the wards.”
“I know.” It doesn’t matter how many guards I have at the palace, or locks. Death slipped in through cracks no guard could seal.
“That’s not all, Ly. You’d be in the chamber when we attack. It isn’t safe.”
“This is the least dangerous way for you to get to the Flame.” I give a weak shrug and smile. “If you die, I’ll never be safe anyway.”
“You would be if I succeeded,” he says softly. “If the emperor is dead, you won’t have to be afraid.”
I take a moment to piece together what he’s saying. “If the emperor is dead…and you’re dead? Don’t say that!”
“I’m prepared to die, Lysandra,” he says, his eyes calm. Serene, even. “Whatever it takes.”
I don’t like that look. Panic flares. I walk straight up to him, sticking my face right in his, our eyes close to level since he’s sitting on the bed.
“You’re not going to die, Alaris. You’re going to keep me safe when we go to the palace, and you’re going to marry me. And that’s final.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I thought you said this was just an engagement.”
“I didn’t mean…that was an accident.” I flame red. “That’s not the point! This is the best possible way to the Flame. The risk to me is well worth it.”
I’m staring into the eyes of the man who’s kept me safe, when no one else could. And yet, I’m also looking at a dead man, because the path he’s on leads to ruin.
His expression stays perfectly still.
Impossible man.
I whirl. “I’m going to tell Karns. He’ll agree with me—”
“Wait.” He grabs my hand, his head hanging down. He looks up, lips curling into a tentative smile. “Fine. Lysandra Ignaros, will you take the most notorious lord in the provinces as your husband?”
“I will.” My heart jumps, which I decide is relief and only relief, as my lips twitch up. “There is no time to waste. Can we call a meeting?”
Flora brings me food and helps me dress. She braids my hair in a tight coil at the back of my head and ties a scarf over it. The weight of it surprises me after all these weeks with it short.
Alaris walks me to the office. His hand hovers at the small of my back like he’s still afraid I might fall over.
We open the door onto Dashol, Karns, and Nykiri, already gathered around the desk, ruffled hair and thick voices betraying the early hour.
Dashol is mid-sentence, but the moment he sees me he stops.
Nykiri glares at me, arms crossed. No doubt she’s guessed the scene I caused yesterday was due to the oraculi.
I don’t want to assume that scowl on her face is out of concern for me, but she might be worried blame will fall on her.
I give her a small smile as encouragement.
Without her, I wouldn’t have seen what I needed to see.
She shifts her attention to the desk, then the window.
“Lyra.” Dashol looks me over, scarf to boots. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I smile shyly. “And about that…I really should reintroduce myself. My name is Lysandra Ignaros. I am the seventh princess of the empire, fourteenth child of Emperor Belzas.”
Dashol’s mouth opens, closes, then opens again. He looks at Alaris, who gives a single nod.
Nykiri scowls harder at the window.
Karns takes off his glasses and gives them a wipe, then puts them back on, his face strained. “Princess Lysandra. We are honored to host you.”
I can’t imagine Karns is thrilled at the idea of hosting royalty by surprise. “The honor has been all mine. And just Ly is fine.”
Alaris walks farther into the office and pulls out a chair for me, which I accept. He puts his hands on the back. “Ly has a plan.”
I skip the parts about reliving past lives and deaths and tell them about the engagement ceremony before the flame. I explain my father’s reaction on my birthday and how eager he is to marry me off.
I’ve watched how my father behaved in more lives now. I am confident he will agree to make me Alaris’s bride.
Interest, then determination, grows on each of their faces. I can practically see their minds working.
“We need a cover story,” Karns says, as soon as I finish. “One that explains where you’ve been all these months and how you met Alaris. Give me an hour.”
While Karns goes off by himself, muttering with a notepad, the rest of us work on a list of names.
I describe the delegation from Nyvos as best I can—a group of soldiers or servants won’t be welcomed to witness the ceremony.
Dashol writes names, crosses them out, then writes them again, trying to decide who to have in the chamber and who should wait outside it to hold our exit.
Nykiri sits on the windowsill with her arms crossed, and Alaris stands behind me with one hand on the back of my chair, close enough that I can feel the cool air that surrounds him.
We work until Karns slaps his pen down, drawing our eyes to him. “I’m ready. Your attention, please.”
We settle in front of a map of the continent as he raps a pointer on Arastos. “It is well known that Alaris went to visit his cousin a month ago and took his time returning.”
Alaris’s ill-fated trip to test his shadowgates against the palace wards…the trip that cost three lives and left his power in tatters.
Karns draws the pointer toward a sketch of a castle and stops it in a forested area.
“On his way back, he was delayed. He encountered an encampment of criminals and learned they were waiting to receive a kidnapped noble being transported into Arastos. He sent his soldiers to uncover more. After a few weeks of investigation, the soldiers came back with the location of the captive.” He smacks the pointer on the province between Arastos and Ignos. “Sophys.”
“Why Sophys?” Nykiri asks.
“Questions at the end,” Karns replies.
I press my lips together. I am glad I am not the one who opened my mouth first.
“Seven days ago, Alaris set out with a company in secret.” Karns’s pointer traces a line from Arastos to Sophys.
“He found the rest of the criminal band, killed them all, and rescued the noble, only to discover the person they had taken was”—he swings his pointer to me—“Princess Lysandra, the emperor’s youngest daughter.
Far from home, scared, but otherwise unharmed.
Kidnapped from her room four months ago and moved from place to place ever since. ”
I stare down the stick, entranced. This lie of a life where I was taken against my will is simpler and more believable than the truth.
“The rescue is happening right now.” Karns slings the pointer over his shoulder.
“Alaris just found Lysandra. This evening, he will send a hawk to the emperor with a coded message explaining the situation. And in two days’ time, he will arrive at the capital with the princess.
Not only to deliver her, but also to ask for her hand in marriage. ”
“What if someone reports they saw Alaris here in Arastos when he was supposed to be on the road?” Dashol asks.
Karns is ready. “We’ll lock down the castle immediately. No uncontrolled messages in or out. Anyone the emperor sends will only leave with the right answers. The issue is if he tries to verify the route, but that would take riders weeks.
“And for the next two days, we will make the story true…tomorrow morning, our group will use the shadowgates to travel to Sophys and ride all day to the house of Lady Vesper for an overnight stay. Then, the company will travel the roads to the capital, in the open, so the emperor’s own watchers have time to spot them and report their movements. ”
It is not a perfect plan. Plenty of witnesses could contradict our story. But facts take time to find and untangle. The shadowgates give us an impossible advantage to move faster than information. All the emperor’s eyes will show him is his daughter, unharmed, escorted by a sovereign.
Any other explanation would be stranger than the story we hand him.
We don’t actually need to reach the altar—provincial law requires the wedding take place in Arastos for my children to be heirs here. We just have to get him to confirm the engagement and perform the blessing before riders can make it to Arastos and back.
“What about Drina?” I ask.
“Her last direct contact with the palace was when the people of Culdridge were here,” Alaris says. “She uses birds with coded messages in between. The hawks catch and release them so we can check the messages first. We will detain her, in case she tries another method.”
“On it.” Dashol nods.
Dashol and Alaris leave to take care of Drina and prepare the other combatants. Nykiri slips through the mirror to select weapons that can be concealed and brought into the chamber for the ceremony, while Karns goes to lock down the castle.
He leaves me with his notepad to practice my story, then returns later to quiz me on it.
“How were you taken from the capital?”
“On the river.” The story isn’t too dissimilar from the real one, but instead of going seaward toward Delvos, it has me traveling mountainward toward Sophys in the captors’ boat.
“Where were you kept?”
“I was moved between underground locations by carriage. I was rescued from a cellar.”
“How long were you there?”
“I’m not sure; weeks in some places, days in others. They moved me a lot.”
“Did you see the faces of your captors?”
“Yes, I was mostly cared for by a woman with gray hair. And a man with a beard. There were others, but I didn’t see them.”
“What did you eat?”
I blink. “That wasn’t on the list. Do you think they’ll ask that?”
“Your father could ask anything. We need to be prepared.”
“My father isn’t likely to be the one with the questions.” The emperor is more the type for long silences and flames if he doesn’t like something presented to him. “Captain Orso is.”
“Then if Captain Orso asks you what you ate, what you wore, where you slept, are you going to be able to lie convincingly? Actually…” Karns eyes my scarf, perhaps remembering how many months I spent lying to him. He adjusts his glasses. “I think you’ll be fine. Back to the list.”
When he’s satisfied I know all the answers he’s provided, he offers to walk me back to Alaris’s bedroom.
It’s a sweet and unexpected offer from Karns.
I don’t know whether he simply noticed I always have an escort or if Dashol or Alaris tipped him off that I would like one.
Karns doesn’t strike me as a warrior, and I’m not sure what he would be able to do if the masked man showed up, but I accept the company over the silent hallway.
I’ve been around Karns daily these past weeks but feel surprisingly shy as we walk together down the corridor. We’ve never really socialized.
He seems unbothered, his hands behind his back, his expression as prim as ever.
“On second thought, my father will question part of the story,” I say at the door. “That Alaris killed everyone and there is no one left to punish. Don’t you think that’s a bit neat?”
Karns considers me, his eyes flat behind his glasses, calculating. “It is. Evidence would help.” Then one corner of his mouth moves, barely. “I’ll rustle up some body parts.”
For a second, he reminds me of Siro.
We part on that.