Chapter 52
I crowd into the office with thirty men and women holding travel bags and riding gear.
They all look like they have been on the road for days.
Dirt covers collars and cuffs, rubbed across cheekbones and boots.
Dashol has a scrape on his jaw that wasn’t there yesterday, and there are a few black eyes.
Only Karns looks as neat and put together as ever, his job to stay here and make sure any attempts to validate Alaris’s whereabouts get the right answer.
Flora helped me rub a layer of dirt all over, turning my freshly un-charcoaled hair dingy before we wrapped it in a scarf.
I’m dressed like a woman rescued and clothed in whatever her saviors had on hand: a man’s tunic that hangs past my hips, trousers cinched with a cord at the waist, and boots two sizes too large that rub at my heels with every step.
Karns gives us a final briefing, reminding us of our cover story.
Everyone has to tell the same tale about the last few weeks.
Our company is larger than what will be allowed into the chamber, with the hope that at least ten of the men with noble blood and higher positions in Arastos will be witnesses, while the other twenty hold our exit.
I recognize some of the grim faces from around the castle, but most I have never seen before. One man in the line catches my eye. He is fit, with a hawkish look about him. His riding outfit makes it clear he’s noble.
“My cousin, Orent,” Alaris says, sidling up to me and following my eyes. “I fetched him from his castle this morning.”
His cousin. The true heir of Arastos, the one whose house and title Alaris borrowed. I wonder how he feels about an incarnial flying down and taking his place. He looks nothing but focused. Determined.
I find it hard to meet Alaris’s eyes. I glance up at his earring, that glinting point at his jaw hiding so much.
“Here,” Alaris says, passing me something. “Tie it under your tunic.”
He strolls back to the front of the room. My hand drifts to where the voidstone usually hangs, missing its familiar weight.
I look down into my hand and see the moonstone dagger in its sheath. I never made it back to the aviary to retrieve it. My chest warms. I’m glad to have this as a memento…and a weapon. I tie it to my belt loop.
Alaris steps in front of the gathered crew, and all eyes go to him.
“Our only goal for the next two days is the safe delivery of the recovered captive into royal hands. From the moment we step outside this office, we will not speak of our true purpose, but we all know what is at stake. We will succeed, because if we fail, we die, and the world dies with us.”
The air in front of the office door splits, bright at the edges, dark void at the center. My stomach still drops at the sight of it.
“You’ll go after me,” Dashol says, guiding me to the end of the assembling line. “We’ve all had a lot more time to drill scenarios, so if you get lost, just look to Alaris or me.”
I nod and grip the handle of my bag. We shuffle forward, as person after person steps toward the dark opening and disappears.
We reach the front. Dashol claps Karns on the shoulder, which only earns a scowl, nods to Alaris, and steps through.
Karns rights himself and straightens his vest and glasses. “I look forward to your return, Lysandra.”
From Karns, the words are practically sappy. Plus, the implication that I will return here makes me want to hug him.
I don’t think he would appreciate that, so I just smile. “Thank you, Karns. I look forward to it too. Tell Siro the same for me.”
I haven’t been back to the greenhouse since the day before Noctus, but I’m sure the crystalline lobell buds are poking through their twisted leaves, ready to harvest. Siro can take it from here.
Then I meet Alaris’s eyes. His face is stone, his dark gaze drinking me in, like we have all the time in the world. Is he looking for fear? Or expecting me to change my mind?
I lift my chin. He doesn’t need to worry about me right now. I ignore my pounding heart and step through the gate.
The void is less frightening now that I’ve been through it a few times. I hold my breath through the endless dark and sucking feeling, trusting that I’ll make it to the other side. Then stone and pine needles crunch under my boots, and I stagger forward into gray morning woods.
The forest wavers and tilts, and I stumble.
Travel through the shadowgate appears to be more difficult when you go farther, and it doesn’t look like I’m the only one impacted.
Some members of the group are steadier than others.
Nykiri looks fine, while Dashol puts a hand on a tree trunk, breathing through his nose.
I turn back, expecting Alaris, but see nothing but trees.
Then, to my right, the air bursts open, and he emerges astride his midnight steed.
Hawks fly out behind him, screeching and dispersing into the woods.
Even though his black cloak and face are dirtied, he doesn’t look like one of us.
With his dark hair flying, his ringed fingers on the reins, and the jewel glinting at his ear, he looks like a sovereign.
Or a god. Or the immortal he is, just smeared with a bit of dust. Seeing the actual heir next to him makes it even clearer that he was never just an ordinary divinial lord.
“With me.” He brings the horse alongside me and reaches down. His hand closes around my waist and pulls me off the ground, setting me in front of him. I allow myself to keep contact with his chest, grateful for the cradle of his arms as I continue to find my center.
We ride at the front of the company, leading them through the woods, until we reach a woman dressed in plain clothes minding a herd of horses. She gives Alaris a nod, and the group moves as one to saddle and mount.
“Remember,” Alaris says, close to my ear. “Vesper’s husband is loyal to the emperor, as most are in Sophys. From here on out, eyes could be on us.”
We ride hard all day through unfamiliar terrain.
The trees are tall pines, with paler bark and needles than in Arastos, spaced far enough apart to show the sky.
The air is warm, as if we changed seasons in addition to provinces.
For hours, the only sound is pounding hooves. We rest the horses once, then continue.
The trees open to scrubland. By the time we reach a road, the sun starts to set. We ride the last stretch in graying light.
A grand estate comes into view, the grounds surrounded by a low wall. It’s all beige, with the exception of a huge brass eye mounted above the doors.
We’re entering a house of the goddess of truth, absolutely drenched in lies.
The front gate opens for us, and we ride to the entrance. Stable hands with lanterns emerge and take the horses’ reins. I glance over the company and see the effect we’ve created—any scouts that saw this bedraggled group riding up would believe we’ve been traveling for weeks.
A woman with luscious honey curls appears between the lanterns in the doorway.
The woman from Somnus. Vesper.
Her bright purple eyes and dimple are just as I remember them, giving her a permanent look of mischief. Her gaze lands on me briefly but moves on without any sign of recognition.
A man joins her. He is immaculately dressed in pale linen, with a posture so straight he and Karns could compare notes, and a sour expression.
Alaris dismounts and lifts me down after, holding my waist only long enough to set me on my feet. He sweeps toward the doorway, arms wide.
“Lord Folten,” he croons. “Thank you so much for receiving us on short notice. Wonderful to see both you and your beautiful wife.”
Vesper preens, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. Alaris accepts it and kisses it for longer than propriety requires. Vesper giggles, while Folten’s nose wrinkles.
“My house is open to you, Sovereign,” Folten says, in a stern tone that conveys the opposite. “We get too few visitors. Fewer still in such a state.”
“Ah, I apologize, there were some unforeseen circumstances that have us arriving like beggars at your door.”
Folten sniffs, his eyes moving over the ragged company and settling on me.
“Allow me to introduce the lovely Lady Maren,” Alaris says without missing a beat.
Since the palace chose to keep my disappearance secret, we all agreed that I should travel under a cover name and hide my hair. I curtsy, keeping my eyes low.
“She’s had a hard few weeks, so we’d appreciate your hospitality, and your discretion.” He glances over at the stable hands pointedly.
“Of course. Come in,” Folten says, in a flat tone that suggests he wishes we wouldn’t.
Vesper steps forward. “You must be worn through. I’ll show you to your rooms.”
She leads us through an empty entry, the smooth beige stone only broken up by lanterns, and guides us up a wide stone staircase.
“Lord Alaris,” she says, “since it’s so late, I’ve arranged for food to be brought straight to each of the rooms. Will that do?”
“Your consideration is only matched by your beauty,” he says.
Vesper bats her lashes.
His saccharine comments used to turn my stomach, but now I just want to tell him to lay off so Lord Folten doesn’t kick us out.
I already knew his charm was a performance, a rebel lord hiding his intentions behind faked flirtation and indulgence.
But now I have to remeasure the distance between the truth and the lie.
Alaris isn’t really even a lord. He said he was so unconcerned with worldly things, he sometimes didn’t return to the ground for centuries.
How can I relate to something so ancient? Why would he waste even a moment on me? Nerves dance in my stomach.
I shake my head. I have to trust what I’ve seen behind closed doors. He didn’t fill his room with beautiful things, and bring me bundles of food from foreign markets, for his reputation.
He’s still Alaris.
Vesper leads us down a corridor of pale stone archways, her voice carrying as she tells staff that her guests require privacy and are not to be disturbed after their meals are delivered.
This house is bare, with no tapestries or carvings or paintings or rugs. I spot bookshelves through a doorway, running floor to ceiling, but even those have been stripped of their color, their spines various shades of beige.
Vesper looked more at home against the backdrop of the Somnus decorations. Even though she’s not dressed garishly, with a violet dress and a few bracelets glinting on her wrist, she looks completely out of place here.
She opens door after door, and our people file in. As the group dwindles down, I glance at Alaris but receive no cue that one of the rooms is for me.
When it’s just the two of us left, Vesper turns and clasps her hands. “Now for our sovereign and his lovely lady guest, I’m afraid we’re out of rooms in this wing. Come with me.”
She guides us up a narrower staircase. As we get to the corridor on the next floor, the difference is immediate: the plush rug, curling gold sconces, and rich tapestries are a sharp contrast to the bare stone of the rest of the house.
“This is where my personal guests stay when they visit,” she says. “I hope you won’t mind the furnishings, I’m the one who decorated it.” She rolls her eyes with a slight smile. “My husband always feels the need to name that.”
She takes us down the short corridor—there are only four doors, two on one side, and two on the other.
“You’re the only guests up here, so you’ll have complete privacy. For our Lady Maren…” She opens the first door for me.
The room is sumptuous, with candles and lanterns casting a glow on the rose-colored bedspread and plum walls.
“And Lord Alaris, I’ll take you to yours. I’ll be back in just a moment, Lady Maren, to deliver your meal.”
I see her honey head tip up just before the door shuts, giving me one final image of the pair of them in profile. They’re both so beautiful. I stare at the closed door as jealousy pangs through me. I want to snatch open the door and see if he really goes straight to his room. Or if she joins him…
It’s silly, really. From everything he’s told me, he and Vesper are not only allies but old friends. But she’s so beautiful and free. And imagining going to bed without another word between us feels wrong, when I’m so used to…
Sleeping in his room. Seeing him first thing in the morning. Having him check in on me at night if anything significant happened.
Ugh.
I walk straight to the bed and throw myself on it, remembering too late how dirty my clothes are. My lower half aches from the horse. I tried, the whole ride, not to pay attention to how his strong chest felt behind me, how good it felt to be in his arms…
Ugh, ugh.
I slam a pink pillow on top of my face, trying to muffle these unhelpful thoughts. Or myself.
We are on a deadly mission. I can handle not saying goodnight.
I think of him handing me the moonstone dagger and running his fingers through my hair.
Get. A. Grip, Lysandra, I think to myself. Or I will personally ensure this is your last life.
I’m saved from myself by a knock on the door. I open it to honey blonde and a dimpled smile.
“Oh, thank you.” I widen the door for Vesper as she swoops in with a dinner tray. “You really didn’t have to bring it yourself.”
“I wanted to,” she says. “After all, I’d like to keep up the tradition of you and me having private chats.”
I’m glad she can’t see my expression as she walks the tray over to the table. She sets it down and removes the cover, revealing steaming slices of meat, bread, and soup.
She turns to me, hands behind her back. “I won’t keep you, because the hour is already late. But there are a few things I simply must tell you, to be a good hostess.”
“Alright…” Something about her energy seems overly exuberant, her stained lips curving with pure delight.
“No one else will come up here tonight. These rooms are warded against sound, so no one can hear anything happening inside.” She points behind me.
“There is a door at the back of that wardrobe that connects to the adjoining room where your travel companion is staying. And the last piece of information, in case you didn’t know it yet, is that he actually doesn’t need to sleep. ”
My eyes fly wide and my face instantly catches fire at how these facts fit together. “Uhh…it’s not like that between us…”
“I know, I could tell.” She shrugs. “Some people just need extra help. I can tell that you, like him, are one of those people. To your credit, I thought you were the more reasonable target.”
I open my mouth, but she isn’t finished.
“Prophecy isn’t my specialty.” Her purple eyes glint as she steps closer. “But I saw something between the two of you on Somnus. That’s why I gave you the mask and the push you needed.” She reaches out and pats my shoulder gently. “Consider this push number two. What you do with it is up to you.”
She walks past me to the door and waggles her fingers over her shoulder. “I look forward to getting to know you better when this is all over, Lysandra.”