Chapter Thirty-Four
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Scarlett
I should have been relieved that Mira had survived the second Trial, that my plans were still in motion. Instead, I found myself searching the banquet hall for Severin.
He hadn’t attended the Trial, which wasn’t a surprise – his talents were always in demand – but I’d hoped he would be here tonight. Everyone else had taken time off from their usual duties – why couldn’t he have done the same?
Beside me, Odessa picked at her nails, bored now that Cassius had left the high table. Despite their antagonistic relationship, both had an appreciation for court antics – and a keen mind for ferreting out secrets. It had proven mildly entertaining to eavesdrop on their conversation, but I still would have preferred to spend the evening as Sabine. Perhaps I could even have occupied the empty seat next to Aric.
I watched him from a distance, conversing easily with the other candidates. A few had left, but the majority had stayed to enjoy the desserts being brought out from the kitchens: fruit puddings, savoury pies and bowls of fresh cream.
‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Odessa said with a superior little sigh. ‘How you always seem to come out of things unscathed.’
I didn’t bother to conceal my irritation as I turned to face her. ‘You’ll have to be more specific. I have no idea what you’re referring to.’
‘I’m referring to the governor, of course.’
I blinked in surprise. The truth was, I’d almost forgotten about Governor Halvor.
I was a second too slow to hide my reaction. Odessa smiled mirthlessly. ‘That poor man never stood a chance, did he?’
‘The governor made his own choices,’ I retorted. ‘It’s not my fault he’s rotting in the cells.’
‘Maybe not. But it’s your mother’s fault that he’s going to be executed.’
‘. . . What?’
‘You didn’t know.’ Odessa’s smile held an edge of cruelty. ‘Zandri convinced the emperor to make the governor’s death a part of the final Trial. Thought it would be dramatic .’
I shouldn’t have been rattled. But I was.
‘I spoke to him a few times,’ Odessa continued. ‘While you were busy ignoring him, the governor was asking about you – trying to discover ways of making you happy.’
The words hit home, but I shoved my guilt aside. I focused on anger instead.
‘You’re just resentful,’ I snapped, ‘because Cassius couldn’t care less about you. But at least you’re engaged to a royal. Marrying my brother gives you everything you’ve ever wanted: status, luxury, power—’
‘—not safety,’ Odessa corrected. ‘Not love.’
That gave me pause. Since when did Odessa worry about safety or love?
‘So what?’ I asked. ‘Safety is an illusion for people like us, and love . . . well, love is hardly a useful emotion.’
For a moment, it seemed like I’d stunned Odessa to silence. ‘Isn’t there anyone you love?’ she asked, sounding almost sad. ‘Someone who you would sacrifice everything for?’
I thought of my mother, with her cool face and hard eyes. My father and brothers, who were willing to cast me aside in the name of power. Then I thought of Severin. If I loved anyone, it would be him. But what Odessa described . . . I couldn’t fathom the feeling.
No, I almost said. There isn’t.
And yet—
‘Excuse me, Your Highness.’ The low, melodic voice made me turn too quickly; the contents of my goblet overflowed, spilling onto the table. ‘I believe we have a conversation to finish.’
Severin’s eyes glittered down at me, as if in amusement. You’re welcome, they seemed to say.
‘I believe we do,’ I replied, and for the first time all night, my smile was genuine.
Together, we left the hall behind. It was strange walking with Severin: it felt so familiar, but there was an element of uncertainty there, too.
‘I haven’t seen you for a while,’ I said cautiously. ‘Not since . . .’
‘Since the night Zandri’s servant fell to her death,’ Severin finished, an ironic twist to his lips. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, forcing me to stop as well. ‘How convenient that you’ve been impersonating Sabine ever since.’
I held his stare with an effort. It had been too much to hope that Severin wouldn’t realise what had happened to Sabine. Most likely, he believed that Zandri had murdered her – disposed of her for the sake of convenience.
But before I could decide what to say to fix this – if this even could be fixed – my eyes dropped to a dark stain on his vest.
‘You’re bleeding,’ I said, reaching for him instinctively.
He pulled back before I could make contact. ‘It’s not my blood.’
With a shiver, I understood. I had heard about the arrival of a boat packed with wounded soldiers from the Western Lands – but I hadn’t made the connection until now.
During the months I had spent on campaign with my father, Severin had often been summoned to the tents filled with wounded men. I had observed him from a distance, pausing beside their pallets, his eyes closed as he gazed into their futures. Most often, he would shake his head and move on, taking the healers with him.
It made sense, in a cold way. The healers couldn’t treat everyone effectively, and even assessing the severity of wounds took precious time. In a situation where men were dying all around, it was useful to have an Artisan directing resources.
I followed him up the staircase in silence, but when we turned the corner to my chambers, I stopped in my tracks. My usual set of guards were gone.
‘How did you . . .’ I didn’t bother to finish the question, not really needing to know the answer. It was enough that he had found a way for us to be alone.
Severin pushed open the bronze doors and I brushed past slowly, not wanting to take my eyes off him. Having him here, in my rooms, was impossibly dangerous. But, oh, how I wanted him.
Warm light filtered down from the candlelit chandelier, illuminating his ebony hair and casting dappled shadows across his bare arms. Secretly, I liked him best like this: when he was dressed in the Western-style clothes he preferred – today, a cherry-red vest with veins of golden thread, and tan pants made from a light, airy fabric I didn’t recognise.
Under normal circumstances, I would have ripped his clothes off by now. But these weren’t normal circumstances.
I couldn’t stop thinking about those soldiers, gasping out their last breaths, and Severin, forced to decide their fates. How had he endured it? Was it easier or harder to hold their lives in his hands, knowing they were responsible for killing his own people?
Severin crossed the receiving room slowly, his footfalls loud against the tiles. The sound echoed – everything echoed in here, like my chambers were as hollow as I sometimes felt.
His keen eyes took note of my careful distance. ‘You don’t need to worry, Scarlett. I don’t hold you responsible for your father’s deeds.’
‘What about my mother’s?’
Silence fell between us, tainted by everything I couldn’t say.
I wanted to tell Severin the truth about Sabine’s death, and my role in it. I wanted to trust him with the deepest, darkest parts of me. But if I did, how could I expect him not to run?
‘He’s going to be executed during the third Trial,’ I said, unthinkingly.
Severin went still. ‘The governor, you mean?’
‘Yes.’ I closed my eyes. ‘Apparently, it was my mother’s decision.’
My mother, who hated the Kalurians for turning against her. Who never missed an opportunity to strike back at her enemies.
‘Can you intervene?’
I had the odd urge to laugh. There I was, dreading sitting through this execution – and yet I hadn’t, not once, considered doing anything about it.
But Severin didn’t look at me like Odessa had, with such resentment and disdain. He looked at me like he had when he’d found me spread out on that ice: as if I was a miracle, a girl more innocent and delicate than I ever had been.
‘No,’ I said heavily, thinking of my mother. ‘I can’t intervene.’
I won’t intervene.
Though his expression didn’t shift, I knew that I’d disappointed him. ‘I understand you want Zandri’s approval, but—’
‘This isn’t about her approval . It’s about surviving this damn court.’
‘You can do that on your own.’
‘Is that your professional opinion? Because last I checked, you haven’t been able to tell me anything concrete about the future, except when you said I was about to become a contender. And that’s with Zandri’s help.’
Severin took a step towards me, then seemed to think better of it. He shook his head. ‘Not everything is about power.’
‘Maybe in other places,’ I said, more gently this time. ‘But the Ravalian Court is all I know.’
‘It doesn’t have to be.’
I raised an amused eyebrow. ‘Running away? Is that what you’re suggesting?’
‘It could allow us to be together,’ Severin said softly. ‘It might be the only way you have the freedom to make your own choices.’
‘I make my own choices now.’
Severin said nothing.
His silence infuriated me. I lifted my chin so that my eyes were almost level with his. ‘Not everything I do is about Zandri. She’s my mother, not my puppet master.’
‘Isn’t it possible she’s both?’ Before I could snap something back, Severin continued, ‘I have served Zandri for a long time. She isn’t selfless, Scarlett. Every task she’s given me has been motivated by self-interest.’
‘That isn’t true.’ I exhaled. ‘What about the night I drowned? Zandri sent you to help me – she was worried about my safety.’
Severin tilted his head. For a second, I glimpsed something like pity in his eyes. ‘Scarlett, my orders had nothing to do with ensuring your safety. Zandri wanted Roran to drown you.’
I barked out a laugh. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘It does.’ Severin paused, as if he was willing me to make the connection. ‘Think like Zandri. What does she value, even more than having a daughter?’
I refused to respond, but my mind answered his question all the same: having a daughter with power.
And my power over death had appeared after—
‘No.’ I shook my head firmly, as if I could shake away the implication. ‘Zandri is my mother. She wouldn’t risk my life.’
‘Wouldn’t she?’ Severin regarded me knowingly. ‘I told her what I’d Seen. She had every opportunity to stop Roran, and she chose not to. I’m sure she thought it was a relatively safe bet – that the magic in your blood would save your life, and you would find yourself changed for the better. But that outcome was only one possible future. I warned her there was a chance you wouldn’t survive.’
I shivered. That was what I remembered most clearly: the cold. Worse than my desperate, primal urge to breathe. Worse than the thud of Roran’s boots against the ice, his footsteps growing fainter as I sank deeper into the icy water.
Through bloodless lips, I said, ‘Zandri ordered you not to intervene.’
And you listened.
All this time, I’d thought Severin alone had tried to help me. That he, out of everyone at court, had cared whether I lived or died. But he had stood there, watching and waiting while I suffocated beneath the ice . . .
‘I wanted to help you.’ Severin’s eyes were filled with tenderness. ‘I would have, if I wasn’t trapped by Zandri’s orders. There was nothing I could do until you saved yourself.’
And I had. Against all the odds, I had survived – had returned from death, and brought some strange ability back with me. But I could have stayed dead, and my mother had known that. Had gambled with my life, because she had decided it was better to have a dead daughter than a daughter without blood magic.
I stiffened as Severin pulled me into his arms, but I allowed the embrace, leaning into him like I had so many times before. His chest was hard and warm against mine, and he smelt like sandalwood, familiar and comforting.
‘I never intended to tell you any of this,’ Severin murmured against my hair. His arms tightened around me, as if he could protect me from the truth. From the pain of it. ‘At first, I kept Zandri’s secrets for my own sake. But then . . . I couldn’t bear to hurt you.’
I pulled back to look at him. ‘So why did you?’
‘Because Zandri isn’t the person you want her to be. And one day soon, you’re going to see that.’ Severin’s jaw tightened, the tattoos on his cheeks becoming more pronounced: a smile and a snarl. ‘I’d rather that day come sooner. For all our sakes.’