Chapter 5
Thud. Arphaxad embedded a dagger in the side of a half-rotten tree stump. The hilt quivered in the waning light.
“How arrogant do you have to be to think that this...this ridiculous scheme will accomplish anything except war and bloodshed?” Arphaxad pulled another dagger from his belt and embedded it next to the first, his face blazing with rage. Cassandra had never seen him this worked up about anything before.
“It doesn’t seem like he’s thinking much at all,” she said. Her brows rose as Arphaxad embedded a third knife in the stump, the blades nestled together in a neat triangle.
“Clearly.” He kicked at a fallen branch in the detritus. It skittered across the undergrowth and shattered against a tree.
The rest of the correspondence Cassandra had removed from the cave had proved to be just as illuminating as the name signed on that first letter. Sethos Amanakar was planning to use the chanters, and the power he learned from them, to stage a coup against his father. And the Inetian ambassador to Medira was in league with him.
It wasn’t exactly surprising that there was a plan to overthrow the Inetian emperor—Cassandra heard rumblings of that regularly. The Inetian emperor had fourteen children from a dizzying succession of queens and likely more illegitimate children as well. There was always someone who thought they could use one of his progenies to make a claim for the throne, especially in an empire that had been united by so much bloodshed and where there were generations of lingering tensions.
Amanakar was one of the lucky illegitimate sons to be claimed by the emperor when there were dozens more who never had been—and he was more well-connected than even some of his legitimate siblings from earlier queens who had fallen out of favor, since his mother was sister to one of the more well-connected, though now discarded queens.
Cassandra’s mouth twisted at the thought. At least Amanakar had been claimed by his father when she’d just been discarded by hers. The old wound ached, more than she wanted to admit. She knew all too well how it felt to live in a world that claimed your birth was not valid, and she could understand some of what might drive Amanakar to want to overthrow a father who cared for little beyond getting pleasure and exerting power wherever and whenever he wanted.
It was a tale as old as time. Those in power always sought to use others to get what they wanted, no matter the consequences. She just wished Amanakar hadn’t decided to go about it so stupidly.
That’s what made this plan so much worse than the usual rumblings of uprising in Ineti: the gall of Amanakar to try to use magic that had been banned across the empire. Magic that could easily go awry and bring about the end of...a lot of things.
Frustration curled in her gut. It was her job to know about the changing power situation in and around Rendra, and she’d missed it. Amanakar had never come up as a threat before now—he’d always seemed to be a man simpering in the graces of the great emperor and leeching as much as he could get away with. While he wasn’t threatening Rendra directly, he had sent men to the peninsula to learn from the Sorothi chanters. And that kind of power, and closeness, was a direct threat to Rendra. Especially if his aim was to throw the Inetian empire into chaos.
Arphaxad stared at the daggers in the stump, tension clear in every sinew of his body.
She understood his anger too. For him, this was more than just a small thing he hadn’t been aware of. It was an enormous oversight, especially with the looming marriage alliance to the Inetian emperor’s daughter. And if it hadn’t been for Cassandra making an idiot of herself at the Mediran palace, he might not have known for weeks more.
Arphaxad pulled another knife and threw it at the stump. This one slipped past and skittered into the forest. He swore. She didn’t like seeing him so on edge—he had a maddening ability to keep his composure, even under the tensest of circumstances, and for him to show his anger this openly showed how unsettling the situation was.
“What I want to know,” Cassandra said as she picked up her bow and moved to stand beside him, “is why the enclave even agreed to help in the first place. They know the risks better than anyone. And they’ve spent their entire lives learning to control their magic. These Inetians clearly have not, judging by what we witnessed today.”
Arphaxad sighed. “Something must be going on in the enclave. Something we don’t know about.”
He looked at her sidelong as she nocked an arrow and drew the string. The arrow thwacked into the stump right in the middle of the daggers. He made an appreciative noise. “Good shot.”
“I’m imagining Amanakar’s head,” she said impishly.
He snorted, then drew another dagger and tossed it. It embedded in the stump just beside her arrow.
They were quiet for a moment, staring at the weapons in the fading light. The shadows had lengthened since they’d made their way back to the ridge, then deeper into the forest in hopes of avoiding prying eyes, of getting father away from the wrongness of the cave. It wouldn’t be long before darkness fell. A tired ache was gathering in Cassandra”s body, but she knew she couldn’t think about rest anytime soon.
“What can Amanakar possibly offer the chanters?” she said finally. “Safety? The backing of a major power? All that seems like a gamble compared to what they have now in Medira.”
Arphaxad nodded. The anger had drained from his face, and she could see the exhaustion that lay behind it.
She raised her bow again and sent another arrow thudding into the stump, sliding it between her first arrow and Arphaxad’s dagger beside it.
“Now you’re just showing off,” he said. Cassandra’s lips twitched, and she waited as he went to the stump and removed first his daggers and then her arrows.
“Amanakar’s ploy is learning the secrets of the Sorothi chanters,” he said as he returned, handing her the arrows. She watched carefully where he placed each dagger. Those were certainly not all the weapons he had on him, but it helped to know where some of them were. He arched a brow at her, and she gave him her sweetest smile.
“Possessing the ability to open a door to anywhere would certainly prove effective against your enemies,” he continued.
Cassandra slipped the arrows back in her quiver. He was right. That kind of knowledge could give even a very small force an enormous upper hand. “Amanakar could open a door to his father’s bedroom and kill him in his sleep and no one would ever know.”
“Exactly.” Arphaxad grimaced. “And if there’s an influx of amateurs using this kind of power, how long do you think it will be before they start tearing rifts like we saw today? How long before something truly horrible comes slinking through?”
She quieted at his words. She never wanted to witness what she had this morning ever again. It had been so utterly wrong. Even here, up on the ridge and away from the cave, she could sense its pull, its wrongness, its distortion on the reality of their world.
“They’ll destroy the world,” she said soberly. “Or, at least, send the empire into chaos.”
Arphaxad flexed his fingers, then pulled a dagger from his belt. She could sense his frustration again. “Bastard,” he said.
Cassandra froze—that word. She hated that word. And coming from him, it somehow cut through her even more deeply.
He raised the dagger, readying it to throw. “He’s going to get thousands killed, and all so he can get some sort of stupid, petty revenge on his father. The Inetian emperor is going to be sorry he ever claimed him.”
The ground dropped out beneath Cassandra’s feet. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. And then anger was coursing through her veins in a sudden, raging flood as the world came rushing back, and she couldn’t stop herself from rounding on him. “Don’t you dare say that!” Her nostrils flared. “You have absolutely no idea what it’s like to have a father who doesn’t want you!”
Arphaxad’s gaze snapped to hers, his eyes widening briefly. That only made her angrier.
“You had a father who claimed you,” she said, her voice rising. “You have no idea what it’s like to be without a family for most of your life!”
She jerked away from him, yanking her bow into position. Damn it, damn it, damn it! She reached for an arrow, sending it hurtling toward the stump. Then another. And another.
Arphaxad was standing rigid now beside her. “I—” He took a step forward and then stopped.
“All I’m saying,” she blundered on as she nocked another arrow, “is that I understand why a man like Sethos Amanakar might feel like he’s owed something.”
She sent another arrow into the stump. Her heart thundered wildly in her throat. What was wrong with her today? She should never have said anything. Would never have said it if he were anyone else. But she couldn’t bear to have him think that.
Arphaxad was the first to break the silence. “Cass,” he said softly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I don’t know what it’s like.”
She knew he didn’t. He was the son of one of the king’s brothers. He had loving parents, by all accounts, and a younger brother who adored him. He’d always had family.
Arphaxad swallowed. “But you do, Cass. I know. I know about who you are.”
Her head snapped up, and she lowered her bow. “What?” Her world tilted again.
He slid the dagger he’d drawn back into its sheath. “I—it’s my business to know these things. That you’re the queen’s sister.”
The world seemed to spin around her, the darkening trees whirling faster and faster as her mind tried to catch up with what he had just said. He knew she was the queen’s sister. He knew.
“Half-sister,” she said before she could stop herself. She clenched her jaw, a cloying frustration spreading through her gut. If he hadn’t been certain before, she’d beyond confirmed it for him now. “How?” she demanded. “How did you know?”
He shifted his weight, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I—you look like her. And you came out of nowhere. Andre Alarcon took a seemingly random girl off the streets and trained her to be the queen’s shadow. There had to be a reason.”
Her chest tightened. A random girl off the streets. That’s what she was, what she had always been. No amount of royal blood could change that. Just as Amanakar would always be the emperor’s bastard.
“I found an old record of payments made to your grandmother. From the king. I deduced the rest.”
Her mind whirled. He’d known all this time. Her greatest secret. “And you never told anyone?” she said, annoyed at how small her voice sounded.
He held her gaze. “I didn’t.”
“Why?” It didn’t make any sense. He could have easily used that knowledge against her before now, against the queen.
“It’s not...it’s not something I would ever want to do to someone.”
“It’s not?” she said flatly.
“It’s not,” he repeated, his voice rumbling with emotion.
He knew. And he hadn’t told. Hadn’t used that information against her. And now he’d told her he knew. Revealed his greatest hand. She wanted to cry, to flee, to get as far away from here as she could, to escape the emotions raging inside her. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Why did he have this effect on her?
“And for the record,” he said, “I don’t think you’re just a random girl off the streets.”
Her heart gave a quick thud. She had to change the subject. They’d already strayed too far into forbidden territory. Territory that had never been a part of their game. Territory that was well beyond safe.
“Well, then,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady. “Since you know my greatest secret, I’d say I’m owed yours.”
“Oh, you are?” He crossed his arms, his eyes glinting with challenge. “If I’m any judge of our years working together—”
“Working together?” Her brows shot up. “That’s what you call it?”
He grinned. It was the first real smile she’d ever seen from him. “I fully believe you know more about me than you’re willing to admit.”
Now it was her turn to smile. “It is my business to know these things, after all.”
“And what is it that you know about me, Cass?”
She paused for a moment, studying him in the fading twilight. Tendrils of blue and amber filtered through the trees, casting shadows across his face. She remembered the way he had looked that night in Medira, dressed in black then too, an elegant fox mask over his eyes and nose. But here she could see his whole face, his eyes gleaming in the orange rays of the sun, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the line of dark stubble along his jaw. She could see the tiredness in his face, the flash of challenge and something else she couldn’t bring herself to name when his gaze met hers.
“I know you’re unhappy with your king.”
Arphaxad’s jaw tightened. “And what makes you say that?
“The Mediran king isn’t exactly known for his...tact.” She had to choose her words carefully. This thing that lay between them was too tenuous, too fragile. It could break apart at any moment. Arphaxad crossed his arms, waiting.
“You do a lot of cleaning up after him. I’ve seen several letters that have been...edited.”
He snorted. “Of course you have.”
She grinned, then leaned forward, surprised at the sudden earnestness in her voice. “I’ve also seen how you help people, Arphaxad. How you influence the king’s directives toward the good of the people of Medira. From what I’ve seen, a lot of Medira’s resources would end up in the palace rather than with the people who needed it if it weren’t for you.”
He shook his head. “And how do you know I’m not using my influence to benefit Medira? To benefit myself? Happy people don’t tend to turn against their ruler.” He paused. “Even if he is a bad one.”
Now it was Cassandra’s turn to snort. “If that’s what you want me to think.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “No,” he said, his voice filled with sudden intensity, “that’s not what I want you to think.”
“Good,” she said.
He shook his head. “Working for someone you don’t respect is...”
“It’s admirable,” she said firmly. “You have loyalty to more than just the king. You care about Medira, about its people, its future. That’s more than I can say for most courtiers—most people—in both our kingdoms.”
His mouth opened and closed. “Thank you,” he said finally, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice, see it in his eyes.
Cassandra was the one to break his gaze. She turned and raised her bow again, sending another arrow toward the stump. This one missed entirely.
“Why didn’t you shoot me that day in the palace?” His voice was low and earnest from beside her, devoid of the drawling sarcasm she was used to.
“It wouldn’t have been any fun,” she said as lightly as she could, reaching for another arrow. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him see the truth on her face.
“Cass,” he said. He laid a hand on her bow.
“It wouldn’t have been,” she insisted. “Plus, you saw me before I could get the shot off.”
His hand was still on her bow. “We both know that’s not true.”
“Then why did you deposit me outside the palace after we’d both been taken out by the briar root?” She turned to face him now, her eyes blazing into his. This close, she could see the flecks of gold mixed in with the deep brown of his irises. He had a scar at his temple she’d never noticed before, the skin lighter than the rest. “You could have easily trussed me up and taken me to your king.”
His eyes danced. “That wouldn’t have been any fun.”
“Ha,” she said. “You have no answer either.”
“I suppose not,” he said softly. He took another step toward her. He was close now, so close that she could feel his breath on her face, see the darkness of his pupils, even in the fading light. “You never told your queen how I feel about my king,” he said.
Her heart pounded maddeningly in her throat, but she didn’t break his gaze, daring him to move closer, daring him to cross the wall that had been up between them for so long, too long. A boundary that out here, so far from the bounds of their kingdoms, suddenly seemed to be disintegrating.
“I did not.” She could smell him now—a heady, earthy scent—and for a moment, she let herself wonder how it would feel to have his arms around her, to run her hands through his hair, to feel his warmth against her skin, his mouth on hers.
“Saving to use against me later?” he said softly. He tipped her chin up, his thumb skimming along her jaw.
She inhaled sharply. “Something like that,” she breathed.
This was madness. This couldn’t happen. But now, with his breath on her lips and the cool touch of his hands on her skin, she couldn’t think at all.
A twig snapped in the bracken behind them, and they sprang apart. She whipped a couple of daggers from her belt as he did the same, then they stood back-to-back in the fading twilight of the forest as a group of men materialized from the trees. Inetians. Almost a dozen of them.
“Drop your weapons,” one of the men called, his voice heavily accented. He was tall and brawny with golden-brown skin and a jagged scar across one cheek—the man Cassandra had seen talking to the white-haired chanter in the enclave.
A few more men materialized from the trees, their bows drawn. They were trapped.
Arphaxad tensed behind her. “On my signal,” he breathed.
“Do it now!” the man said again.
Fire roared to life in her veins.
Arphaxad moved almost imperceptibly behind her. “Now.”
In one swift motion, Cassandra sent a dagger into the leg of one of the men to her left. She heard a cry of pain as she whirled, sending the other toward another man deeper in the trees. Arphaxad must have done the same because she heard another shout as pandemonium broke loose. An arrow whizzed by her ear as she pulled another dagger from her belt. Her bow was too far away, and at this distance, it would be impossible to get a shot off.
“Hold your fire, you dolts!” the man who had commanded them to drop their weapons howled. “We need them alive!”
Cassandra rolled again as one of the men dove for her, then righted herself before kicking him in the groin. He doubled over as she skittered back, pulling a second dagger from her belt. Arphaxad wasn’t the only one to be armed to the teeth.
She could see him a few yards away now, sparring with a man much larger than he was. The man swung for him, but Arphaxad ducked, moving as lithely as a cat. Cassandra rolled again, sending a dagger toward the man who was coming up behind Arphaxad. The man shrieked as the blade sliced through his shoulder. Arphaxad whirled and kicked the man in the stomach. The man doubled over.
“Thanks!” he called.
Cassandra didn’t have any time to reply before a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground and crushing the air from her lungs. She gasped and stabbed her remaining dagger backward, deep into the leg of whoever was holding her. Her captor gave a yelp. His arms loosened slightly, just enough for Cassandra to slide downward, jamming her boot down on top of his foot.
The man yelped again, and she yanked at the dagger in his leg. He howled and collapsed to the ground, but the dagger slipped from her hands, slick with blood. She whirled, only to find another man coming after her with a long, jagged knife, much larger than her daggers. She tensed, waiting for him to get close enough to force him to drop the knife before it bit into her flesh.
The man gave a sudden howl and dropped to his knees, his knife scudding across the forest. Arphaxad was beside her then, his hands and the daggers clutched in them slick with blood. It spattered his face too in a spray of red. His eyes were wide, flaring with excitement, and he flashed her a huge, ridiculous grin.
“Come on.” He panted, jerking his head toward the forest. “Let’s get out of here.”
She couldn’t stop herself from sending an answering grin back. “Sounds good to me,” she said.
He grunted. His jaw went slack, and Cassandra watched in horror as he slumped to the ground, clutching at his shoulder. An arrow protruded from his back. Cassandra catalogued its location, its damage, her heart pattering an intense rhythm in her chest. It was high, she realized in relief, too high to have hit anything major.
She swore, reaching for his good arm to drag him back to his feet. A knife-tip scraped against her neck, cold and hard. She froze, her chest heaving. She met Arphaxad’s gaze—his eyes were dark with pain, and she could feel him shivering beneath her hand.
“I’ll say it again,” a gravelly voice said in her ear. “Drop. Your. Weapons.”
Cassandra’s stomach sank as she heard Arphaxad’s daggers clatter to the ground. A moment later, hers did the same.