Chapter 9
Cassandra made it back to Rendra in less than a week, her body crumpling with exhaustion. She wrote a comprehensive report as the queen had requested, and when she was finished, she curled up in bed and slept the rest of the day.
She had succeeded in her mission. She had uncovered Amanakar’s plan. Medira would be warned, and Ineti. Rendra and Medira would find common ground for an alliance. Arphaxad would marry the Inetian princess. Peace would reign.
So why did she feel so empty?
She tried not to remember the way Arphaxad had looked at her in the woods above the enclave. She tried not to remember the feel of his body against hers as he’d shielded her from the cave collapse, and the warmth of his breath as she’d huddled in his arms, feeling safer than she ever had before. Those memories could never mean anything at all.
“I know something’s wrong,” the queen said when she came to Cassandra’s room three days later.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Cassandra said gloomily. “I’m just tired.”
The queen watched her, her lips pressed together. Cassandra avoided her gaze. Elena knew her better than anyone.
“You’ve been through a lot this week, Cassandra,” her sister said softly. “But there’s something you’re not telling me.”
A lump rose in Cassandra’s throat. She wasn’t ready to talk about this with anyone. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“But if you won’t tell me, I can’t help you,” her sister continued. “What I do know is that you can’t keep yourself shut up in here forever.”
“I can”t?” Cassandra said, her voice coming out more bitter than she’d intended.
“No,” the queen said. “You cannot. Whatever happened, you are stronger than that. You’re the queen’s shadow.”
And so, Cassandra had gotten up.
She went about her duties in a haze. Some days she practiced archery for hours—but even that was a reminder of the bow she’d lost, of him. Some days she attended court with the queen, standing in her place behind her sister in the formal deep-blue cape of the queen’s shadow. She was thankful for the depth of the hood—that way no one could see her face.
Some days she laid in bed until noon, fighting back nightmares of a black clawing nothingness that threatened to consume her whole, but those were becoming fewer and far between. The queen was right. She was more than this malaise. She was the queen’s shadow. She could act like it.
She dutifully went through the information coming from her contacts about Medira and Ineti, expecting to hear of the wedding any day. But an alliance and a royal wedding took a long time to plan. Even so, the information was eerily silent.
She did manage to gather that Medira had led a force into the enclave and that the rogue Inetians had been thwarted. The enclave’s status in Medira was still to be determined, and the Inetians had not been released to the emperor. There was an ongoing discussion between the two nations as to their fate. Amanakar had been placed under house arrest. Cassandra’s mouth had twisted at that particular news, which Isabel, her best agent, had brought after traveling two days and nights without rest so Cassandra would be the first to know.
The queen had taken this information in stride, as well as Cassandra’s story of what had happened at the enclave. Cassandra had glossed over most of what had happened between her and Arphaxad, and the queen had narrowed her eyes but hadn’t pressed her further. It was just as well. Cassandra might have broken and told her everything.
Most nights, she laid her daggers out on the stand beside her bed: her own, the handle worn and faded; the one Arphaxad had given her when she’d fled the outpost, with its sharp blade; and the one Karim had used to free them, its black handle etched with the golden bird of Ineti. Rendra, Medira, Ineti. She wondered what had happened to Karim, if he’d survived the raid. Memories swirled in her mind, and she tried her best to push them away.
One morning, not long after the news of the enclave raid, Cassandra couldn’t find Tomas at his post. When she asked, the queen said airily that he had gone home to his sick mother in the north of Rendra. Cassandra hoped circumstances weren’t too dire.
The days passed in a haze. The summer heat gave way to the cooler nights of autumn. The soft patter of rain was more often heard on the black tile roof of the palace.
One such afternoon, Cassandra pushed open the door to her room and froze, her fingers still resting on the handle. There in the corner, leaning against the white stucco wall, was a bow. Her heart thudded as she stared at the familiar curve of the wood. It wasn’t just any bow—it was her bow, the one that had been a gift from the queen. The one that had been taken from her at the enclave. The one she’d thought she’d never see again.
Her pulse quickened, and she took a careful step back, her eyes darting around the room for any sign of forced entry. But everything was as she’d left it—the bedsheets still crumpled, her nightdress draped hastily over the back of her desk chair, the stack of unopened correspondence that had been left on her desk that morning by a porter untouched. She moved hurriedly into the room and rifled through the letters, but nothing seemed to be missing.
Her bow. She swallowed hard as she stared at it, a gyre of emotions raging through her. There was only one person who could have left it like this. But that was impossible.
There was a knock on the door, and Cassandra jumped. She balked in surprise as her sister entered. Elena was dressed in her formal court gown, resplendent in gold and white, the sleeves embroidered with delicate roses. The heavy crown of Rendra was twined into her graying hair, which was bound up in an elegant knot.
“I need you to attend me in the throne room immediately,” the queen said without preamble. “An envoy from Medira has arrived.”
“What?” Cassandra said more sharply than she had intended. Her eyes slid to her bow as her pulse spiked. “From Medira?”
The queen nodded. “A foray into a formal alliance.”
Arphaxad’s promise. She blinked. She hadn’t been as attentive as she should have been lately, but her network hadn’t even brought her whispers of this. She realized she hadn’t seen Isabel since the day she’d brought the news of the enclave raid, which was unusual.
“You knew about this?” she demanded.
“Of course.” The queen didn’t quite meet Cassandra’s eyes. “I requested it.”
“Without consulting me?” As the queen’s shadow, she should have been the first to know.
“You haven’t been yourself,” the queen said pointedly.
Guilt tugged at her chest. “I know but—”
“Just be there,” the queen cut her off, then turned and left the room.
A heady mix of excitement and terror twined in her chest as she donned the deep blue cape of the queen’s shadow. She cast another wild look at her bow, hardly daring to hope at what it might mean.
When she entered the throne room, the queen was already seated, as were her most trusted advisors and a few high-ranking officials. Cassandra slipped to her place at the back of the hall just behind the throne where the queen sat, tension winding through her like a cord about to snap.
The whispers around the room ceased as the door to the throne room opened, and Tomas entered, followed by the Mediran envoy. Cassandra blinked. Wasn’t he supposed to be on leave to help his sick mother?
As the envoy made its way down the length of the hall, Cassandra found her eyes roving down the line of Medirans dressed in red and green regalia, telling herself that she wouldn’t be disappointed, that it was impossible, that the bow didn’t mean anything, that she was fine.
Then she saw him. He moved lithely behind the man dressed in the formal robes of ambassador—a tall, slim figure, so terribly, achingly familiar.
Her feet rooted to the floor, and her heart pounded painfully in her chest. What was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be squirreled away in Medira, readying himself to marry his princess? This couldn’t be real.
“Galatan Ilin Remada, Lord of Medira, and acting ambassador to Rendra,” the chamberlain announced.
The ambassador and the rest of the envoys bowed as they reached the queen. As much as she tried, Cassandra couldn’t keep her eyes off Arphaxad. He was dressed in an unassuming black tunic, far less ostentatious than the rest of the envoys, and she could see the nondescript belt around his waist that was glaringly devoid of the daggers that usually hung there. His hair was shorter than it had been when she’d last seen him, trimmed close around his ears. All traces of the stubbly beard were gone, and his arm was no longer in its sling.
Her heart gave a panicked thud. He was here. Why was he here?
As he rose from his bow, his eyes lifted in her direction. Heat flooded her body as their gazes collided, the intensity in it thundering down to her toes. He gave her a nod before turning back to face the queen.
Cassandra’s world was tilting. She hardly heard a word exchanged between the queen and the ambassador. It was mostly formal greetings anyway, but Cassandra didn’t care. He was here, in the same room, not off with his Inetian princess. And the way he had looked at her—Cassandra shivered. She tried not to let her mind wander back to the Malathi pass, to the memories she’d tried so hard to force down, to the fire he lit in her veins.
Cassandra hardly saw what gifts were offered to the queen, what words were spoken in flowery placation. She could hardly think at all, let alone focus on what was happening in front of her.
Time slowed to a viscous ooze, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, so she tried to watch the ceiling or the obsidian and quartz of the floor beneath her feet. With a start, she realized that staring at the floor likely wasn’t polite to a visiting ambassador, and so she jerked her head up, only to find Arphaxad grinning at her, and she couldn’t help but grin stupidly back.
Then the audience was over, and the envoys were turning around and marching back out of the throne room. Arphaxad caught her gaze one more time, and heat blazed through her body again, before he turned and followed the ambassador out the tall doors.
The queen rose, and her advisors rose with her, waiting until she nodded in dismissal before filing out the doors themselves. The queen cast a glance at Cassandra.
“Go,” she said, and her mouth turned up in a rare smile.
“What?” Cassandra said dumbly, staring at her sister.
“I said go. Go find him.”
“You—” Cassandra started. Her mouth opened and closed but no more sound came out.
“I’m your sister, Cassandra. I’m not an idiot.”
And then Cassandra was moving, fire roaring through her veins as she flew down the corridor behind the throne room and around the corner. She collided with someone in the hallway, and then strong arms were steadying her, setting her back on her feet.
“Cass?”
She leaped backward as if she’d been shot from a catapult, heat flooding her cheeks. “Phax,” she choked out, staring up at him.
“You—” he started at the same time that she said, “I didn’t—”
They both broke off, staring awkwardly at each other.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted, unable to tear her gaze away from his. He looked good. Really, really good. “You’re not married to the Inetian princess?”
“No,” he said vehemently. His eyes flashed. “I’m certainly not.”
Arphaxad ran his fingers through his hair, then glanced at the corridor around them. They weren’t alone by any means. A few of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting brushed by them, casting them snide looks. A porter bustled by with a bag thrown over his shoulder. “Can we— Is there somewhere we can go?” he said. “To talk?”
“To talk,” Cassandra repeated dumbly, her gaze traveling down the corridor as she tried to squash her brain back into her head. “There’s a small study around the corner. It’s not used much.”
He followed her down the hall, and his presence beside her was exhilarating, terrifying, as if she were on a precipice, a terrifying unknown stretched out below her. They rounded the corner, and the gilded door of the study came into view. Her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the doorknob, but it finally turned, and then they were inside, and he was closing the door behind them.
She waited until he turned around, but her head was a blank space that she couldn’t quite seem to fill. She had to get a hold of herself.
“Cass, I—” he said at the same time that she said, “You—”
They both stopped again.
“You’re here with the Mediran envoys,” she said stupidly. “I didn’t know you were coming, or else I would have . . . ” She trailed off. Or else she’d have what? Ignored a direct order from the queen and refused to come to the throne room? Avoided the Mediran envoys for the rest of the week?
“The whole thing was a little last minute,” he said.
“Elena only told me right before you all arrived and—” She cut herself off, embarrassment tinging her cheeks again.
They stared at each other.
“Did you get my gift?” he said in a rush.
She swallowed, her mind rushing to catch up with his words before she managed, “I did.”
“Good.” He smirked.
She almost rolled her eyes, but it turned into an incredulous smile. “Where— How did you get it back?”
He rubbed his bad shoulder absently. “I—I’m sure you heard that we raised a force to raid the enclave.”
She nodded. “I did.”
“It went better than we expected. We managed to apprehend the Inetians before they could work any of their newly learned magic, which, it seems, they weren’t adept enough to employ quickly enough to be of any use.” His mouth twisted. “It turns out that most of the enclave didn’t want anything to do with the Inetians after what happened in the cave.”
Cassandra snorted. She wasn’t surprised.
“That single mistake wiped out a decade of work,” he continued. “Doors of that size and complexity aren’t simple to build and take an enormous amount of power and time to make properly.”
Cassandra ground her teeth. It had all been because of greed and power. Amanakar was full of himself, but the enclave wasn’t without fault either.
Arphaxad watched her closely. “It seems the deal was struck with the Inetians by a few chanters in power within the enclave. It was a decision that was forced on the rest of them.”
Cassandra’s mind skittered to the white-haired chanter, Gustav, and how he’d snarled at her that there were things she could never understand. She understood what it was like to be unwanted. To not be acknowledged for who you were, like Gustav, like the chanters. But it hadn’t driven her to madness—and she supposed she had Elena to thank for that, and Andre.
“We apprehended a few of the chanters who sided with the Inetians, but it was a bit . . . explosive.” He grimaced. “Some of them surrendered and some of them just . . . disappeared.”
Cassandra’s heart dipped. She didn’t doubt that the white-haired chanter had been one who had slipped away. She couldn’t see him surrendering to Medira ever.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I found your bow during the raid.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said around the lump in her throat. He was glossing over how much extra effort it must have been to find it amid the chaos, to save it, to bring it back to the Mediran palace, and then all the way to Rendra.
“I wanted to,” he said softly. He fiddled with one of the loops where his daggers usually were on his belt, then glanced at the empty hearth at one end of the room, then back toward her. “I, just . . . That day at the outpost—why did you leave? Without saying anything. After all that.”
After all that. Her heart twisted painfully. “What else was I supposed to do?” she said miserably. “I was redundant. It was better that I just disappeared.”
“Not for me,” he said. Her head jerked up, the intensity in his voice sending shivers down her spine.
“You were supposed to marry the Inetian princess,” she burst out.
“I know,” he said. He crossed his arms and then uncrossed them. An extra movement. A nervous tick she wasn’t used to seeing from him. “I agreed to the king’s request that I marry the Inetian princess because it was the right thing to do for Medira. And I had to do something to—” He stopped abruptly. “The marriage alliance disintegrated after everything with the enclave. Ineti has too much instability. It’s not worth it for Medira.” He paused, and his eyes flicked to her face. “But what is worth it for Medira is an alliance with Rendra.”
She didn’t dare move. “An alliance,” she said.
“An alliance,” he repeated. Another shiver moved down her spine.
“Tomas came to me last week with a proposal from the queen,” he continued.
“Tomas did?” Cassandra’s mind reeled. So, her sister had lied when she’d said that Tomas was with his sick mother. The sneak.
“Yes,” Arphaxad said. “Luckily, it was the same conclusion I was coming to on my own, but they . . . helped move me along.”
Cassandra’s pulse hammered in her throat. She couldn’t allow herself to hope that he was about to say what she thought he was.
“It would be good for Medira and Rendra if there was a marriage alliance,” he plowed on. “And since I was the previous candidate with Ineti, it seemed like a good idea if I were again, but with Rendra.” He absently reached for the daggers that weren’t there on his belt, then stopped when he realized what he was doing. “And I would come to live here and help with your information network. I already have someone primed as my successor in Medira. And you know how I feel about working for my king anyway.”
Cassandra stared at him, trying to push her brain to catch up with the words that were coming out of his mouth. An alliance. He was offering an alliance.
“Damn it,” he said, turning away from her and pacing to the wall. “I’m not saying this very well.”
“You’re—you’re doing fine,” Cassandra said. “I—don’t stop now.”
He turned back to face her, his eyes glowing. “What I’m trying to say, Cass,” he continued, “is that I love you.” For once, he sounded unsure of himself—not unsure of the words, but unsure of her response. “I have for a long time. I can”t get you out of my head. Every time I thought I might run into you on a mission, I went for it. Damn it, I was hoping I would find you at the enclave and I did.” His mouth tilted. “You’re witty and intelligent and beautiful and you drive me absolutely insane, but I love every part of it. Of you.”
Cassandra couldn’t look away, couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.
“I tried so hard to forget you,” he said. “And then there you were, doing your best to snark your way through an entire enclave of chanters and rogue Inetians. And I was completely lost.”
He took a step toward her, energy snapping between them. Her mind was a blank, her emotions whirling in a heightened twister of want and elation and disbelief. He was in love with her. After everything. He wanted her, just as much as she wanted him.
“Cass,” he said. “I—will you marry me?”
Cassandra’s pulse thundered in her ears, and she opened her mouth, but he hurried on. “Please don’t say yes out of obligation to the queen. I only want you to say yes if it’s what you actually want.”
“Yes,” she said, almost before he had stopped speaking.
“Yes?” He looked as stunned as she felt.
“Yes,” she said. She didn’t know what to do with her hands or her feet or her body. What had she been doing with them all this time anyway?
“You’re sure?” he said, taking another step toward her, his face lighting up like a puppy’s.
“Yes, you dimwit,” she snapped, but she couldn’t keep a stupid grin from sliding across her face.
Now Arphaxad was grinning too. He reached out his hand, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. His thumb slid along her jaw just as it had that evening in the forest above the enclave. Cassandra’s breath hitched sharply. “This is where we left off, wasn’t it?” he said, his voice rough.
“I think so,” Cassandra whispered. Tension vibrated in every sinew of her body. “What was it you were planning to do next?”
“I had a few thoughts.” He grinned, his fingers sliding along her jaw and moving to cup the back of her neck.
“I love you,” she said, because she realized she hadn’t said it yet.
His breath hitched, and then he was kissing her, pulling her body flush against him, and her hands twined around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, just like she’d pretended she hadn’t thought about doing every time she’d ever seen him, and he was tracing along her back with his fingers, and she never wanted it to end.
This. This was everything she had ever dreamed of. The thing she’d thought was impossible. And now he was here, and he was hers, and she couldn’t understand how it had happened. Just that morning, she had been mired in the wall of malaise, trying her best to forget him and to move on.
Her heart soared. There were still so many things to talk through, to iron out, between politics and roles and what Medira would get and what Rendra wanted and her ridiculous, wonderful, amazing sister and her schemes, but this, here, with him, this was what mattered.
“We should probably go tell the queen,” Cassandra said after a time—she wasn’t sure how long—pulling back so she could look up at him.
“Not right now we aren’t.” He spread his hand against the small of her back and pressed her closer against him. “I’m not planning on letting go of you anytime soon.”
She had no desire to argue. She leaned up and kissed him again. He laughed against her mouth, a sound of pure joy, as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding up her back and into her hair.
This was joy and love and belonging. There was an alliance to build and an emperor to placate and an enclave to find a home for, but they would face them in time, together. For now, the other things could wait.