22. All That Geometry Gibberish #3
That’s odd that he called the queen by just her first name. Maybe things were a bit more casual at Arcem Fortress. Or maybe he's on a first-name basis with all the people who send him on assassination missions.
“Yes, well, they said they would.”
“Wait.” His head whipped around. “You traded that information? So they know you’re aware they were behind the plot?”
Refusing to meet his gaze, the corners of my mouth pulled back in an awkward, half-hearted attempt at a smile. It came across as more of a cringe.
“Bloody darkened stars, Wren!” His glare burned into the side of my head until he finally gave up, shut his eyes, and with a thump, let his head fall back onto the wall we sat against. “Ugh,” he groaned. “This has to work.”
We were silent for a while before he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He turned to look at me, his face and his words softer now. “You should never, ever have done this. But thank you. I’m not sure I know anyone who would’ve gone through all this trouble for me.”
I smiled. “Nah,” I waved away his gratitude, “I just didn’t want to be stuck in the king’s harem. He’s really not my type. Too much facial hair. And the whole ‘murdered his brother’ thing is a bit of a red flag.”
A chuckle burst from his lips. The smile changed his entire face, and he shook his head in exasperation. There it was. The smile. Worth getting locked in a dungeon for? Just maybe.
He grew serious again as his eyebrows knitted in thought. “Watching you calculate those coordinates…” Honey-touched green eyes met mine again. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
A compliment…from Griffon. But I haven’t got us out of the woods yet. All I could do was smile at him and hope that I hadn’t sent the king’s men on a wild-goose chase.
“Have you ever considered that your ember is your intellect?”
“Well,” I paused, considering, and then… “not really.”
“You understand things better than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t have a photographic memory or anything. I’ve always been inquisitive and liked to learn. Curiosity’s not an ember.” I’m pretty sure it just kills cats. And serves the little buggers right.
He shrugged. “Regular people aren’t capable of understanding the things you do. Maybe your ember is just more subtle than most.”
I pondered that as we sat in comfortable silence while the chill of the underground seeped into my bones. Pulling my knees up, I wrapped my arms around them.
“It’s going to get colder as night descends. Here,” he murmured, slipping his arm around me.
I settled into his side as his fingertips made lazy circles on the pebbled skin of my arm.
He was warm, and his scent was familiar.
The rise and fall of his chest came in slow, deep pulls that made me hyperaware of how close we were sitting.
And yet, the steady cadence of it lulled me into a calm I hadn't felt in days.
“Those clothes aren’t exactly made for this.”
No, they're made for lounging on silk cushions and eating grapes, not sitting on freezing dungeon floors. And yet, here we are.
I awoke in confusion, as I seemed to do every morning. I never knew where I was anymore. Rolling onto my back, I found Griffon looking down at me. Somehow, I’d fallen asleep on his lap.
Oh. Well. This is really nice or really awkward. But I’m not awake enough to decide which.
“Windsong morning,” he grinned.
I could get used to that smile. “Windsong morning to you, too.”
I dragged myself off his lap and stretched. My back ached at the thought of being vertical, so I could only imagine how Griffon felt. He must have slept sitting up all night. Ugh…and every night he’s been down here.
“They should bring food shortly. Usually, they’ve delivered it by now.”
I settled against the cool wall as my stomach made itself known. It grumbled angrily, but then it occurred to me. “I don’t think they’re going to bring anything today.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s the Day of Darkness. Which pretty much means there’s a new moon tonight,” I replied.
“It’s their monthly ‘oh no, the moon’s taking a mini vacation’ panic.
They fast all day to brace for the horrors of having to protect themselves from the big, bad scary night.
And then tomorrow, they throw a party to celebrate the sun returning from its own little existential crisis, and they all survived to see it. ”
“So, no food today?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Just great,” he sighed.
We sat, letting the real possibility of a very long day settle into our bones.
“Do you think the king will uphold his end of the bargain? That he’ll let us go if they find the headpiece?
” It was a question that had been haunting me since I had made the deal with him.
Right up there with ‘what if I calculated wrong’ and ‘what if Hermes is laughing from his grave because we fell for his practical joke,’ and about fifty other anxiety-inducing questions.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“He seems like a good man,” I reasoned.
“Don’t forget who arranged for the former king’s demise. Sometimes, having honor and doing what is best for your people aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Well, that’s awfully comforting. Nothing like a touch of moral uncertainty to start the day off with a bang.
I felt confident that I’d done all I could do.
Only time would tell if it was enough. Time, and if my math was correct.
And if the relic was still there. And if monks were as predictable as I thought they were.
And whether—okay, stopping those thoughts right now. They weren’t helping.
The day dragged on. Its weight felt heavier with each passing hour. Like a hypnotist putting me into a trance with a pocket watch, I became captivated by the rhythm of Griffon’s steps as he paced back and forth in the cell.
A distant, sharp clang of metal striking metal echoed down the cell block.
It caused us both to stiffen. Griffon’s hand even twitched toward his hip before he caught himself.
Frustrated, he exhaled sharply through his nose.
“Probably just a guard dropping something,” he muttered, but his eyes remained on the cell door.
I pushed myself up and brushed dust from my kaftan. “Or maybe they’re coming to tell us—“
“They’re not.” He cut me off, but there was no malice in it. Just a man who’d spent enough time in this cell to be certain of the difference. He dragged a hand through his flaxen curls. “If they’d found it, we’d know by now.”
The silence settled on us again, heavier this time. I hugged my knees and watched the way his fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against his thigh.
Finally, footsteps. We both snapped to attention and got to our feet as a young guard balancing a wooden tray came into view.
His ochre tunic, embroidered with the king’s sun-like insignia, hung slightly loose on his frame, as if he’d only recently grown into it.
A single clay cup of water sat atop the tray.
The liquid sloshed precariously with each hesitant step before the guard crouched low and slid the tray through the perfectly sized slot in the bars along the floor.
“King’s orders,” he said, not meeting our eyes. “For the girl.”
I reached for the cup as Griffon shifted forward as well. His weight was forward and his shoulders squared as if the cup was going to bite me. I got to the cup before he did. The guard flinched, backing away so fast that he nearly dropped the tray.
The man’s footsteps retreated.
Griffon exhaled sharply. “What if it’s—“
I took a defiant sip. The water was tepid, but tasted divine. “Poison? Why would it be? That would ruin all their fun. Besides being well hydrated—it may take me longer to burn. Which is so thoughtful.” I drank half, then held out the cup.
“Drink it all. You’ll need it.”
“Nope. It’ll sit here and evaporate then. I’m not drinking anymore.”
He exhaled in frustration and took the cup from my hand.
I slid down the wall, wrapping my arms around my knees. “At least drinking poison wouldn’t be the worst decision I’ve made lately.”
That got a ghost of a smirk, and he downed the water in one go. “Someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”
“Like bargain my life on my mathematical prowess?”
His smirk disappeared. Turning away, he braced one hand against the wall. “Wren.”
“I know, I know.” I sighed, leaning back. “But if we’re just waiting to die, can we at least not talk about it?”