Chapter 50
Chapter
Fifty
ARA
It’s been two days since the attack, and we are once more at the palace for another fancy celebration.
I’m absolutely positive that if I have to attend another one within the next year, I’ll scream.
That Tate is fidgety doesn’t help either.
Okay, fidgety might not be the right word, since only his eyes are moving, constantly checking for threats, but his gift is restless too, and it freaks me out.
He and Jared flank me, and I’m not even sure they would let me go to the bathroom by myself.
“Could you please relax?” I whisper. “You’re giving me palpitations.”
Jared gives me a funny look. “What are you talking about? We hardly shifted our weight in the last twenty minutes.” He peers past me at Tate. “Is he even breathing?”
“Ha, ha, not funny,” I whisper back. Too aware of the undead, non-breathing Joel in my back to appreciate the joke.
Mariel and I spent a good part of this morning painting markings on his right arm. And placing him at my back, flanked by Mariel and Calix, is mainly so no one can get too good a look at him.
My stomach roils, and I have the urge to put distance between us, which isn’t fair since all of this is my fault. My stomach lurches again, probably because I have hardly eaten anything in the past few days.
“I’ll grab something to eat,” I declare and don’t wait for an answer before making my way across the room. Tate was the one constantly pushing food on me the last few days, so I don’t think he will object, especially since I’m never leaving their view.
I step up to the elaborate buffet and pick a cookie and an apple.
Dar stands close, talking to Deliah, but I don’t linger.
For once, I’m glad he is preoccupied. We’ve kept Joel’s condition a secret so far, and I don’t plan to change that anytime soon.
It will be hard enough to tell them about his death without adding time spent as an undead into the equation.
Nausea runs through me, and for a moment, I’m worried I’ll decorate the floor with the few bites of the cookie I’ve eaten so far. Telling Ben about Joel is something I don’t look forward to. I press a hand to my mouth, waiting for my stomach to settle again.
“Are you not feeling well?” Deliah whispers next to me, and I flinch. When did she become so good at sneaking up on people?
“Oh, it's fine,” I say. “Maybe something didn't agree with me.” Or it’s the thought of telling my twin I got his best friend killed.
“I can keep a secret,” she says, and my eyebrows jump up, but Deliah is busy taking in my dress.
My brow furrows. Does she know something?
“Tell you what?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“It's Alec’s, right?” Now she has completely lost me. I narrow my eyes at her.
“What are you talking about, Deliah?”
“The child.”
I look around, but there is no child in sight. When her eyes run over my flat abdomen, the coin drops, and I bark out a laugh.
“I’m not pregnant.” I shake my head at her. “Sheesh, Deliah.”
“Are you sure?”
I roll my eyes at her. “I think I would know if I were pregnant.”
Strangely enough, the thought of carrying Tate's baby doesn't scare me nearly enough. But gods, that would be the last thing I’d need right now.
Deliah doesn’t look convinced, but I only shake my head at her. I will not argue about something like that in a place like this. Otherwise, tomorrow’s rumors will have me carrying triplets for sure.
I turn my back on her and make my way over to my blissfully ignorant, imaginative baby daddy and snort at the thought of telling him that.
But for a second, I wonder if he would be happy or horrified about such news.
Then I shake my head at myself. What's wrong with me? I’m no closer to solving my Frederick-shaped problem.
I still have to find the courage to tell him the rest of my secrets, and we might not survive the last trial.
And I’m considering starting a family with him?
Aware of the many eyes around us, I still can’t help but brush past him, seeking contact. His hand finds mine for just a heartbeat.
“You look pale,” he comments. “Are you alright?”
“Killing your brother’s best friend might do that to a girl,” I joke, before adding, “I’m fine,” to reassure him.
I glance at him, only to find his focus already on me.
Dammit, I want to kiss him. His lips twitch as if he knows what I'm thinking. Well, I am staring at his mouth.
He steps closer until he stands partly behind me. “If you keep looking at me like that, I will find a quiet corner to have my way with you,” he rasps right next to my ear.
I look up at him. “Promises, promises.” And my core tightens when his growl fills the air between us.
“You’d better stay right where you are for a moment,” he says. “Otherwise, everyone will know what you do to me.”
Not looking at him, I sneak my hand behind my back and run it over his crotch, making him hiss. And he wasn't lying.
“So ready for me,” I purr.
“Are you?” he asks.
“Soaked.” And gods do I want him to take my mind off all the problems crowding my head, to remind me that we are still alive and what we’re fighting for.
“Fuck.” The word is a stretched sound of agony. “Let me give you a tour of the palace.” He grabs my hand and is about to pull me to the next door when a servant stops right in front of me.
“The king requests your presence, Lady Blackstone.”
I nod, resigned. Only a few more days of this, a few more days, and we’ll be back in Telos … or dead. I send Tate a grimace and follow the man in front of me.
TATE
Frederick’s gaze rests on me with a smile, while Ara is on her way over to him, and tension seeps into every fiber of my being. I hate this. I hate her being this close to him, and I have no qualms whatsoever about tuning into their conversation.
“Only five more days,” Frederick says.
“I’m aware when the last competition is, thank you,” Ara mutters, looking bored. My lips twitch. Mists, I love her defiant, stubborn ass. And I love the annoyed frown on my brother’s face.
“You’ll probably be glad to know that should you win, I’ll graduate you and your friends early.” At his words, her eyes fly up to his, and my gut sinks. So much for having time.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she snarls.
Frederick’s smile is slow and smug, his eyes wandering from her to me.
“How about a kiss?” he asks, and she recoils. Then, everything happens too fast to intercept. Understanding and disgust flash over her face, and I’m moving.
I wasn’t around when Frederick’s gifts woke, but going by Ara’s reaction, I have a pretty good guess, since it runs strong in our family—influencing. If she resists, he’ll learn her secret, but I can’t see her—
Ara’s hand connects with my brother’s cheek with a crack that has everyone whirling around. The room freezes into shocked silence, while I move faster.
“Fuck you, Your Majesty, fuck you and your sick games.” Ara hisses, and then she moves toward the balcony doors.
“Tell everyone to get out of here,” I instruct Daeva.
Ara is already outside and reaching for Solaris when I catch up with her.
“Ara, wait.” She stills at my request, and her body deflates with a sigh before she turns.
I’m right in front of her, and she has to see the questions in my eyes, but instead of answering, she pulls my head down and kisses me with a desperation that makes my stomach clench. This feels too much like goodbye.
“He tried to compel you.” My voice is strained, clipped.
“And I screwed up. I’m sorry,” she whispers. Her eyes trace my face.
“Be careful.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and then help her up onto Solaris’s back. My hand rests on her leg while she sorts out her dress. I don’t want to let go, but to save her, I have to. So I step back.
“I’ll come back, I promise.”
There are heavy footsteps, and Ara’s eyes dart behind me. Solaris launches into the air before I have the chance to do more than shake my head. Not that it would have made a difference.
“Where are you?” I ask Daeva.
“About one minute out.” A heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
“Circle above the palace,” I tell her, and then face the guards behind me.
“Come along, Your Highness,” the man requests, and I recognize him as Corin’s second in command. I don’t protest or correct him about my title but follow while he leads me into my father’s study. It’s Fred’s study now.
I step in and nearly snort when all five guards follow and surround me in a semicircle. Do they think they have a chance of holding me here? I’m only here to salvage whatever is possible. But at least if they go after me, that means they are not going after the others.
“Update,” I request from Daeva, while we wait.
“Ara left to the northeast. No one followed so far. Solaris requested that we not follow either. No one stopped the rest of your flight. They are confused, but back at the house. I ordered them to lock down.”
“You are the best.”
“I know.” She preens, and I smile.
The door opens, and Frederick walks in, his left cheek still red from Ara’s hand, and my grin widens, but the high deflates when I notice the man behind him.
Four years have turned his once salt-and-pepper hair completely white, and the lines on his face a little deeper, but his eyes are still alert, his back straight. My father’s truth-teller. He taught me everything I know about my truth-telling gift and how to interrogate people.
He acknowledges me with a nearly imperceptible tip of his chin.
“You knew,” my brother accuses me right away.
“Be more specific than that, Your Highness,” I drawl. “I know a lot of things, but not everything.”
“Do your job,” he spits at my former mentor. “Or do I have to remind you of your loyalties?”
“Your Majesty, I have served your family since I made my promise of loyalty fifteen years back, and I do not intend to break it.” He looks at me with those last words.
I’m fucked.
I had hoped… I don’t know for what, since he is bound by a promise.
He turns to me. “Ready when you are, Your Highness,” he addresses me, and my brother bristles.
“He was stripped of his title. Don’t address him like that.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” He bows to my brother before turning back to me. “Let’s start, shall we?”
I nod at him, and he steps next to me, both of us facing my brother now, who sits behind my father’s—his desk.
“How did you meet Ara Blackstone?” my brother asks.
“I met her when we were children on the palace grounds,” I answer.
“True.” Comes the confirmation next to me.
“No, I meant, how did you meet her the second time?”
“I saw her four times in total when we were children, and—” My brother cuts me off with a wave of his hand.
“True.”
My brother’s jaw works. “No, by Otero’s patience, how did you meet her now that she is a grown woman?”
“She was assigned to my division.”
“True.”
My brother continues to pester me with questions, but it seems my father didn't concentrate on interrogation. He grows increasingly frustrated, and I get a twisted satisfaction out of answering his questions as unsatisfactorily as possible.
Finally, we get to the part I dreaded from the start, confirming my suspicion about his gift.
“Do you know what she is?”
“Yes, she is reckless, smart, funny—”
“True.”
“Stop testing my patience. Did you know she is cursed?”
I frown at him. “I’ve healed her multiple times,” I say, and a smug smile starts on his face.
“True.”
His eyes jump to the truth-teller. “What?”
“It’s true, Your Majesty.”
“But that is … impossible,” my brother sputters, and for a moment, I think it’s over, but unfortunately, I’m wrong. “Did you know Ara Blackstone is cursed?”
“No.” I don’t blink, and I don’t hesitate. And even if he were to torture me, my answer would be the same.
“Truth,” the truth-teller declares, but I hear the lie in his voice. Which raises two questions: why did he lie for me, and how did he survive it?
My brother’s shoulders slump, and with a wave of his hand, he dismisses all of us. The guards accompany me to the gates, thwarting the chance to speak one-on-one to my old mentor.