Chapter 14
Harthon left.
Sometime after I’d fallen asleep, he’d draped a blanket over me, left, and spent the night elsewhere.
I knew this because, when my eyes fluttered open and I realized I was alone, the sky was still dark. Given how early it was, it was very unlikely he’d woken up before me to start his day.
So Harthon hadn’t spent the night with me, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that. But what I did know was that it disappointed me.
Trying to ignore that sentiment, I rose. The healer was due to take my stitches out today. I’d been under strict orders not to train while they were in, but if they were coming out within a few hours…
I smiled.
As the sun rose in the murky sky, I was surprised how smoothly I performed my repetitions.
Before the attack, my jabs, kicks, and evasions were edging toward competent.
Today, they were proficient. I’d been afraid the injuries would cause a setback, but maybe the forced break actually rid me of bad habits.
Feeling confident, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and went for a spinning kick—a fairly new maneuver—just as the door opened. Caught off guard, I overspun and lost my balance, catching myself at the last second.
Of course, after all those flawless repetitions I’d just done, this was what Harthon saw.
He opened his mouth, probably to critique, but I beat him to it. “You startled me.”
“If I startled you, what would an attacker have done?” he asked dryly.
“Kindly knocked on my door like a polite person,” I shot back.
He closed the door behind him. “I heard movement. I knew it was fine if I entered.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point, then?” He reached a chair and leaned on its back, the muscles of his arms bulging beneath his tunic.
“It’s impolite.”
“I don’t care about being polite.”
For Domus’ sake. “What if I’d been naked?”
I realized my mistake as his mouth twitched—the very mouth that’d suckled and nipped and kissed me into a puddle last night. A completely unhelpful tingle started where his fingers had played.
“I still don’t see the problem,” he drawled.
And I’d just lost this battle. Rather than admit defeat, I slunk away to my water cup.
When I finished drinking, his smile was gone. “I came here to explain—”
Why you left this morning?
“—about Jonathan.”
Right.
Because now, in the light of day and with the clarity of sleep, logic reigned again. Regardless of what Harthon had done to me last night, he’d also tortured and killed a man, citing a crime he did not commit while leaving me in the dark.
He circled his chair and sat, looking far too rested and put together for someone who’d switched beds in the middle of the night.
I sat in a chair across from him, nursing more water. “I thought we were trying to keep my attack a secret, and yet you openly spoke about it with the Lords.”
Resting his elbows on his thighs, he nodded. “Initially, we planned to hide it from everyone. But when no obvious guilty party emerged, your attack became a…tool.”
I was not a fan of that phrasing.
“Clearly, whoever hired your assailants was in a position of authority. They had access to the guards’ placements and schedules, knew where you’d likely be, and were able to let those mercenaries into the Citadel.
With Koerlyn missing or dead, it was unlikely to be a high-ranking soldier who was being threatened by him.
So I looked at the biggest group of snakes I know. ”
“Your cabinet,” I concluded.
He inclined his head. “There was no evidence. We needed a way to make them confess. I planted a rumor, one that said your attack occurred outside the Citadel, not within the garden. Given Jonathan’s comment about you being a threat during our last meeting, I looked into him first.”
“And at the celebration, when you spoke to him, he slipped and named the garden as the attack location,” I finished.
It had been a clever plan. One he’d kept from me, even though I was at the center of it.
My fingers tightened around the cup. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He rubbed at his jaw. “You’re smart, and you’re capable. I know that. But you were still recovering from your injuries.”
The cup landed on the table with a thump. “So I was temporarily incapable of being smart?”
He dropped his hand and gave me a look that was almost pained. “You were hurt within the Citadel, while I was here. You’d been through enough trouble and stress. I wanted to spare you from more.”
“You aren’t my mother.”
“I’m well aware, considering what I did to you last night.”
I cursed the blush in my cheeks. “Don’t change the subject. You don’t get to make decisions for me.”
“I may not be your mother, but I’m someone who cares. For you, about you,” he carefully articulated. “I thought you didn’t need to know, especially because I wasn’t sure Jonathan was to blame until that moment on the dais.”
I shook my head, ready to reinforce my point, when he said, “I made the wrong choice.”
Wait. What?
“I miscalculated. I should have told you. It was a situation directly involving you, and not only did I hide it, but I blindsided you with the result. I’m sorry for that.”
Blindsided may not be a strong enough term to describe watching a man’s ear and tongue being removed, right before he was killed in front of you. But his apology, on the other hand, was weighted.
It stunned me so much it took a moment to find my words. “So why did you accuse him of Jac’s crime?”
Harthon sighed out a breath. “I needed to make an example of him. And while I may have nudged a rumor of your attack to the cabinet, I do not want the entire Territory to know. So, I cited another crime that still needed to be answered for.”
“What are you going to execute Jac for, then?” I asked quietly. Because that would be happening. I was surprised it hadn’t already.
“I’m not executing Jac.”
My lips parted. “But he—”
Harthon cut me off. “I know what he did, and for it, he deserves death,” he said darkly. “But instead of an execution here, he’ll be coming with us to Sixth, and he’ll be sent to scout First. There’s a high chance that task will lead to his death.”
“But there’s a chance that he will not die,” I pointed out. “And if he does die, it will be doing something honorable, not hanging from a rope with his hands behind his back.” Confusion mingled with relief. Jac wouldn’t die like a common criminal. The man might live. “Why would you do that?”
“Because we need a scout.” His tone softened. “And because you don’t need any more deaths on your mind.”
* * *
The conversation about Jac was still echoing in my head when I entered the garden with Merelda. I wanted her to see it, all that greenery and life. Someone had already placed a chair for her against the wall.
Her leg still wasn’t right.
“Just tell me. Did you see the healer?” I asked for the second time.
“Is she this stubborn with you all, too?” Merelda directed the question at Callen, who escorted us across the garden. One look at Callen’s handsome face and sparkling green eyes, and Merelda had wriggled her brows at me. It didn’t help that he, too, carried her down the stairs.
Callen chuckled. “It really depends on the person. I call it selective stubbornness.”
“And who is she the most stubborn with?”
They traded a look that was completely at my expense. So what if Harthon brought out my stubborn side?
“I am concerned for your health,” I gritted out.
She gingerly lowered into the chair. “I’ve told you, my health is just fine. The terrain was hard on my legs. I’ll be okay after more rest.”
And she called me stubborn.
I slid down the wall beside her, tipping my head back against the stone. Yet again, rays of sunlight were streaking through the clouds, warming my skin.
What a wonderful, lucky gift it was to share skies like this with her. Because the hazy sunlight was still an anomaly. More often than not, the clouds were a thick blanket above.
She took a deep, indulgent breath. “Sunlight. Lavender. Leaves,” she listed wistfully. “Reminds me of my childhood. Who would have thought such beauty would be found in Princeps Harthon’s home?”
It certainly went against his image. “He’s not as bad as he’s made out to be.”
“That became fairly clear last night, dear.”
I toyed with my lip, my mind on something other than the man that normally consumed it. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Merelda considered this for a moment. “Would you have left today if I wasn’t here?”
“No. The plan was always for tomorrow.” Guilt nibbled at me. “Harthon offered me a few extra days last night, but…I cannot take them.”
I still knew it was the right decision, but admitting it to Merelda felt awful. She extended her hand down to me, and I took it.
“Good.” She squeezed.
But it didn’t feel good at the moment. She’d gone through terrible trials because of me, and now I was abandoning her. “There’s a disease that’s killing the potato crop, and it doesn’t look to be slowing any time soon. In fact, it’s spreading. And with every day, this land gets worse.”
Her fingers squeezed again. “You don’t need to explain. The world is suffering. We need the resources beneath the Domus, and we cannot afford to wait.” She looked back and forth between my eyes, admiration in the way her lips wobbled. “I’m so proud of you.”
Those five simple words had tears burning my eyes.
“How did you really know it was me, when you heard the rumors of the magvis?” I asked.
She’d claimed it was motherly instinct, but there had to be more to it than that.
The possibility that I—a nobody-villager who never wanted to leave home—would be standing beside a renowned Princeps as an all-powerful being was just…
unbelievable. She and Marsik wouldn’t risk traveling across Koerlyn’s lands and facing Harthon’s reputation without evidence that I was really here.
I knew I was right when she mulled over my question.
“It was motherly instinct, guided by a dream from years ago.”
“A dream,” I repeated.