7
Y OU WANT MY HELP ? M Y SWORD ? T HEN I WANT Prince Tomás, too.”
Caya had made this declaration five minutes ago. Now she paced the length of Ruiz’s study, wearing down the carpet, while he sat in an armchair in front of the cold fireplace drinking his lukewarm tea in silence.
It was a wood-paneled, windowless room with two doors on either side of a black walnut desk.
Each wall was decorated with shelves lined with books, and there was a family portrait directly across from the entrance: Ruiz beside a woman with laugh lines by her eyes and mouth, almond skin, and dark curly hair that spilled down her back, and a young boy dressed in white, dark-haired and dark-eyed.
Cushioned chairs flecked the floor, one behind the desk, one by the right bookshelf, and two more in the center.
Beneath them was a plush rug the color of a sunset.
A makeshift table had been erected beside Ruiz, on which rested a silver tray with a teapot, a bell, and a second, empty cup.
He had been quiet for so long that she could hear her own heartbeat, reverberating through her borrowed body.
The clink of his spoon atop the tray had made her stomach churn.
It was still churning too much for her to try to keep anything down.
At last, he said, “I thought you wanted Sebastjan.”
It wasn’t what she’d been expecting. But it wasn’t the response she’d feared.
“I do,” Caya confirmed. “Right now, the only thing he cares about is Tomás. I saw it myself. Nothing can truly hurt him as long as they still have each other.”
Ever since they’d returned to Ruiz’s rented manor, she had replayed that intimate moment again and again.
Ruiz had told her that the Domingans worried about Bas’s influence over the prince, but what she’d witnessed hadn’t been influence.
It had been affection, genuine and deep.
The way Bas had melted into the prince. The way the prince had looked at him as though no one else existed.
The way they had made her feel like a trespasser even in such a public space.
She’d thought that Bas had nothing but his life left to take, that he was nothing more than a servant of the Castellans. Now she knew better.
There was always more to lose. Farther to fall.
“I want to see the look in his eyes when I take the prince away from him,” she continued with savage vehemence. “Then, in the midst of his grief and loss, I’ll slit his throat.”
Ruiz set the cup on the tray, his expression thoughtful but distant.
She didn’t know him well enough yet to guess at the emotions he might have been suppressing, and she was starting to hate it.
They were too much alike, even in this. He had a universe inside of him that he had yet to invite her into.
“The Castellans have been steadily losing favor since the Scourge. That’s why the king has taken such a personal interest in my work,” he said slowly.
“Those of us who stood with them, aided them, lost the most when the witches revolted and are now forced to watch as they flourish on the other side of the border. King Alvaro lost his wife, Ximena, yes, but he’s raised two young men who hardly inspire the people.
Prince Itzal rarely leaves the palace, except for the Coronet.
Prince Tomás leaves it far too much—and usually returns from beds he shouldn’t be in. ”
Despite the iron control he was trying to exert over himself, Caya could read the potential in his words.
The fact that he hadn’t yet called soldiers on her was promising.
She was suggesting a different kind of sedition than the one he’d been planning before he found her.
The door was at her back. If he rejected her terms, she would have to run even farther than Coventry or Domingo.
But she had not gambled without caution. He still hadn’t said no outright.
“If the Castellans are already aware of what we’re doing, then it would be easiest for Tomás and Bas to be active participants with me,” Caya pointed out.
“They already know the Magisters of each House. This will go faster with their help, we would gain their trust, and I would be close enough to silence them permanently when they’re no longer useful. ”
Her entire soul rebelled at the idea of working with Bas on anything, but gaining his trust any other way would take precious time she needed to use to find the plants. If he already thought they were close conspirators, he would help her seal his own fate.
That sparkle was back in Ruiz’s eyes, a brightness that she had come to realize meant that she’d surprised him. That he was interested. That she was interest ing .
Caya smiled. “Next year will be Tomás’s second year at the Coronet, I believe. He can make a show of reconsidering things with the witches, so they’ll give him more access to the Houses.”
“You think they would let a Castellan wander around unguarded?”
“I think the witches want to return to Domingo as badly as Domingo wants to keep them out.” She thought of the slow transformation of Rojanea into Estrellad, the capital city of Domingo.
The way the latest fashions wouldn’t have been out of place in the Domingan court.
The fact that there was always a note of excitement in the air whenever the princes were among them.
“I think if we can convince them they have that chance, they’ll give us anything we want, too.
It’s easier to steal from a place that’s invited you in. ”
“Harder to get away with it, though.”
Caya winked. “That’s where Bas comes in. Either I kill him, or I frame him. Hopefully both.”
She allowed herself to imagine it: infiltrating House Vida and House Muerte, stealing their spirits-blessed plants for Ruiz’s potions, and leaving just enough evidence of Bas’s presence that he would be blamed if they noticed the loss.
She imagined him being arrested and hanged by the very witches he’d sold the Seawards out to.
It wouldn’t be as satisfying as carving his heart out herself, but it would be poetic.
Justice .
“The details need work,” said Ruiz, picking up the bell from his tray and ringing it.
A servant appeared with a new teapot, replacing the old one and his dirty cup before disappearing.
“But it’s… a sound idea, I’ll admit. I’ll talk to the Castellans.
You work on your lessons. We have ten months before the next Coronet, and your endurance still isn’t where it needs to be. ”
Caya fought the urge to roll her eyes. Even now, she wore the mantle of Marisol Vinyet, with the regatta hours behind them. Every minute was easier than the last. “You can have a little more faith in me, you know.”
“ Faith? You think I would leave any of this up to faith?” Ruiz had been reaching for the teapot, but now he stopped.
He leaned forward, his brows lowered over his dark eyes.
“What we are doing here is treason. Do you understand that? This is now treason against two countries. I’m allowing you to murder a member of royalty for your childish revenge fantasy so that I can get what I want: justice for my family.
If a single thing goes wrong, we’ll both hang. Tell me you understand.”
“I understa—”
“No, you don’t. Or you wouldn’t have said that so quickly.
” Ruiz climbed to his feet. One hand rubbed his face as he approached the portrait of his family.
“When I lost Esperanza, I wanted to die. I would never have gone through with it, would never have disrespected her and Ignacio’s memories like that, but I saw no point in a world without them in it.
Then I realized that I did have a purpose, and that was to make sure the witches who took them away from me lost everything, too. ”
“Yeah,” Caya whispered. It felt as if he had plucked those thoughts from her head, as if he were flaying her alive to get to the grief and fury buried deep in her bones. “I’m glad you—I’m glad you’re still here.”
Ruiz didn’t turn around, but she saw his shoulders lower as though some of the tension had melted from his body. “I’m glad I found you,” he admitted. “In Estrellad, they’ve rebuilt. They’ve moved on. I feel like I’m the only one permanently stuck reliving that day. Like—”
“—you’re a monster playing at being human. Like there are too many ugly, broken parts of you to ever be normal again.”
Now he did turn. Everything she saw in his eyes was reflected in her expression. The pain that had calcified into hatred. The anger that masked a deep loneliness. The fear that she was unlovable, unfixable, and the only true future she had was to go down fighting.
“I understand what we’re doing,” Caya said slowly without breaking his gaze.
“I understand that this is treason. I understand that victory is the only option, and death would be the kindest consequence of failure. But I need you to understand that I’ve been frozen, too.
It took me a decade to become this.” Her hand touched her chest. “To learn how to skate over the ice that keeps me from plunging into the depth of all that agony. If you trust me, we’ll both get what we want.
And if we do… maybe we can finally heal. Together.”
Ruiz stared at her, but this time it didn’t break her apart.
They had both compared their scars, opened their wounds, and found that they bled the same.
He needed her, but maybe she needed him, too.
She couldn’t go on like this, spinning and shining for people who took any excuse to look away.
This was her chance to move on. To move forward.
To punish.
“All right,” Ruiz said, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Maintain your spell, and I’ll show you my research.”