She leaned forward, cradling her glass. “Explain this to me, then. Who is Raleigh?”
“When I met him, he was the king’s most trusted adviser. Had been since the city was built. A soldier who fought with King Umbert and the old lairds against the draignochs. That’s how he came to have so much experience with killing the beasts. The tournaments were his idea, according to him. He was highly respected by the king. But after I won his title from him last year, the king sent him into the Hinterlands, put him in charge of collecting taxes.”
“Like an old horse put out to pasture.”
Griffin nodded.
“But then, why is he remaining in the city? Shouldn’t he be out pillaging?” Maggie stood up, intrigued by the mystery. “And since he’s not, then one must ask oneself, if the king has no use for Raleigh, who does?”
“You speak of the plot to kill the king. He wouldn’t have any part of that. He’s worked too hard to put these lands together. He’s a constant at Jori’s side these days. Raleigh is still loyal to the crown.” Griffin took another sip of wine, trying to wash away the seeds of doubt.
“Then why not tell the king about me?”
Griffin was asking himself the same question. “I don’t know.”
“I do. Because he told the prince. I don’t trust him.”
“He’s the heir. What would he have to gain by killing his father? The title falls to him.”
“Maybe it’s not falling fast enough for his liking. He’s pretty awful to Jori, from what I saw.” She sat down again, abruptly asking, “Why were you on the bridge?”
“I was waiting . . . for you,” he admitted.
That earned him a smile.
“Oh, I have something for you.” He had completely forgotten the delivery from Dres. He pulled out a folded bit of parchment from his tunic and handed it to her. “It’s from the boy I injured at the arena. The one you helped. His father gave this to Dres and asked that it be given to you. The boy drew it, as a thank-you I suppose.”
Tiny sooty fingerprints were pressed into the fabric as if it had been folded in a hurry. Her breath caught at what she saw inside. Griffin’s had too. He had drawn the scar on her arm—three lines—three dots—in rough coal.
“Perhaps you should burn it.”
She surprised him by tucking the fabric inside her sleeve.
“Is that yet another new dress from Jori?” Griffin set his wine down, trying to hide his irritation. “You look beautiful in it.”
“Thank you.” She flushed, unable to meet his eyes. “I told him to stop, but he’s persistent. I keep ruining them anyway. I suppose he thinks I should try to look presentable.” She played with the folds of the skirt.
“Not an easy task.” Griffin smirked.
“So rude.” She smiled. “What do you think of the prince?”
“You clearly don’t trust him.”
“I don’t trust anyone in this place,” she admitted.
Griffin’s mood plummeted. “He’s been a good friend.”
“Not to you. He tried to stop me from leaving the balcony and helping that boy. Helping you. If Raleigh knew that I could heal, then why did the prince order him to stop me from leaving?”
“The king—”
“Wants rid of me all the time. He would not have noticed me gone.”
Griffin’s stomach soured. “I can only imagine he doesn’t know the truth, then.”
“You’re lying to yourself, Sir Griffin.”
“Perhaps, but I’m not willing to concede the point. For all we know it’s Malcolm Raleigh serves now. He could’ve easily gone North during the last year and no one would know.”
Maggie cradled her glass. Maybe she didn’t really want Griffin to leave. “You trust Jori that much?”
Griffin chose his words carefully. “No trust can be blind. The foundling hordes taught me that. After nights with them in the Bottom, I fell asleep and woke up alone with my only pair of shoes gone.”
“Teaching you to sleep with your shoes on. That’s what I do . . . did . . . in the Hinterlands.”
Griffin smiled. “Thanks to Jori and the king, I have more than one pair.”
“But you worry they’ll take them away from you. Take all of this . . .” She gestured around the grand room.
Griffin felt naked, exposed. She made him question everything, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “After this day, the thought of returning to my old room in the Wilted Rose and sleeping with my shoes on isn’t altogether displeasing.” He drank down his glass of wine.
“You miss it? Your life with Thoma and Dres? You’re much more at ease around them. Thoma especially. You hardly speak around Jori. Probably afraid of saying the wrong thing.”
“Unlike you, who always says whatever pops into your mind. And to your point, I miss many things. But then I’m not sure I would be welcomed back in the same way. You saw how Dres acted. Everything has changed. I have changed. And then I would be letting them down too. I would be letting down everyone who has supported me. The people of the Bottom; what would they think? Even after my axe struck one of their own, our own, they still cheered for me. I in no way deserved it.”
“Of course you deserved it. You cared nothing for yourself or your position when it happened. You ran straightaway to help him. Their loyalty to you is beyond reproach because you give it back in equal measure. I think they would understand completely wanting to leave a dreadful place like this, where you never know who your friends are. A place where you can’t be yourself but have to put on a show . . . all the time.”
Griffin deftly changed the subject. “What about you? You must have friends all over the Hinterlands. Suitors . . .”
Her brow furrowed, her stare floating to the ceiling. “Not really. A night here. Day there. Many days alone, waiting for Xavier to return from scouting. It takes time to travel with the wagon. We never stay anywhere long enough for me to make real friends.” Her blue gaze glossed over. “The memories I saw with Rendicryss were remarkable. The connection so real between her and me.” She hissed a laugh. “The only real friend I have in this world is a monster locked in a cage, who I can’t even remember.”
“You have me.” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it.
“I’m not looking for pity, Sir Griffin.” She patted his hand that was nervously clasped to his knee.
Griffin caught it, keeping her from escaping. His thumb skating over her palm. The memory of her soft lips touching his in the stairwell returned. Her delicate scent surrounded him. He never wanted to kiss someone so much in his entire life. “No. I don’t expect you ever would.”
When her deep blue eyes met Griffin’s, her lips parted slightly. Did she want to kiss him too? He swallowed the urge, forcing himself up to pour another glass of wine, although he wasn’t thirsty. “Will you tell me what happened in the king’s chambers?”
“The king told us a story.” She set her glass down and launched into it without hesitation—from a strange beginning to an unbelievable end. The young king murdering his brother in anger, being chased by the draignoch into the enchanted woods, finding a seer woman who spoke of prophecies, of the birth of magic in these lands, and how his rule depended on finding it.