Rocinda finished her work, then gave me another fake, toothy smile. “I think it’s time that we got some sleep.”
“But what about my parents?” I asked, as though they really did exist. “Shouldn’t we start looking for them? They must be so worried.”
Rocinda and Caxton exchanged another inscrutable look.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But it’s far too dark. We’ll look for them first thing in the morning, though. I promise.”
Once again, I could smell the smoky lie of her words, but I crumpled my face, as though I were deeply upset at being separated from my parents. She reached over and squeezed my hand, trying to soothe me.
I felt her fire magic the second her skin touched mine.
Rocinda had used her magic to light the campfire earlier, but she was far stronger than I’d realized. I would have to be very careful how I played my long game. Otherwise, I wouldn’t survive the night, much less escape from her and Caxton.
“It’s okay,” I said in a small, sad voice. “I understand. You don’t want to get lost in the woods too.”
“Exactly!” she replied. “Now, why don’t you go to sleep? Everything will seem much better in the morning.”
I lay down by the fire and let her cover me with a blanket, although the stench of her magic clung to it—along with more than a little coppery blood. Somehow, I held back a shudder of revulsion and wished Rocinda and Caxton a cheery good night. Then I rolled over, so that my back was to them and the fire.
I shifted around for a few moments, as though I were trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. After an appropriate amount of time, I settled down, then slowly let my breathing become deep, steady, and even, as though I were sliding toward sleep, although I kept my eyes cracked open. The first chance I got, I was going to slip into the trees and get as far away from my supposed new friends as possible.
Twenty minutes passed, maybe thirty, before Rocinda and Caxton began speaking in low voices. They must have thought I really was asleep.
“I can’t believe our luck,” Caxton murmured. “I thought we’d be out here for another two weeks searching for Winterwind survivors. But to have one of them just fall into our lap? It’s the best luck we’ve had in a long, long time.”
“Not just a survivor,” Rocinda said. “That girl is a Blair. Didn’t you notice her eyes? They’re gray-blue, just like all the other Blairs I’ve seen. The DiLucris won’t believe it when we drag her in front of them. We’ll get top dollar for her from the Mint.”
“Fuck the Mint,” Caxton said. “We should sell her ourselves. I bet the king would give us a sack of gold crowns for a live Blair to use in his experiments . . .”
King? Which king? And what kind of experiments?
Instead of answering my silent questions, the two of them kept murmuring about all the awful people they wanted to sell me to, like I was a fat wheel of cheese they were hauling to a marketplace.
At first I was stunned, then sick, then afraid. But the longer they talked, the more my turbulent emotions crystallized into rage—this cold, cold rage that iced over my heart and hardened my resolve. These people weren’t kidnapping and selling me. Not as long as I still had breath to fight them.
While Rocinda and Caxton continued their talk of riches, I kept my breathing steady and even, pretending that I was still asleep. Slowly, very, very slowly, I slid my hand into my right dress pocket. I still had the dagger my mother had given to me at Winterwind, the one I had used to kill the Mortan weather magier.
With my weapon in hand, all I had to do now was wait for the right moment to escape . . .
Something heavy fell across my chest, startling me awake.
For a moment, I thought I was back in the woods that horrible night, and Rocinda and Caxton had discovered that I was awake and were coming to hurt me. Then a soft murmur sounded, the scent of vanilla mixed with spice filled my nose, and a warm, strong body shifted on the bed next to me.
I exhaled. Sullivan was sleeping beside me, and we were both safe in my chambers at Seven Spire.
I lay there for several minutes until my heart quit racing, my breathing evened out, and the sweat cooled on my body. But try as I might, I couldn’t quite shove my memories away, close my eyes, and go back to sleep. Eventually, I rolled over and glanced at a clock on the nightstand. Almost midnight.
If I hurried, I could still make my rendezvous.
Despite my awful nightmare, I was warm and comfortable next to Sullivan, and I debated whether to leave him. But I wasn’t drifting off to dreamland again anytime soon, so I slipped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and grabbed my sword and dagger.
Even in the middle of the night, a queen’s work was never done.
Chapter Six
Normally, when I left my chambers for my midnight rendezvous, I used the secret passageway hidden behind the bookcase along the wall. But tonight I unlocked one of the main doors and walked through the palace.
Perhaps it was my bad dream or the geldjager attack, but I wanted to make sure that no more enemies were creeping around Seven Spire. Everything was quiet, and almost everyone was tucked away in their own chambers.
A few guards were roaming around, but I easily avoided them and climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. No one was moving on this level, not even a guard, so I opened a door at the end of a hallway, slipped through to the other side, and locked it behind me.
At my entrance, the fluorestones embedded in the ceiling clicked on, bathing the area in soft white light. This room was average in almost every way. It was neither small nor large and was filled with ordinary, serviceable furniture—chairs, a vanity table, a bed, an armoire, a writing desk. The adjoining bathroom was also unremarkable, as were the collective contents. Dresses, tunics, and leggings hanging in the armoire. Lotions, perfumes, and berry balms sitting on the bathroom counter. A jewelry box perched on the vanity table.
The only thing that made this area special was that it used to be Maeven’s room, back when she had been masquerading as the kitchen steward and plotting to kill Queen Cordelia.
My friends and I had searched this room for clues many times, but we’d largely come up empty. Knowing what kind of honeysuckle perfume Maeven liked or ogling her stunning jewelry collection didn’t help in my war against her and the rest of the Bastard Brigade.
Still, I found myself coming here more nights than not. I wasn’t quite sure why. Perhaps I simply enjoyed the peace and quiet. No one, not even Paloma or Sullivan, ever thought to look for me here. Or perhaps I was just obsessed with Maeven the same way she seemed to be with me, with both of us desperately trying to uncover the other’s weaknesses so that one of us could finally kill the other. Either way, I intended to use the room as my own private escape for as long as possible.
I sat down at the writing desk. Two items were gleaming on the wooden surface—a bronze pocket watch and a silver signet ring that both featured a fancy cursive M. The letter was engraved on the watch’s cover and embossed in silver on a flat piece of jet in the center of the ring, which also featured tiny amethysts, along with feathers etched into its band.
The pocket watch had belonged to Ansel, my treacherous tutor, who had died in the woods outside Winterwind when Marisse, his own cousin and another member of the Bastard Brigade, had murdered him. The signet ring belonged to Maeven, and it was the only noteworthy thing she had left behind when she and Nox, another Mortan royal, had fled from Seven Spire the night I’d killed Vasilia and taken the throne.