Gritting my teeth, I stared at the vacant stone bridge spanning the roaring waterfall that split the palace from the rest of the city. This was the reason I hated heights.
Exactly ten years ago, back when Father still held public court and allowed us out of the palace, we stood here for the Bone Ceremony—the offering of fish bones to the water. A woman had leaned too far over, slipping on the stone, and fell to her death. Not the usual offering Mynastra expected, but she took it all the same, carrying the woman’s body out to sea.
I shuddered and put more thought into my footsteps than I had all night.
The thundering waterfall echoed in my chest. But I ignored it. I also ignored the gods-built palace. I knew its sky-high columns and pink marble turrets too well.
It was a tomb and a prison. But it held the only people left in the world whom I loved.
I skirted around the dozens of long steps leading to the main doors and the ever-watchful palace guards to use a servant’s entrance on the side. Because that was my role now—a servant to the crown. I didn’t pause through the labyrinth of halls and secret passageways that led to my small room, situated next to Renwell’s room and his study.
I checked his study and found it locked, which meant he wasn’t there.
Just as well. My clothes, weighed down with weapons and rain, were choking me.
Dry clothes, some hot tea, and a biscuit would be perfect. The cook still let me nab biscuits from the larder despite my decline in rank.
I reached for my key but stopped when I found my door hanging ajar. I silently unsheathed my dagger and pushed the door open, taking a tentative step inside.
Only for the sharp, cold edge of a blade to press against my throat.
Chapter 2
Kiera
“You didn’t checkthe corners first.”
I swallowed hard, the blade moving with my throat. “And I told you to stop breaking into my room.”
Renwell’s breath warmed my ear. “I grew tired of waiting.”
“How is that possible when your cloak is still damp with rain?”
The knife disappeared, and I spun to face him, my heart beating erratically. He stood in the shadows like he was a part of them. His dark brown hair and closely trimmed beard hid most of his pale face. His black clothing, from cloak to gloves to boots, hid the rest. He had twice my twenty-three years, yet his strength was evident in every controlled movement as he sheathed his sunstone knife.
“You noticed my wet cloak, yet I still got my knife to your throat.” Renwell stepped closer, smelling of rain, leather, and smoke. “I could’ve been an assassin.”
I glared up at him, tired of his games. “What assassin could breach these walls without your knowledge?”
His lips twisted in a smirk. “None.”
None... if only my mother hadn’t been outside the palace when an assassin came for her.
I tossed my dagger onto my tiny bed, peeled off my sopping cloak, and draped it over the cracked wooden chair in front of my washstand. As I lit a fire in the hearth, Renwell shut the door and locked it.
My skin prickled with unease, but I ignored it.
“What did you find at Garyth’s?” he asked.
“You were right,” I said. “He was hiding something. I found a sheaf of papers in a secret hole in his desk.”
Renwell gestured impatiently. “And?”
“They were written in code. I couldn’t read them.” Renwell’s cheeks hollowed with anger, and I rushed on. “But one of them bore a symbol. The People’s Council symbol.”
Something like triumph flared in Renwell’s dark eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” I whispered. I cleared my throat and said louder, “Yes, but how can we be sure what it means if we can’t translate the papers?”
