“When were you going to tell me you’re leaving?” Aiden demanded, his arms folded over his chest. His black shirt was untied at the top, the laces swaying in the breeze.
He glared down at me as if he could intimidate me. Or provoke me. I refused to give in to either desire.
I turned back to my yellow squash. “I don’t need to tell you anything. I assumed Nikella would inform you if you realized I was gone.”
Perhaps I shouldn’t have added that last part. I didn’t want him to think I missed his presence. But I supposed he could take my words however he gods-damn wished.
He growled in frustration, and I could almost hear him running his fingers through his hair.
“Were you planning to run out on Maz and his family as well? The people who gave you food and shelter? Or was it just me?”
I scowled and yanked on the stubborn squash until the stem snapped. “I’m notrunning outon anyone. I asked Frieda for a horse and supplies, and Nikella for a map. I was going to say goodbye to Maz and Yarina tomorrow.”
I placed the squash in my basket with the others, but didn’t pick it up as I stood to face him.
“I’m not letting you go,” he said.
Despite my best intentions, fury rose like a storm inside me. “Letme go? I wasn’t aware that I was your prisoner.”
“You’re not. But I can’t let you go on some foolish quest?—”
“I am not asking your permission,” I hissed in his face. “Foolish or not, I need to make sure my brother and sister are alive because I’m the only one who cares if they are.”
“I am just as responsible for their lives as I am for yours,” he snarled back. “I swore to your mother?—”
“Don’t youdareinvoke my mother.” I stabbed my finger into his chest. “If it weren’t for you, she’d still be alive.Yougot her into a mess that forcedyouto kill her to clean it up.”
Aiden seized the finger that was trying to puncture his chest, his green eyes blazing. “And I willneverforgive myself for it. But I wasn’t the first one she went to for help in getting rid of your father.”
I froze, my heart slamming against my chest. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie? I have nothing left to lose. I’m trying to help you find some gods-damned peace.”
“By telling me my mother—my sweet, innocent mother—was soliciting assassins in her spare time because she wanted the throne that damn much? You’re insane.”
He growled, tightening his grip on my finger. “She wasn’t soliciting assassins, princess. She was only allowed out of the palace on festival days to go to the Temple. Shequietlyasked the Teachers for help. Do you remember Librius? He knew Nikella and knew I was in Aquinon. He arranged for me to meet Brielleat the Temple. She was my mother’s best friend. She recognized me instantly.”
Some of the rage left my body like a dying wind. I swallowed hard. Queen Rhea had died giving birth to Aiden after my father had murdered King Tristan and Renwell had shot her with an arrow as she fled.
But my mother and his mother... had been friends?
Aiden’s voice softened. “Brielle said she was pregnant with Everett when my parents died. She was distraught and vowed that one day she would make it right, however she could.”
“And you used that vow for your own revenge plan,” I whispered, my voice in jagged pieces.
His eyes searched mine, my pain reflecting in his. “She wanted me to be king. To restore my father’s house. But I refused. I merely wanted Weylin gone. She agreed to take the throne and clear a path for Everett one day.”
“That’s why you wanted Everett to be king.”
Aiden nodded. “It was what she wanted. Now tell me, am I lying?”
My instincts said no, but he’d bested me in Death and Four, so I was no great judge. Which reminded me of something else. “You lied to me before,” I said. “When we were playing Death and Four atThe Weary Traveler. You said you knew nothing about my mother’s death.”
He scoffed. “Should I have told the whole tavern that I killed the queen? That I aimed to kill the king as well? I survive by not sharing all my secrets with every person who asks. Though you did try your damnedest. Tell me, how much did your old mentor know by the end?”
I tried to jerk away from him, but he held me fast. He leaned closer, his scent and warmth muddling my senses. I desperately tried not to think about kissing him last night.
Aiden continued, seemingly unaffected. “Clearly, Renwell knew about the heist and the date of our attack, but what else did you tell him? Maz insists that you had nothing to do with him being captured and tortured. I’m inclined to believe him, but it doesn’t make sense. Why would a spy only divulge information under the duress of losing her supposed enemy?”
