“I’m sorry you believe that,” Kielty replied peaceably. In contrast to Llir, his posture was calm, open. He seemed to realize that here was a lost cause and moved off to oversee the preparations for leaving.
Gradually most people filtered away, the Cage to retrieve their boats and supplies, Rhianne and Mawre to help tend to Tigo, Emment to continue pestering Catua. I was left alone—or so I thought—to stare, hollowed out, at the burning castle. But when I turned, I saw that I wasn’t alone. Llir was behind me, his eyes on his ruined home.
Despite the spots of dried blood on his jaw, his hair salt tousled and wild over his forehead, he still somehow managed to look regal. Even beautiful. Finally his green eyes sank to meet mine.
I swallowed, remembering the dance. The tableau. The feel of his fingers gripping my waist. A lifetime ago—or at least it felt like it. All that was gone up in smoke, like the keep.
“I’m sorry,” I offered. It was all I could think of to say.
He stared at me. Emotions warred in his expression, but the only one I could reliably pick out was anger. When he eventually spoke, his voice was hoarse with fatigue.
“Sorry for what? For betraying my family, sabotaging our defenses, or sorry that someone else got in first?”
I felt my face flatten. “Only the first one. And sorry in the sense that I wish I hadn’thadto do it.”
He studied me. “You didn’t follow me that morning because you were curious. You followed me because you needed dirt on my family. And you got it, didn’t you?Mysecret was the one. The one thing my father would do anything to keep hidden.”
“I didn’t want to use it,” I said. It was true. “I didn’t really want to use anything I found out.”
His top lip curled; he looked away from me briefly.
“I was going to tell you, before you threw in your lot withthem”—he inclined his chin to where the Cage were packing up—“that I’m sure I can persuade Emment and Vercha to keep you on.” His eyes sought his brother, who was having his wound cleaned. “Like Emment said, there’s still the vote. We can back the most progressive candidate. Rebuild. Move to my father’s house in Breawr in the meantime.”
He finally looked at me, saw me shaking my head. His next words were said all in a rush, gaze intense. “We could use your talents. And you’ll have everything you want.”
Anger spread crimson wings in my chest, but beneath it was a horrible, hot bubble of shame…shame that a sliver of mewantedto accept him. To go back to my cushy, familiar placement, to be adjacent to that luxury I’d half grown accustomed to…
“Still so wedded to Hundred tradition. Still speaking of us as though we’re pieces of furniture.” I shook my head narrowly, felt mybreath coming faster. “You still can’t imagine any other kind of life, can you, than the wool-wrapped one you’ve been living out here?”
His expression closed up, a shutter coming down, but before he could reply, a cry rang out.
It was Zennia, sprinting toward us from the gatehouse.
“He’s gone. Iovawn Crake. He’sgone.”
A ripple of shock went through those of us who heard her. Emment and Catua ran over from nearby.
“What do you mean,gone?” Emment grated. “The laconite—”
“Discarded. He’s spoken to the earth, burrowed a tunnel. I’m sure if we search, we’ll find the exit, but there’s no sign of him anywhere. He’s just disappeared.”
“Impossible,” Llir breathed. “He was chained, he had laconite…”
“He was gagged, too,” said Catua, “and the cell was locked tight.”
I spun in a circle, a dark weight settling on me. “Where’s Vercha?” I asked, my voice breaking slightly.
I was remembering a writing desk stuffed full of paper. An unopened letter. Charred flecks in a grate.
“She stormed off,” said Catua, frowning. “Why? I haven’t seen her since…” She trailed off, staring at my face.
“What are you implying?” Emment snapped, turning in a circle. “Verch!I’ll find her. She’ll be here. She will.”
He jogged off, calling his sister’s name, but Catua gripped my arm with cold fingers. “You know something,” she said, gazing hard into my face.
“I think—” I said slowly, “I think they were writing to each other.”
—
