Aidon huffed a laugh. Gods, he’d missed her, too.
“I may have endeared myself to our army by helping them secure the palace. The Bellare caught on to whatever plan you set in motion in town,” he elaborated in response to Josie’s confused look. Alarm had her eyes widening as she stepped out of his hold, and Aidon rushed to continue. “But Clyde assured me they had it under control.”
Josie’s shoulders sagged in relief. “You saw Clyde?”
“I did. When I came ashore, I went straight toward the fighting in the Old Town. He told me you were here.”
He looked between her and Aleissande. “Some of the soldiers are escorting the rebels to the dungeons, while the rest are heading into town to ensure the matter truly is handled.”
“Excellent,” Aleissande replied. She strolled forward, her fingers tightening in Ryker’s tunic as she dragged him with her. “Once I dispose ofhimin a cell, I will join them.”
“A cell?” Ryker stammered. Aleissande arched a brow.
“You didn’t think we’d simply let you go free before we verify your story, did you?”
“He’ll be lucky to go free at all,” Josie muttered darkly.
Aleissande pursed her lips, her eyes solemn as they darted between Josie and Aidon. “That is for you two to discuss.”
Surprise pulsed through Aidon at his general’s words. He remembered a time when Aleissande wanted to bar Josiefrom such discussions. He watched his general carefully as she gave Josie a lingering look. There was something…soft about the way she regarded Josie.
“I’ll be back when the town is secured,” Aleissande assured them. “No,” Aleissande added as Josie went to speak, “you cannot come. Both of you need to stay somewhere secure.” She leveled them with a stern look. “I mean it.”
Josie rolled her eyes as the general dragged Ryker away, but the gesture almost looked…fond.
Aidon had the decency to give his sister five whole seconds before he commented on it. “No fucking way,” he smirked. Josie attempted a glare, but the smile fighting to break free on her lips won out.
“We have lots to catch up on,” she said as she looped her arm through his.
“We do,” Aidon agreed. He tried to match her levity, but he couldn’t keep the heaviness from his voice, and it had Josie’s smile fading. “I’m afraid we do not have much time to do so.”
Josie squeezed his arm, even as she grimaced. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
58
It was no surprise that midnight came far too quickly. Will had always found that death had a way of hastening things.
This time, Hyacinth had sent the Royal Guard to escort them to the throne room. Will was grateful. A simple glance at Aya’s face, gaunt and utterly blank, was all he needed to know that if it had been the Dyminara leading them to their end, Aya would break before she ever got before the crowd.
If she hadn’t broken already.
He walked as close to her as the guards would allow, but it wasn’t close enough. Still, he kept his affinity touching her, that invisible point of contact between them settling something in his chest.
She hadn’t given up entirely. If she had, he would have felt it, wouldn’t he?
She’d told him she didn’t want to die. He had to believe her.
Their footsteps echoed across the empty hallways, the sound haunting and loud. It was strange, being in this palace again. Will hadn’t much taken it in when they’d first locked him up. But now, he let his gaze wander the halls he’d spent the last three years striding through, trying to find some proofthat it had all been for something.
He tore his eyes from the renderings of the Conoscenza fastened to the walls and looked instead at Aya.
He could not help the way his heart picked up a frantic rhythm the closer they drew to the throne room. Her face still had that blank expression, her emotions distant against his affinity.
Suddenly they were before the throne room doors, the towering oak opening slowly to reveal a crowd of people standing in hastily assembled stands on either side of the aisle that would serve as their death march. Hyacinth stood at the end, her hands clasped before her, her head bowed. Beside her was the executioner, his axe gleaming in the firelight, and before him, his worn execution block.
The hair on the back of Will’s neck rose as the Royal Guard shoved him forward, his legs hardly cooperating. He’d faced death so many times, one would think he’d have grown used to the way fear licked down his spine whenever he looked it in the eyes.
But he’d been fighting death then, and godsdammit, he’d been a worthy adversary.
