Lia flinched. Her hand inched toward the longer dagger at her waist, but she hesitated. “I’m not your sister,” she drawled. Was he on drugs?
He smiled. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Secrets are a funny thing, Lia. Did you know your mother used to sing for the palace? Her theater was favorite of our dear deceased Randa’s.”
Her heart beat a little faster. Her mother and father had been travelling bards until Dahlia had been born. Then they’d settled down to harvest maples until her father had died right before Cosmos had been born. Her mum had moved them east into the cold of Loriia.
Adder’s smile widened. “I can see that wonderful mind of yours working. It’s my job to collect secrets and your mother held so many of them. Did you know it is illegal to hide bastard children from the Asteran crown?”
Don’t listen to him. He’s playing games.
Her hand rested on her dagger. Using it would be a last resort. She didn’t want to get that close to the slumlord. She wished there was a wall between them
An idea formed in her mind. Now she just needed the right moment when he was distracted.
Another explosion went off, much closer. She stumbled on the table but managed to keep her balance. Lia snatched the large lantern hanging from the ceiling and tossed it in front of the throne. Glass, oil, and flames exploded everywhere. The Giver threw his hands up to cover his face as she grabbed more lanterns and hurled one to the left, the other to the right, forming a wall of flames and glass between them.
Lia plucked two decanters of spirits and lobbed them into the flames. The fire expanded, licking up the left side of the tent, hungry to consume everything in its path. She tossed another and another until it was impossible to get through the fire. Hereyes watered and her lungs screamed from the smoke, but she didn’t run.
The Giver vaulted over the throne and stared Dahlia down through the flames.
“You’re so troublesome, but I can’t help but admire how you come out swinging every time you’re cornered. It must be genetic.” He smiled but it held a dark edge. “I’ll be seeing you soon, flower. Make sure you pop by Wicked when you’re in the capital. I would love to chat with my sister.”
He disappeared into the back of the burning tent.
She had no intention of going to Florrant ever again.
There was no way she could be related to that snake.
Then why did they choose you to impersonate the princess?
Lia shook her head. It was a coincidence.
She spun and jumped down from the table. Dahlia pulled the blade from her hip and rushed to the exit. She paused, listening for anything, but all she could hear were screams, the shriek of metal against metal, and her own heart in her ears.
Heat licked up her spine.
Get out.
She pushed outside, ready for a fight, ready to find the Giver waiting for her with more lies and a blade. Only to find everyone gone.
Her horse included.
Blood and curses.
Serenity screeched, circling up above. At least, she wasn’t alone in this.
Dahlia tucked the hem of her dress up into her belt, whistled to herastrylle, and ran. She staggered when an explosion went off, knocking her onto the side of the nearest tent. Flames and smoke shot into the sky and she coughed, eyes watering and ears ringing.
Her hip and ribs smarted. She must have hit one of the wooden supports.
Lia wheezed, touching her ribs with her left hand. Her fingers curled tightly around her dagger. Luckily, she hadn’t impaled herself with the wickedly sharp steel or cut herself with it. Loshika was going to kill her for getting hurt again.
And your husband.
Dahlia staggered upright with a groan and limped toward the commotion.
Serenity screeched above as if to tell Lia to get moving.
“I’m going. I’m going,” she muttered through the pain.
