He wouldn’t mind melting into her touch. “Don’t cry, love.” His voice came out as a gentle murmur, a sound he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard from himself before. “I don’t want to see you in pain.” A lie. He’d love to see her suffer at his hands. Heneededthat key—needed to see the pain and heartbreak in her eyes when she realized all he’d ever done and ever would do was an act.
But something inside his chest ached at the sight of her torment. It was a strange, deep pain that he couldn’t place. “They wouldn’t want to see you cry,” he offered gently. “Idon’t want to see you cry.”Because crying shows weakness, and I do not want to be stuck with a coward when we travel to the Ruins.There went that pang inside him again. “They’d be happy to know you are alive and well, still carrying the memory of them with you every step of the way.”
Although Dominic was merely putting on an act, he hoped his words were true. He couldn’t live knowing Valen watchedover him from some afterlife and was possibly praying for his downfall, hoping Damon would avenge him. Dominic hoped his friend knew how terribly sorry he was for playing a part in his death. He hoped Valen knew that not a day went by that Dominic didn’t think about him. Or Saige.
Adara nodded, that hard exterior coming back into place, walls building higher and higher, a fortress he could only infiltrate if she let him. He wondered if it was all an act on her part, too. Dominic let his hand fall away from her face.
Folding her hands in her lap, Adara regained her composure. “What will you celebrate life for?”
He stiffened, his posture going rigid. Whatwouldhe celebrate? No one had ever asked him such things.
Dominic’s life had never been worth celebrating. Born into a barren land of poverty and disease, his mother died of illness, and his father was an abusive drunkard who had dealt the death blow to his sister. He’d sailed to Andreilia and barely survived with his friends only to have one die at his hands and the other despise him for the rest of his miserable, practically immortal life. He’d manipulated countless others into loving him so he could steal the magic and life from their key. He’d left Andreilia and had something so terribly painful happen to him that he’d ripped out his heart, tossed it into the Plagued Sea, and made a potion to wipe his memories rather than live with whatever it was that caused him so much suffering.
How could she believe in the gods that had taken so much from her as well? How could anyone be grateful for this life when so much went wrong?
Dominic shook his head slowly, hating the pain in his chest, loathing the way his eyes moistened. “My life is not worth celebrating.”
Chapter 29
DominicandAdaraspentmost of the day hiding away in their room at the inn, planning for their journey to the Ruins. In the morning, they’d leave for Yersva and find passage across the Narphin River, entering the Kingdom of Tarin. In the southernmost city, Senarim, they’d steal horses and ride out west to the wasteland deemed the Ruins. But tonight, they would celebrate. If only because it put a smile on Adara’s face, and he needed her content with him to continue.
Eventually, they’d ventured out of the inn and strolled the colorfully decorated streets as dusk approached. Dominic hadlong since lost count of how many gambling dens they’d approached. They’d played with money stolen from strangers on the streets, winning and losing some. It never mattered when it wasn’t theirs to begin with, and they’d just steal it back.
Adara, not surprisingly, was an expert at it all, flirting with oblivious young men, delicate fingers carefully exploring their tunics or trouser pockets, and deftly fishing out any money, handing it over to Dominic, completely unnoticed. Dominic, on the other hand, had stuck to his strengths in simply playing the game, reading expressions, and watching what cards others picked up or put down, memorizing everyone’s hand without them catching on and beating them by a long shot.
Now, they stumbled out of one of the dimly lit taverns, pockets heavy with coins. Once they were out of sight, they stopped tripping over themselves like drunken fools. They hadn’t even had any drinks, but it was better to pretend to be some mindless idiots who didn’t know any better when placing bets.
The cobbled streets were bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, the light bringing this once-dull kingdom to life. Brilliant lilac and canary lanterns strung across the street above illuminated the way. The silver beading at Adara’s neckline and waistline glittered in the dying sunlight. Her skirts glimmered and flowed freely in her wake, like ocean waves dusted with starlight.
Dominic fought to suppress the smile on his face as she weaved back and forth between the crowd, gazing in awe at everything the vendors had to offer. He was an excellent thief, but today, instead of stealing coins from pockets, he was stealing glimpses of her, smiling in triumph when he wasn’t caught enjoying that which could be his demise.
The streets were even more packed for the last night of Livisian. Adara’s eyes lit up with every cart they passed, admiring mostly jewelry, dresses, and bejeweled weapons. Evensome books and flowers caught her eye, to which she lifted each to her face and breathed in as if it were her first breath, empowering and lively. She looked like some sort of elegant garden fairy his sister would have told him stories about, with the circlet of flowers adorning her head and the bouquet she sniffed in her hands before returning it to its place on the cart.
Something tightened around his arm, and before he knew it, Adara was dragging him to the other side of the street, where a wagon decked out in sparkling jewelry had caught her eye.
“This is gorgeous!” she exclaimed, running her fingertips over a string of pearls.
He couldn’t quite tell if it was all an act to blend in or if this was how giddy she usually was during holidays.
“It would be even more stunning on you, milady!” the merchant—a short, middle-aged man wearing the greens and oranges of Gierok—replied joyously. He’d likely flown here on a dwodi for trade during the festival. The man leaned over the tabletop of the cart, hand cupped by his mouth as if telling a secret. “You know, I got these from the depths of the Plagued Sea,” he whispered, dangling the pearl necklace in front of Adara like bait.
She gasped, hand shooting up to cover her mouth. Dominic rolled his eyes—definitely an act then. There was no way Adara would be so stupid as to believe such lies. The vendor nodded with a wily grin.
“But how did you—”
The man wagged a finger at her and said, “Ah, ah. I never tell my secrets. Then every other person here would find a way to sell pearls from the Plagued Sea, and I’d be out of business.”
Adara pouted, sighed, and nodded her head. She pretended to inspect the necklace, but Dominic caught a glimpse of her eyes darting elsewhere. To a pair of silver earrings in the shapeof dangling stars. The slightest dip of his chin let her know he understood what she wanted.
Of course, she had no interest in some phony pearls, but Dominic said, “It's beautiful, love. And he’s right. They’d look even better on you.” Dominic clapped the man on the shoulder, a friendly gesture, or as friendly as he could seem to be.
She blushed, a giggle escaping her lips. Such a strange sound to hear from her. But right now, they were nothing but two young lovers passing through to celebrate Livisian. Little did all of Lykrios know they were in the presence of the Phoenix and the King of Keys.
Dominic asked the vendor for a price, to which he named an outrageous one, keeping to the story that the pearls were indeed from the Plagued Sea. Bargaining with him as Adara’s nimble fingers slipped the pair of earrings into the folds of her skirts, they finally settled on a slightly lower price. Making a show of intending to purchase the pearl necklace, Dominic fished out a pouch of coins, dumping a few silvers into his palm. He sighed as he counted a few too short, apologized to Adara with a light kiss on her forehead for good show—he noted how she blushed at the action—and thanked the man before they turned away from the cart, supposedly empty-handed.
They only made it a few steps before the merchant’s voice rose above all else. “Hey! Stop them! They stole a pair of earrings!” He searched the streets frantically, eyes settling on a trio of figures clad in black armor, the purple feathers lining their helmet stark against their menacing clothing. “Guards!” he shouted, pointing at the two of them, face red with anger. The guards’ heads followed the merchant’s scornful finger, whipping around in their direction.
Adara leaned into Dominic’s ear and whispered, “Run,” without an ounce of fear or remorse in her voice. In fact, shegrinned from ear to ear as she grabbed his hand and tugged him into the crowd.
