He couldn’t breathe.
The pity in her eyes was the end.
“Nikias, wait! Nikias?—”
The scar on his chest burned.
Inamatus.
He might be able to outrun Aimilia, but he couldn’t outrun himself.
Chapter 24
AIMILIA
Aimilia didn’t see Nikias for the next two days. She didn’t see anyone really.
Like a coward, she hid in her room, staying silent and holding her breath even when Cyprian came by. He was the only one who did. But no amount of him banging on her door or demanding she open it ever moved her to flip the lock. She left only for the basic necessities, being careful to time it when her uncle wasn’t around. He was painfully predictable.
She received no notes. No summons.
No Nikias.
She didn’t know what it meant.
After Nikias had left her, sweeping away in silence now that she knew his darkest secret, she’d received no updates about what would happen next.
So Aimilia spent her time pacing her room, spinning the ring on her finger as her memories chased her through the space. And when her legs couldn’t take it anymore, she lay on her bed, hair loose—not bothering with a braid since no one was seeing her—and stared up at the ceiling until her chest grew so tight and all she could see was the glass crashing into Nikias’ face.
The more Aimilia replayed the horrific scene, the realization settled over her like a thick blanket around her shoulders. Nikias had been given an out.
There was only one reason his father had hit him that day.
“No.”
Her tears sprang up all over again. When was she going to run out of tears for him?
She didn’t have an answer. Not for that. Not for anything anymore.
That was the real reason she was hiding. She had no idea what she was supposed to do now.
But, while it might make her life easier if she’d never turned back down that hallway that day, she couldn’t regret it. But she didn’t know what to do with it.
The night before they were supposed to leave, a servant knocked on her door. When Aimilia opened it, she had Aimilia’s commander’s cloak folded neatly in her arms with the engraved clasp with her name on it and a note resting on top of the fine red fabric.
Aimilia tore open the note, heart pounding and throat closing to see Nikias’ handwriting.
All he wrote was:
Be ready at dawn.
It confirmed the one biggest question she had at the moment. Nikias was still bringing her with him.
So despite the confusion that was eating her alive, or maybe because of it, she stood in the palace courtyard, her cloak around her shoulders, bags packed and handing them off to the stable boys who were darting around getting the horses and carts secure for their journey. They were travelling light so they could move quickly, but not necessarily breakneck speed.
She stood by her horse, absentmindedly rubbing its shoulder while a stableboy checked the saddle for a second time, when shespotted the signature black curls and the gold hair that usually accompanied them. She abandoned the horse she’d been half-heartedly bonding with to go greet them at the gates.
They all exchanged hugs and Marcella said, “Good to see you up. And with us.”
