I didn’t tell him he was wrong. While I may have been the one to ride to his rescue, Tolek had been saving me from myself for years.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ophelia
“A dead end?”I asked dully as we reached a wall. Sunlight filtered between cracks in the thick white stones.
We’d been wandering these tunnels for days now, and Sapphire had taken the lead. A piece of me trusted she knew where she was going. If I’d counted correctly, the Daminius festivities began tonight with the Sunquist Ball at the Revered’s Palace. And tomorrow, after the holiday, my time to persuade the delegates of my aptitude was up. Failure slackened my frame.
“Wait,” Tol whispered. “Do you hear that?”
He held his ear to the wall, and I mimicked him. A dull hum of activity slithered through the cracks; voices chatting merrily and grunting, as if lifting and moving supplies.
“What is?—”
My words were drowned by the cracking of the wall in front of Tol, debris raining down at our feet. He held up a gray brick, a smile on his face—the wall hadn’t cracked at all. Tol had pulled a loose stone from it.
I didn’t know how, but my warrior horse had gotten us where we needed to be. We followed Sapphire through, the rest of the wall remaining stable, and exited onto a street in the MerchantQuarter of Damenal.
Home.
I hadn’t realizedhow much the Revered’s Palace had become a comfort to me. Walking through the arched doorway and hearing our boots echo against the marble floors wrapped a warm embrace of safety around my bones.
Relieved tears stung my eyes. I looked down at my feet as I wiped them away, the mud caked on my boots standing out against the pristine white speckled tiled and inlaid gold embellishments lining the foyer.
We’d made it.
Tolek was back and safe by my side where he belonged.
I barely had time to take a grateful inhale before a parade of footsteps pounded down the staircase. My head snapped up, a smile breaking across my cheeks. Our friends and the delegates surrounded Tolek and me, the relief I’d felt radiating off all of them, too.
But there was something else in their eyes—something sharp enough to puncture the bubble of safety that secured me moments ago.
They looked between each other, all daring someone else to speak first.
“We need to talk,” Malakai finally said, eyes barely leaving mine. His assessing gaze sent me fidgeting, remembering the way I’d yelled at him over his decision not to rescue Tol.
I started to ask what was wrong, but before the words left my mouth, someone grabbed Malakai’s shoulder and pushed him aside in a flash of long, dark curls and shining leathers.
“Lyria?” Tolek barely had time to ask before the eldest Vincienzo pulled her arm back and landed a punch to her brother’s gut.
“That’s for abandoning me in Palerman,” she hissed as he doubled over. Before Tol could even stand fully upright, she raised her hand again and brought an open-palmed slap across his cheek. “Andthatis for getting yourself kidnapped.”
Tolek rubbed a hand across his jaw, the other still holding his gut, and a piece of me wanted to laugh at the scene. His expression frozen in shock, both at seeing his sister and at being hit—twice.
“Good to see you’ve returned in one piece, brother.” Lyria’s dark brown eyes shone, and it was concern forming those tears, hidden beneath wrath.
“Not that I’m notthrilledto be assaulted, sister”—he worked his jaw back and forth, blinking away the pain—“but what in the Spirit-guarded hell are you doing here?”
“My little brother disappears—with my horse I might add.” Santorina winced at that, having used Lyria’s mare to get to the mountains. “Then, henevertells the family he’s okay, until I receive a letter from Malakai saying he’s been taken. Forgive me for rushing to the mountains to see how I may help.”
I looked to Malakai where he stood behind Lyria, eyes downcast. He’d written to her; the realization soothed some of the agitation that had risen upon seeing him. He hadn’t given up entirely when I’d left. No, Malakai had found a shred of forgiveness within himself, a lingering bead of hope that inspired action.
“You didn’t tell her you were leaving?” I whispered to Tol.
“I left a note,” he muttered.
“Ah, yes, the note.Ria, Going on a journey. Mother and Father don’t need to know. Not sure when I’ll be back. TV.” Lyria tried and failed to mask the hurt in her voice when she added, “Thanks for the information.”
