I suppose that’s accurate— but it’s jarring. I’ve spent so much time thinking that the king is gone, so the threats about magic should be gone, too.
If the queen isn’t safe, it’s unfair for her to lose her husband. It’s unfair for Sinna to lose her father.
Alek glances over. “As usual, I find it fascinating that you still regard me as a villain from one of your storybooks, when I’ve never told you anything but the truth— from the very first moment I met you.”
That makes every muscle in my body go tense. I want to throw myself out of the carriage. “Youarea villain.”
“Am I? Why?”
“You just kidnapped me!”
“If I wanted tokidnapyou, I’m sure it would take a good deal more planning and execution. I simply spoke of the queen’s order and you willingly joined me.”
“Afteryouthreatened to tell my sister about you and me,” I say, seething.
“Ah.” He glances away from the road, and his blue eyes are piercing. “Is that my fault, or is it your own? I certainly can’t be blamed for the secrets you keep from your own sister.”
My cheeks flare with heat, and I’m glad for the breeze. Oh, I hate him. Ihatehim.
I especially hate that he’s right.
“I told you to take your magic and leave,” he says. “You refused— or I assume you did, as you’re still here. When I learned that the queen could be at risk, of course I immediately came to the palace to warn her of the danger. I was rather shocked to see her demise.”
That makes me frown. I think of the queen moving through the palace like a ghost. “She’s not . . . she’s not indemise.”
“Well, she certainly looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks. It’s no secret to anyone among the nobility that she’s grieving the loss of her husband as if he’s an insect- ridden corpse, and not simply sitting on his own throne— where he should’ve been all along.”
Now I want to shove him out of the trap. “Truly, Alek, I can’t imagine whyanyonewould consider you a villain.”
He chuckles under his breath. “Despite your lying and deceit, I really have missed you, Callyn.”
I feel the impact of that sentence like a punch to the face. “There’s been nolying and deceit.”
The smile slips off his face. He glances over, but says nothing.
His silence is sharper than a word would be, and I scowl. Fine. Maybe there’s been a little deceit.
We’re well away from the palace now, and the wind tugs at my hair, a welcome relief from the blazing sun. The dead heat of summer was always a challenge in the bakery. Milk would spoil and eggs would rot,and mice always got into everything. I’d sometimes try to hang supplies down the well to keep them cold, but then I discovered Jax’s father was skimming from the food, so I had to stop.
I never told Jax about that. He would’ve been humiliated.
Thoughts of my friend make my heart give a tug. I’ve wanted to send him a letter for months, but so much has happened that I’ve never known what to say. I certainly couldn’t write to him about Alek. Admitting my failures in the arena with Verin would’ve been humiliating, and I would’ve been terrified word would’ve gotten back to Verin herself. I might’ve trusted Lord Tycho with a secure message— but he and the king left so abruptly that I never had a chance to send anything at all.
I’d give anything to whisper in the bakery with him again, or to shiver around the forge. We might have been hungry and cold, but we werefriends.
Instead, I’m stuck here with Alek.
Did I lie to him? Yes. But I had no choice. What does he think, that I could simply say,“You know how much you hate the king’s magic? Guess what I have!”
But as the vehicle rattles along, I want to squirm in my seat. I’m remembering the moment Lord Tycho healed Jax’s hand after he’d been badly burned in the forge. I had no idea Tycho had magic at all, and once he used it, I faced him with a knife and a frying pan. Jax yelled at him and chased him out of the bakery.
Was that different? Or the same?
“It wasn’t deceit,” I say softly now. “You made it impossible to tell you.” “How?”
I cut him a narrow glance. “Youknowhow. You hate magic. You practically plotted the king’s death.”
“Becausehismagic endangered the queen.” He pauses, glancing my way, his blue eyes piercing. “Does yours?”
