Cora tried to take pleasure in that look, knowing he was feeling a fraction of what Cora had felt when she’d learned what he’d done. Instead, she felt empty. She was still struggling to process everything Morkai had said. Everything he’d still left unexplained.
“Escort Prince Lexington to the royal coach,” Morkai said to a pair of guards. Lex went with them willingly, offering not a single parting glance before he was out of sight.
Morkai angled away from Cora to face Teryn. With his back to her, she studied her surroundings, her assets. The guard with her bow watched her through the slit in his helm, while another stood a few feet away. She noted more guards standing in the shadows along the wall between the garden and the courtyard. They were all heavily armed while all she had was a half-empty quiver. The rest of her arrows littered the charred field. Her fingers flinched, begging her to reach for one of the arrows anyway, if only to have something solid and potentially lethal in her hand.
“What about you, Prince Teryn?” Morkai said. “Will you play the hero or the fool?”
“If I agree to be your ally, will you let me leave tonight too?”
Morkai let out a dark laugh. “No. I’ve already told you. You are a gift, one too valuable to part with. So long as you are in my custody, I have the upper hand, and I will play that hand in the name of peace. As heir to Menah and the fiancé of Selay’s princess, you make a most effective bargaining piece. Your survival will be contingent upon both kingdoms’ surrender. Should you value your life, you will convince your father to accept my terms for a peaceful resolution. When I send word tomorrow about our forthcoming meeting, I will include a letter from you written in your own hand. In it you will sincerely implore Arlous and Verdian to meet King Dimetreus with surrender in mind.”
Teryn held Morkai’s gaze without falter. “If I refuse?”
“If you refuse, then you will be a silent hostage. The result will be the same. Either you speak and urge your father to see reason, or you remain silent, captive, and hope your father has the foresight to know—should he refuse to surrender and enter war with Khero—he will not win.”
Cora’s heart raced as she watched Teryn’s face. She tried to open herself to sense his emotions, but she found her shields had already crumbled. Her nerves were raw, her senses frayed. She was already feeling everything at once and hadn’t even realized it. With a deep inhale, she focused on her breath, on the solid ground beneath her feet. Little by little her mind began to clear.
“What will it be, Prince Teryn?” Morkai said.
Teryn narrowed his eyes. “I will not encourage my father to yield to you, regardless of your threat to my life. You made a mistake in telling me you sought to inherit Dimetreus’ crown. You made a mistake in showing me your dark magic. I would never let Menah bow before a blood mage.”
Morkai took a step closer, his tone icy. “No, Prince Teryn, the mistake is yours.” He lifted a hand. “Take him.”
Four guards surged forward but Teryn immediately put up a fight. Cora watched his hand come around the hilt of one of the guard’s sheathed swords. That was the last thing she saw before she plucked an arrow from her quiver and charged the guard who held her bow. The guard was surprised by Cora’s sudden attack and stumbled a step back, arms spread for balance. Cora closed in and plunged her arrow into a gap in the guard’s armor, burying it into his armpit. The guard dropped Cora’s bow to remove the arrow, taking several more steps back. He tripped again, this time over the body of the old man. The guard went down on his back, his helm tumbling off in the process. Cora gathered up her discarded bow in one hand and took another arrow from her quiver with the other. Without hesitation, she straddled the guard and thrust her arrow through his throat. Only then did she see the guard’s face. It was…a girl, not much older than Cora. Her pupils were unnaturally wide with an odd sheen over her eyes. As she choked on her own blood, the sheen began to fade, her pupils constricting to a more regular size. The girl died with tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.
Cora leapt off the guard, bile rising in her throat. She didn’t know why it should matter that the guard had been a girl. And perhaps that wasn’t what had Cora feeling so rattled. It was more that the guard wasn’t what Cora had been expecting. She’d assumed Morkai’s guards were of the same ilk his hunters had been. Rugged criminals. Mindless killers. But this guard, her eyes…they held the same sheen she’d found in Dimetreus’. These guards weren’t vile monsters cloaked in armor butpeople. People he was likely controlling in the same way he was Dimetreus. And she’d just killed one of them.
“Well done, Aveline,” Morkai said.
She whirled around, an arrow nocked in her bow. The only guards around were the ones who stood by the wall. Her eyes shot to where she’d last seen Teryn but he was nowhere to be found. She’d been so distracted with the guard, she hadn’t noticed when his fight had ended. Orhowit ended. Was he…
She shook the question from her mind and drew her arrow. Morkai lifted a palm, and she felt a sharp pain strike her chest. Her shot went wild as she heaved over, grasping her heart. The pain disappeared, but her lungs felt tight in its absence. Her gaze flew to his upturned palm. A tiny ball of crimson floated above it.
“I still have a drop of your blood.” Morkai strode closer, the red bead suspended over his palm. She held her breath, eyes locked on his hands. His grin widened. “Let’s have a private chat, Princess Aveline.”
39
Every muscle in Cora’s body was coiled tight, every limb poised for attack. Yet Morkai simply sat in a wingback chair opposite her and sipped his tea. They were in what used to be the North Tower Library, which seemed to have become Morkai’s personal study. It was a wide circular room lined with bookcases, save for one wall that bore an enormous hearth. She and the duke sat before it, a fire blazing in its core.
Cora tried not to let her eyes leave Morkai’s, but she couldn’t help noting all the changes he’d made to the room since she’d last seen it. Every window had been sealed with a tapestry. Every shelf bore far more books than there was space for, every spare inch brimming with unfamiliar volumes, some boasting unsettling titles on their spines.The Art of Blood. Grimoire Sanguina. Mastering the Ethera. A desk was pushed up against one of the bookcases, its top strewn with parchment and several enormous leather-bound tomes. A table sat at the center of the room, littered with more parchment, more books, stoppered indigo bottles, and a crystal bowl filled with some dark liquid. The most terrifying thing of all was the enormous shape of the Beast dozing next to Morkai’s chair. The creature took up a good portion of the room, its rumbling snores filling the air with a grating sound. This was the closest she’d been to the Beast. Her eyes fell on the ridge of spines running down its back. Spines she now realized weren’t spines at all but unicorn horns. Valorre came to mind again, sending an ache to her heart.
If the Beast is here, Valorre is safe, she told herself.
But what of the hunters? If they find him…
With a shudder, Cora returned her study to the duke. He sipped his tea again, then tipped his chin at the cup and saucer she held in her shaking hands. “I promise it isn’t poisoned,” he said. “Besides, that’s more of your realm of expertise, isn’t it?”
She set her tea on a small table next to her chair and gripped her armrests instead. He’d let her keep her bow and quiver. Another gesture to show how little he feared her. Her weapons lay next to her chair, tempting her to reach for them. Each time she considered the action, she remembered that ball of blood Morkai had. He’d summoned it so quickly. So easily. Where was he even keeping it?
“You said you wanted to talk,” she said, her voice coming out far shakier than she liked. “So let’s talk.”
“You have questions. Ask them.”
“You’re truly going to answer?”
“I have nothing to hide from you. It is my deepest wish to make you my strongest ally. I already know it is folly to lie to you, what with your Art. I can only imagine you’ve honed your talents these last six years.” His eyes dropped briefly to the ink on her forearms, once again eying them without even a hint of reverence. “So ask. I’ll answer.”
Cora pored over everything she’d yet to make sense of. A vision of the dead guard’s glassy eyes flashed through her mind. She closed her eyes against the guilt, banishing the sight of her hands on the arrow that killed the girl—
