Had Emylia been telling the truth when she’d said her memory had been too hazy? That she’d been too distant to see the pattern clearly?
She narrowed her eyes, and her expression hardened. “Think what you want of me. Hate me if you must. Distrust me. Just please believe that all I want is to be free from my cage and take the monster who trapped me here with me.”
Teryn was taken aback by the sudden ferocity in her tone. The rage that rippled through her, strong enough to match his own.
He gave her a curt nod. “Then we continue with our plan.”
“We take him down,” she said.
To himself Teryn added,And protect the woman I love, no matter what it takes.
48
For the first time all day, Mareleau was no longer nauseous. She wanted to believe her calm stomach heralded a finite end to her morning sickness—a misleading term, by the way; she’d thank the seven gods if her roiling gut were relegated to morning—but her relief was likely due to the piece of candied ginger she’d just popped into her mouth. It was a welcome deviation from her constant refills of ginger tea and was all thanks to Ridine’s cook. Mareleau had recently learned that if she came to the kitchen to request a refill of her tea in person, the cook would dote on her and hand her a plate of the latest sweet she’d whipped up. The most recent gift being the handkerchief full of candied ginger she now held in her hand.
Mareleau suspected the woman had gleaned the reason behind her constant need for tea, hence the doting. While she’d normally be averse to such babying—she was a queen, after all—she rather liked the woman’s attention. And she certainly preferred the candied ginger over the tea.
She meandered away from the kitchen toward the keep but found her feet moving past the correct staircase in favor of a different one. One she’d already visited twice today and was forbade entrance?—
She pulled up short once she reached the stairwell in question. It was…empty.
She’d never seen the tower library stairwell unguarded. Not that she’d ever paid much attention to it before this morning. She’d come to call on Princess Aveline, and since the girl hadn’t been in her room, she figured she must already be at work in the tower. But when Mareleau inquired with the guard, he’d insisted she wasn’t there. Mareleau’s anxiety increased after that, right alongside her incessant nausea. She’d been looking for the princess all day to no avail. She tried to tell herself she was simply bored, but after their strangely comforting conversation the day before, she had to admit she wanted to check in on her. Especially since today was the day she and Teryn were to be wed. Had Aveline managed to tell Teryn about the curse? Had she made peace with her sudden marriage? Had their hushed wedding already taken place?
Mareleau knew a thing or two about such matters. Her own wedding had been hurried, but at least she’d been given a feast afterward. Yet it was already nearing sundown and Mareleau hadn’t heard a word whispered about the princess’ nuptials or her impending rise to queen.
She cast a glance down both ends of the hall, which were empty, and approached the stairwell. A shudder coursed through her as she glanced up the narrow staircase. Her ladies had whispered time and again that this was where Lurel had taken her fall. A pang of grief struck her heart, but she swallowed it down—along with a fresh piece of candied ginger, for good measure. Then, with wary steps, she began to climb.
The door at the top of the stairs was unguarded as well, left open to reveal strands of herbs hanging in the doorway. The waning evening light cast the stairwell in shadow, as well as the room ahead. Perhaps it was only the rumors that sent apprehension crawling up her spine, but whatever it was, it made her want to keep her steps slow. Silent. She lifted her skirts higher, careful not to step on her hem.
She reached the landing and slowly approached the doorway. The scent of rosemary and old smoke wafted into her nostrils. She frowned at the hanging herbs blocking the top of her view and ducked down for a better glimpse of the room. It looked like total chaos, with crowded bookshelves, a cluttered table piled with objects wrapped in cloth, and two large basins beside an empty fireplace. Mareleau had no desire to step inside the room, for she’d surely find herself covered in dust, soot, and whatever the white substance was that lined the threshold. She was about to call out for Aveline when movement caught her eye.
At the far end of the room, near one of the bookcases, a male figure kneeled. She ducked lower, catching sight of brown hair streaked with white, dark trousers, a linen shirt, and a dark blue waistcoat. He was reaching into a hole in the stone floor. She watched as he extracted two small items that looked like glass vials. He pocketed them, then reached for a large object at his side—a square stone—and gingerly set it into the hole. The sound of stone scraping stone set her teeth on edge. When he was done, there was no sign of the hidden compartment.
The man rose to his feet. Mareleau startled and took a step back, reminding herself just in time that she was at the top of a stairwell. She cast a glance behind her and flung out a hand to catch herself against the wall. When she returned her attention to the room, the man was just on the other side of the doorway. But it wasn’t just any man. It was Teryn.
Her eyes went wide. “Teryn, your…your hair! What happened?”
“Ah, yes. Everyone wants to know about my hair.”
She arched a brow. That did nothing to explain the white streaks. Equally as concerning were the dark circles under his eyes, the pallor of his skin. “Are you unwell?”
“I’m perfectly well, thank you for asking,” he said, voice smooth and disinterested. His smile held an edge she didn’t understand. Perhaps she wasn’t supposed to see him rifling around in here, digging in that hidden hole.
Well, lucky for him, it was Aveline she was concerned with, not him. She couldn’t care less about her brother-in-law. Especially if he was going to continue to act so strange. What did Aveline see in him, anyway?
“Where’s Aveline?”
He smirked. “You’ve come to know her on a first-name basis, yet you call her Aveline and not Cora?”
“She hasn’t asked me to call her Cora, and I’ve only decided as of yesterday that I sort of like her.” Though now that he mentioned it, she most certainly would start calling her Cora. Even Larylis referred to her as such. And Mareleau was nothing if not at least a little competitive. If anyone would prove to be Aveline’s—no, Cora’s—closest friend, it would be her. She’d see to it.
But first she had to find the girl.
“So,” Mareleau said, giving him a pointed look, “where is she? I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“Why?”
She lifted her hand, showing off the white gold and sapphire bracelet that dangled from her wrist. “I wanted to give her this and tell her she can’t keep it.”
