“Put a shirt on,” she said, sneering at his bare chest as if it were repulsive to her. It wasn’t, but that was one of many secrets she was determined to keep. “It’s time for us to go.”
“Us,” he echoed. “As in…the three of us.”
Valorre sidled closer to her, making his approval clear.
“Yes,” she finally said through her teeth. “Now, hurry up or I’m leaving without you.”
28
For two days, they traveled northwest for the Cambron Pass. They kept a decent pace with Cora riding Hara. After throwing most of Helios’ personal items into the campfire, she’d kept all his useful belongings and took his mare for herself. She was surprised the animal was so amenable to new ownership. Based on the many snide remarks Teryn and Lex had made about Helios, she’d assumed his horse perhaps wouldn’t respect her. Hara, however, was as even tempered as Cora could hope. Valorre took it upon himself to remind her who was the better of the two of them, and Cora always made certain to reassure him that, yes, he was the most magnificent and fearsome creature of hoof and mane.
Berol flew overhead, sometimes going so far as to become a pinprick in the distance, other times diving for prey or riding on Teryn’s shoulder. She was curious about the prince’s relationship with the bird. Not enough to ask him about it, of course. She made it her mission to speak as little as possible to the boys. The less they knew about her, the better, and she had no interest in getting to know them. They were temporary allies, not friends.
By the end of the second day of travel, the Cambron Mountains loomed large ahead. On the third, Cora found the first notable tracks.
She felt her nerves begin to fray the closer they came. Taking down the first group of hunters had been a harrowing enough experience. Now she was going to do it all over again. This time she had help, although it was still up for debate whether they would prove useful.
Each night, Cora’s exhaustion was so deep that she’d fall asleep within minutes of bedding down on her newly acquired bedroll. Her slumber was—thankfully—deep and dreamless. But on the third night, after a day of tracking, stalking, and inching closer to her prey, she dreamed.
The nightmare started muchlike any other. She walked down a dark castle hall, following the pull of some terrible wrongness. Every step sounded hollow in her ears. The smell of dust and rot filled her nostrils, tickling the back of her throat. She walked forward, for that was the only direction that existed in this strange dream. A few steps more and a serving tray appeared in her hands. Then the door. That horrible, dreaded door.
She knew what she would find inside. This time, she didn’t fight it. This time, she ran for it, knowing the sooner she saw the room the sooner this dream would end. Her feet flew beneath her as she reached the threshold. Even though she’d known what she’d find, the sight of the dead queen still took her breath away. She froze in the doorway, the tray slipping from her hands. Morkai stood at Queen Linette’s side, his hands drawing the blood from the sheets, from her lips, from under her nose. Blood that seeped from no visible wound. He stopped and whipped his head toward her, and the scene shifted in an instant. Morkai wasn’t manipulating the blood, he was gesturing out of shock or panic. Part of Cora knew that wasn’t right, knew what she’d seen was real. But another part of her doubted. Doubted enough that when he called her over to help the queen, she obeyed. She gathered Linette’s cold hand in hers, uncaring that the woman’s blood was now smeared over her own palms.
The voice came next. One she expected but was startled by just the same.
King Dimetreus let out a soft wail as his eyes landed on his wife. His hand flew to his chest as he halted in the doorway. “What have you done?”
Morkai whispered to the king, “You recall what she said to the queen earlier.”
“No,” Cora said, rounding on them. She shuddered as the word left her mouth. There was something wrong about the way it failed to echo through the room. As if her voice didn’t belong there. “I didn’t mean it.”
King Dimetreus gave no indication that he’d heard her. Instead, he rushed to her, anger replacing his anguish. “You did this.You. What have you done?”
Cora trembled before the king’s rage. She knew what would happen next. Knew a dark cell awaited her. A demand for her death.
“No.” The word was louder this time. She pinned the king with a glare. “No. This time, you will listen to me. I didn’t do this. It was him.” She pointed a finger at Duke Morkai. Her gaze shot to him, meeting his eyes. They shifted from an all-encompassing black to a blue so pale it was almost silver. His lips slid into a lazy smirk.
Returning her gaze back to the king, she was startled to find him frozen. Not just unmoving, but unbreathing, unblinking.
Morkai stepped up beside King Dimetreus. “You can’t change the past by altering your dreams.”
She clenched her jaw. A strange sense of duality washed over her as her hands balled into fists—fists that felt too small and too large at once, as if she were both the twelve-year-old version of herself that existed in her nightmares and her current self. The one who slept. Who dreamed. Who raged against this scene from the confines of her mind.
“You never fought against your sentence in the past,” Morkai said.
“I was too shocked,” she replied, her older voice mingling with her younger.
“It’s useless. Besides, regardless of what you think, thiswasyour fault.”
“It wasn’t. You did this.”
Morkai waved his hand and the bedroom disappeared. Like an inkblot spreading over parchment, a new scene began to appear. Little by little, the colors grew brighter, her surroundings sharper. Her blood went cold when she realized where she was.
The dining hall at Ridine Castle formed around her. Its stone walls were decorated in intricate tapestries. The light from half a dozen candle-studded chandeliers cast everything in a warm, cheery glow. The tables were overflowing with courtiers dining, chatting, and drinking. Cora strode straight to the head table at the far wall. She knew she was late. It had been intentional. Her headaches had been coming on harder recently, and whenever she was forced to be around so many people, they became nearly crippling. No physician seemed to know what was wrong with her. There was no visible ailment. No disease of the body to treat. When she’d speak of feeling like she was being invaded by the hearts and minds of everyone around, she’d receive only unsettled stares. She’d hoped she could wait out the course of tonight’s dinner, but Master Benedict had found her curled up beneath a staircase. Now she had no choice.
Master Benedict kept his hand on Cora’s shoulder as she approached the table, his grip a reminder that there was no running away. She owed the king and queen an explanation, he’d said. Wincing at the pounding in her head, she lowered into a curtsy. She returned her eyes to the king and queen, bracing herself for the scolding. There wasn’t one. Dimetreus was deep in conversation with Duke Morkai while Linette stared pointedly at her husband, her distaste in being ignored made clear by her pursed lips. Finally, Dimetreus turned from Morkai and gestured Cora closer to the table. Before he could say a word to her, Linette interrupted. “When shall we have a ball, my love? You promised me a ball this month.”
The king claimed his wife’s lips with a kiss. “You shall have a ball, darling, but not until our son is born. You are in no condition to dance. After he’s made his appearance in the world, we’ll celebrate. We’ll have balls night after night until he’s a year old. Then we’ll host the finest party anyone this side of the Balma Sea has ever witnessed.”
