“Roman.”
“We need to get back to the fortress. Now.”
Roman knew precisely what she did, knew what it would mean if anyone had realized who they were. They would blame her for Lord Vlacik’s death after their spat, after he had insulted her and threatened to take the Asteryan throne by virtue of his gender. She would be labeled a murderer. They’d already called her a whore and a traitor and a witch. Her credibility hung on the fragile word of the Asteryan archbishop.
The possibilities clawed at her, and Vaasa fought the tears welling in her eyes. She couldn’t tell if it was fear or relief that swirled in her churning stomach. Her torturer was dead. He couldn’t harm her or Amalie any longer.
But she was sure Reid had something to do with his murder.
She stayed silent as Roman loaded her onto his horse and grabbed the reins. He trudged beside the animal in the snow, guiding them all the way to the main gates of the fortress. He never asked how she had snuck out, and she didn’t offer the information. The guards at the front gates would see her, but the only other option was to show Roman the tunnels that led from her father’s office into her family’s hidden apartment.
That wasn’t something she could risk.
The sentinels at the front gates bristled at Vaasa’s presence, turning to Roman for an explanation. He muttered somethingabout her staying out late with some of the nobles, but Vaasa wasn’t convinced the sentinels believed them, especially since he kept his cloak closed to hide the lack of his regalia. The pair watched them both closely, and their judgmental gazes caused her to shift her weight in obvious discomfort.
As they headed back to the emperor’s wing, Roman walked steadily at her side. “Say you were with me,” he insisted quietly.
“What?”
He stopped outside her door. Peering down the hallway, he made sure they were alone. Then he lifted his hand to her cheek once again. “If they ask, I will say I was with you for the entire night.”
She held his stare. “They will call me a whore.”
“They already do.”
Bitterness spread on her tongue in the form of some miserable retort, but she bit it down. Roman was right. He hadn’t said it to insult her, but rather to show her why such an alibi would be believed.
The world was always quick to believe what they already suspected.
If they pinned Vlacik’s death on her, Vaasa had only two options: She was a murderer, or she was an adulteress. Only one ended in her execution.
Vaasa took in a deep breath, then pulled away from him, shocked to discover she was reeling from guilt. She didn’t know how to look him in the eye and lie to him. To pretend she hadn’t rushed back into Reid’s arms the moment she saw him.
The relief she’d felt… that wasn’t what she’d felt when she found Roman.
He let her go this time. Without another word, Vaasa slipped through the door and clicked it shut, leaning her back against it.
No footsteps sounded. Roman didn’t leave.
He just stood outside her door, guarding the hall like any good ghost would do.
CHAPTER
22
Awrenching pull of magic broke through the haze of Vaasa’s sleep. She sat up, ragged breaths spewing from her lips, and the motion was so violent she rolled off the couch and hit the floor with an echoing slam. Pain shot up her shoulder and side. She rolled onto her back, her thick quilt now tangled around her.
“Sleep well?”
Vaasa froze. Immediately she registered the rays of late morning light that filtered through the stained glass window, washing the floor in red, blue, and green. And that voice.
She turned her head and saw Ozik. He stood near the entrance to the entertainment space, dressed in brown breechesand a tucked-in white blouse with his formal blue Asteryan coat. His arms were crossed, a scowl firmly planted upon his face.
Her mistake registered at once, the events of the previous evening replaying in her head.
She had slept through their morning training.
“You certainly gathered enough attention coming through the main gates in the latest hours of the night,” Ozik said. “Though no one seems to have a record of you leaving.”
