“Holy fucking Stars, Tess,” Amarisse groans, but drops to her knees all the same. “Princess,” she breathes, bowing her head.
I still don’t know what to do—the deference catching me off guard.
Amarisse turns her body to Kael, pressing her fingers together in an inverted triangle. “I stand with Zerynthia,” she murmurs.
Pride flickers down the tether, and I know it’s not pride from himself. I feel the brand of his stare searing into me, and slowly, I lift my eyes to his.
Dravara’s Princess. His voice rumbles down the tether, sweet as honey.
His eyes entrance, his voice settles in my chest like a prayer.
But my gaze snaps back to Amarisse.
“Please—we have no time for formalities. We need boiling water and a place to hide. Can you do that?” My voice is ragged and rushed, because I know we need one hundred heartbeats, and it’s probably all we have to form a plan.
Amarisse nods urgently, mind working, forming a plan. “Do you have a healer for your injured?”
But it’s obvious.
Rubi’s already moving, unhooking elixirs from her belt, cutting herbs from her leather pouch, looking around the room to find tools and supplies she can use in the makeshift infirmary.
Her bronze eyes glint with feral focus as she snaps, “One hundred heartbeats. No less.” She reaches for a brass kettle, filling it with water from the pitcher, and placing it over the hearth.
“The healer goes with him,” Amarisse points, stabbing a finger at Therion.
“I won’t leave him,” Seren’s voice cuts through, assertive, unwavering.
“Jax is a Luminaar; she doesn’t need Shards. She can go, too,” Ronyn snaps, protectiveness palpable.
Jax opens her mouth to retort, a savage snarl on her mouth?—
“That’s it. No more space,” Amarisse snaps, and her foot presses against a small latch hidden beneath fabric cascading from the couch.
Click—
The round table tilts ever so slightly, a small gap appearing between the bottom of the table and the floor.A hidden refuge.
The table doubles as a trap door that creaks as its hinges pry open. Amarisse pulls on the table, leveraging it open, revealing a set of steep stairs that lead into an underground basement. She tips the table on its side, sending dice and forgotten tankards sprawling.
“What about us?” Ronyn asks, indignant, though his mouth lifts in a roguish smile. “Oh well, guess I’ll have to find some way of entertaining myself while I’m here. What’s a man to do in a place full of liquor, cards and courtesans?”
I shoot him a withering stare, and I don’t miss the way he flinches at Jax’s snarl.
“Hurry up, hurry up,” Rubi breathes urgently, watching the water, as if she can will it to boil.
“They’re here, Madame,” a young man says, poking his head through the velvet curtain dressed in an indulgent silk robe.
“Shit,” Amarisse breathes. “Tell them the lady of the parlor isentertainingguests and I’ll be there momentarily to show them some of my new delights,” she croons, selling the lie with the same ease Gellesk sold worthless trinkets.
The water begins to boil, and Rubi clambers for the jar. She places the Obsidian Shards in delicately, handling them with care. “One hundred heartbeats. Work fast on this plan, if you don’t mind,” she stresses, finally letting the Shards steep.
“Tessie, go! Get back to Gellesk,” Amarisse snaps, and Tess doesn’t hesitate. She’s done this before. She knows how this works. Tess looks to me, sadness heavy in her gaze. But I don’t have the luxury of goodbyes and long embraces.
“Go!” I command, and she spins on her heel before vanishing through the curtains that conceal us.
But Amarisse swings her gaze to me. To Kael. Back to me. Sizing us up, concocting a plan.
“You,” she says, snapping a finger at Kael. “You’re my new courtesan.”
