I parted from him that night with an ache in my chest. I understood the deep love he felt for his family. The pain of feeling like they were so close yet just out of reach.
Though I was often loath to admit it, Harkin had done much to help me. I resolved to return the favor. When we returned toAcsilla, I would help Harkin find his way back to his family. They deserved more than holidays together. They deserved the quiet days in between.
Scented oils—fresh rosemary and sweet lavender—filled the air as I drew myself a bath, heating the water in batches and stirring in a collection of bathing oils. Every muscle in my body relaxed as I sank beneath the steam, and I took my time scrubbing my skin clean. I washed my hair gently, scratching at my scalp and detangling the short ends as I went.
I had taken to wearing my hair unbound since that night at the spring when Harkin had braided it as I fell asleep. I half hoped it would help me forget the memory. In equal measure, I wished he might plait it again, but I shook off the thought as best as I was able.
Every sound rang loud in the quiet cottage. The drip of water as it ran off my stretching limbs and fell back into the basin. The crackle of the burning fire and the crinkle of parchment.
I sank lower into the tub, hyperaware of my shadow against the white curtain bathed in firelight. The surface of the water caressed my jaw, lapping and soft.
“Damn it,” Harkin muttered, his frustration punctuated by the tearing of parchment between his clenched fingers.
I peered around the edge of the curtain, watching the two halves flutter spent to the floorboards. Harkin had already turned away, his shoulders tense as he strode through the door and out into the cold. It jolted closed behind him, rattling against the frame.
Knocking sounded, sharp against glass, and I pushed the curtain back. The soft fabric of my robe dragged against my wet skin as I searched for the sound. My eyes caught on a raven, tapping its beak against the window—waiting for an answer it would not receive.
Of course, I will write him back. I’ll tell him that everything is going according to plan, Harkin had said. But weeks had passed, and the raven's talons remained empty.
I climbed out of the tub, water dripping down my legs and settling in the grooves of the hardwood. My fingers twitched, mágik jumping at my summons—it was almost second nature now. The water floated into the air and settled into the basin once more.
Torn pieces of parchment called to me, the discarded letter beckoning with its curling script. The pages were fire warmed, dry and smooth beneath my fingertips.
I sank into the settee, arranging the two halves side by side on my lap. My hands shook, and I fought to line up the frayed edges.
My breathing sped before I had even read the first line. No good could come of reading this, but I had to know. I wanted to trust Harkin, but I still couldn't, and I had to understand what the prince wanted with me—where Harkin was really taking me.
Water dripped from my hair, and ink burst across the page. I smoothed my fingers over it, staining them blue-black.
I drew in a shaky breath and began to read, unable to delay any longer.
Aranti,
My patience wears thinner by the hour. Every minute that ticks by reminds me of your insubordination, and draws me closer to your punishment. How are your mother and sister these days? Well? Fed and happy on the coin I provide? Let us hope they stay that way. Bring me the girl. Now. In case I was not clear enough, I need her here before the solstice so I can suck every ounceof mágik from her useless body, and when she is dead, I will celebrate atop her ashes. Do not see yourself on the pyre with her. Finish this job, or I will finish the Aranti line.
Prince Claudian
I tore the parchment again, shredding it into smaller and smaller pieces. I fed them to the fire and watched them curl into smoke.
The prince wanted me dead. He wanted to steal my mágik and then my life. It wasn’t a surprise, not really. I had never believed the story that I would be given a better life in Acsilla, but fear rose in me anyway.
Fear and resolve.
I wanted to survive. I wanted a chance at the life Harkin had promised, even if it had been a pretty lie.
Harkin might not have known, I reminded myself—pleading in my own mind.He told me he did not know.
He might not have betrayed me. But he would. He had no other option. If the decision was between his family and me, there was no choice at all. He had already told me he would do anything to protect Adina.
I could not fault him for this choice, but neither could I trust him. Whatever the feeling clutching at my heart had been, it would have no choice but to end. I would convince it to beat to another rhythm. If only I could convince the fickle organ to release the breaking, fissuring pressure in my chest.
Chapter twenty-nine
Harkin
My heart was not working as it should. It did not pound easily, unfeelingly. Instead, the tightness that clutched at me was enough to wrest a quiet gasp from my lips. I braced my hand against my thigh. Breath spooled into the snow-covered night, puffing with every exhale. I sucked in measured breaths and willed my racing pulse to slow.
The words of the letter were imprinted on the backs of my eyelids.
