If that wasn’t it, then that meant the real events had diverged from the books before I had a chance to do anything. This answered absolutely nothing. It just raised more questions.
“I buried him next to his wife and placed his gravestone, as is the custom in the highlands. The next day I went to Taryz Teahouse. I wanted to sit in the spot where he sat and see what he saw. Then a strange woman sat at my table, called me by my dead friend’s name, told me his secrets, and offered me a chance at vengeance.”
“Why did you trust me? You knew Reynald was dead. That meant everything I said about his death was wrong.”
“You were right about enough. Reynald left me his sword and his papers. He’d kept a journal of people and creatures he’d encountered. He’d meant for it to be a military manual, I think. The story of the bronze god was in there. You knew too much. I wanted to know how you had found out so many secret things, so I went along to see where it would lead.”
“And then you spent weeks lying to me.”
“I did.”
“You should’ve told me who you were.”
“You liked Reynald. You admired him. I just watched you cry for him. Would you have traded him for a man who would kill you, your family, and your neighbors? The Sleepless Duke is a monster who solves every problem with violence. He will murder your pets, burn your house, and salt your fields . . .”
I held out my hands, trying to stop the flood of things I’d said about Everard coming back to drown me.
“Being Reynald allowed me to live a different life for a few days. He’s who I might have been if I hadn’t been born an Everard. But I am the Sleepless Duke.”
His face was calm, but his eyes had grown distant. He looked past me, across the river, to the city on the other bank.
“Most of what you’ve said is accurate and true. Except for the murdering of the pets and salting of the fields. Salting the soil is a massive waste, and the only dogs I’ve ever killed were the Empire’s battle hounds. Calling them pets is a stretch.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just stayed quiet.
“I also strive to refrain from killing civilians, but war is war. Homes burn. Fields lie fallow. People suffer. I have razed villages before, and I may have to do it again. The only way to prevent that is to keep the peace in the first place.”
It would’ve been naive and foolish to imagine that a clean war where no civilians died was possible. That was something from fairy tales. Wars were brutal, horrific, and messy. He didn’t want to fight one. He was thinking about it now, and his whole body emanated dread.
“I will save Matheo,” he said. “And I will do whatever I must to stop Hreban and Silveren from rising to power. I will not let the kingdom burn. Divine knows, I can’t stand Sauven any more than he can bear my existence, but we are surrounded by enemies on all sides. If Rellas stumbles, other nations will fall upon it and rip it to shreds. Without Rellas, Selva is doomed. I cannot hold them back alone.”
Now was as good a time as any.What do you really want, Ramond?“Have you ever wished for more?”
“As in?”
“Rellas. The throne.”
“I already have one in Wilkair. It’s carved from a solid chunk of malachite and old as the Void itself. It’s hard, cold, and uncomfortable no matter what sort of cushion I put on it.”
“I think it’s supposed to be.”
“Yes, I suppose it is a symbolic reminder about the burdens of holding people’s fates in your hands. To answer your question, no, I don’t want another chair, Maggie. Nor do I want the kingdom that comes with it. If I wanted Rellas, I would’ve taken it by now. You don’t have to worry. Our goals still align. We need each other.”
Our goals did align, and I did need him, but right now I was at his mercy. At any moment, he could tie me up, load me into a carriage, and send it up to Selva and nobody could stop him. He wouldn’t resort to brute force unless I became a threat. He was too subtle and calculating for that, and his success relied on me volunteering the information. He needed me to like him.
I couldn’t stay in this position. The power difference between us was too great, and he was too smart, too shrewd, and too magnetic. He drew me to him.
In the books Omelyana was consumed with seducing Everard. I could recall pages of longing from memory.She wanted him to touch her, to hold her, to lose himself in her. She wanted Ramond above her, that hard, muscled body slicked with sweat, the green eyes blazing, all control completely gone . . .
She kept having all sorts of sexual fantasies about him. And now I understood every one of them. He was filled with power and so controlled, he probably calculated his breaths. Imagining him obsessed with me to the point where all his chains snapped was intoxicating.
But I wanted even more. I wanted him to care. That carriage ride, when I was broken, vulnerable, and scared, and he’d held me . . . The way his strong arms felt, wrapped around me. The way he’d looked at me, like he would rip the world apart to keep me safe.
That was a fantasy, too, and it was way too tempting. Ramond vi Everard didn’t do love or affection. Better women than me had tried to get them out of him and failed, and yet I couldn’t let it go. Being in his presence was a constant test of willpower, and these were just the opening maneuvers as he contemplated the best way to win this war. If he mounted a full assault, I wasn’t sure how long I could hold out, and there was a real danger that I would be the one obsessed in the end. I needed to get a grip.
I sipped my tea. “I forgot to ask, where did you find me?”
“On Sava Island. The mordok led us there. It’s a small chunk of land off the northern part of the west coast, still within the city limits, but only barely. The island sits close to the shore, connected to the road by a narrow wooden bridge. It held two warehouses and a small dock. Very private. It’s a burned ruin now.”
