Everard tilted his head. Somehow the level of danger in the room shot way up. “Move me, Sol.”
“Let’s not do this,” Solentine said.
Yes, absolutely. Let’s not.
Everard’s voice was almost casual. “When it happens—and it will—remember, you forced my hand.”
Solentine blinked and shook his head. “Out of the question. Besides, didn’t you want to keep your options open?”
“My options are not your concern.”
And he had just told Solentine not to worry about it. Not only was he not moving away from me, his whole body communicated that no force in Rellas could shift him.
“This would never work. You don’t even know her,” Solentine said.
“What do you mean, Lord Dagarra?” Everard looked genuinely puzzled. “Of course I know her. She is Lady Marigold Demarr, your charming, clever cousin, granddaughter of the Iron Raptor and niece of my closest ally, Margrave Izarn Demarr. I’ve known her since she was nine years old. We’ve met every time I’ve come to visit your uncle’s domain. You might say we are childhood acquaintances.”
Solentine looked slightly green.
“Thank you for removing the obstacles in my way,” Everard said. “So considerate of you.”
“Sauven will lose what’s left of his mind.”
“It is a fine, long-standing tradition in my family to not give a fuck about what the Savarics think. I plan to continue it.”
Solentine swore.
“You need me to legitimize this scheme,” Everard said. “Have no fear, I will back you up. It’s in my best interests.”
What the hell were they on about? Somehow Everard had gotten the best of Solentine, but I couldn’t quite figure it out.
It didn’t matter right now. The adoption was done. I had a family, a lineage, and a crest. I was no longer a person without papers or status.
I had new parents.
Right now my real parents were probably still looking for me. The police search—if there had been one—had likely been called off. Too much time had passed. I was probably presumed dead, and my mom and dad were grieving.
I’d thought of them less and less as time went by. I only remembered them when something terrible happened and I felt sorry for myself. I had no idea how to go home and no clue where to even look for a way to get there, and meanwhile every day here was a fight for survival. People’s lives depended on what I did next.
If I explained this adoption to my parents, they would understand. They would even encourage me. Anything to help me endure and survive.
It didn’t matter. Signing that paper had felt like a betrayal.
Guilt smothered me like a heavy wet blanket. Everard said something, Solentine said something else, and I didn’t hear any of it. I just sat there quietly, struggling to breathe.
CHAPTER30
The carriage climbed a winding road veering through the steep hills southeast of the city. I pulled the curtain aside, letting the night air in. Kair Toren lay on my right and below. The night had barely begun, and windows and lanterns still glowed bright, the city shining with sparks of man-made fire like a swarm of fireflies cradled in the gloved hands of the dark, ridged hills. Above it the bottomless night sky soared, with Prata still full, and the other two moons in waxing crescent, Drao, red and angry, and Broe, glowing an eerie, magical green.
Across from me, Everard sat on the carriage bench, a liquid dark shadow. After Solentine had left, Everard helped me down the stairs. Two men came to see him, both wrapped in worn cloaks, probably his retainers. Solentine had referred to them as two human statues and that wasn’t far from the truth— both looked stone-faced and stoic. They’d gone into our basement to discuss something. Now one of them was driving this carriage and the other one rode shotgun.
While Everard had his discussion, I went into the kitchen, drank very hot tea with too much honey in it, and nodded as Shana and Clover discussed the menu for the next week. I approved Clover’s budget.
I should’ve gone into my study, but instead I loitered. I sat in the courtyard in the sun for a while, then in the kitchen with Shana, and after Clover came back, I made a fresh batch of soap, half with breberry and half with maiden-flower. And every time I zoned out, a little voice in my head askedWhat if the Butcher came back to life?
By the time evening rolled around and Everard came to find me to take me on this trip, I was ready to rip my hair out.
There was no logic to it. Solentine was right. Dead people didn’t rise again; unless they were me. This was trauma rearing its ugly head.Remember how you died? How much it hurt? Remember beating a living person to death with a mace?
