“Arrest me for treason if you think I’ve done something wrong, or let me go,” she said. “If you try to keep me locked in here, I swear I’ll dig a hole through the wall with my nails.”
He shot her a long look, frustration and worry mixing on his face. Then he opened the door and stepped aside. “I’m going to regret this.”
She leaned towards him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Father.”
“Prince Amron’s chambers are—”
“I know where they are.”
Chapter 12
Melia
Melia spent arestless night in her room, dozing off, dreaming of Syr and then waking up to check if Ferisa or Amron had returned, but neither of them showed up. At dawn, a light scratching on the door woke her from a nightmare of bloody blades and bodies hanging by a roadside.
When she opened the door, a little page bowed. “My lady, you told me to wake you at dawn.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Ferisa’s note lay crumpled under her pillow.Meet me in the cherry orchard at dawn.
Melia washed her face and, unwilling to call the maids, pulled on a dress she could lace up on her own, braided her hair, grabbed a hooded cloak, and ran into the dim, empty corridor. The sleepy guards leaning on the walls barely noticed her as she rushed past. They must have thought her just another lady returning from nightly adventures.
As she rushed down the stairs, the annoyance at being summoned like a common servant grew in her chest, but she dared not ignore Ferisa, not when she was obviously representing her father. Roderi treated Melia like a clever, well-trained hound: useful and praised as long as it obeyed every command.
The sky above the garden was pale blue, tinted with pink towards the east, and the early morning air had a salty bite to it. Melia passed the orangery, the roses, the exotic trees, and ran on the graveled paths towards the cherry trees tucked in a cornerbeside a tall wall, their thick green leaves providing a cover from curious eyes. The garden was empty at this early hour, the stone benches freezing cold, the grass covered in dewdrops.
“Where are you?” Melia whispered.
“Here.”
A dark shadow stepped out from behind a tree trunk and Melia gasped. Ferisa’s eyes were arrowfoil-bright and a bloody gash ran down her left cheek. “What have you done?”
“Oh, you’ll hear about it in the morning, don’t worry.” The corners of Ferisa’s mouth twisted in an unpleasant smile. “Your father thought it would be good to stir a bit of trouble before the main event, shaking the smug bastards. A group of Seragian mercenaries attacked Prince Amron last night as he foolishly returned to the palace without his armed escort.”
Melia’s lungs cramped, refusing to take a breath. Everybody knew the crown prince and his retinue were out last night in Abia, but she was the one who’d confirmed where they were going, she was the one who’d told Ferisa the name of the establishment.
It was all irrelevant at the moment, though. “Is he alive?”
“He’s fine,” Ferisa said. “He got away.”
Melia couldn’t recognize this Ferisa. Her companion had been ruthless but clever, a priestess conducting her priestly business behind the scenes. A subtle shadow of death, not this vulgar, garish mercenary. She wanted to ask what had happened after she left Syr, what her father had done to Ferisa, but all she said was, “Why Amron?”
“By chance. We were waiting for the other one.”
Melia recognized her father’s schemes when she saw them. The falsehood, the thirst for blood, the manipulation—it was all him. Elmar had no power to change this deal, but what if the king believed the Seragians had broken the truce?
The implications of Seragians attacking the crown prince aday before his wedding to the emperor’s daughter burst in her mind like blood from a pig bladder. What was she doing here, in this garden, pretending this was just a casual conversation, pretending she could just go back to court and act normal?
It felt so strange, being able to see both sides of the story, and yet being unable to connect them. Like images in a broken mirror. Thisis who I am with Amron, andthisis who my father expects me to be.
“You should have told me about your plans,” Melia said.
“Why? So that you could run to your husband and warn him?” Ferisa retorted. “You forgot to ask who your husband was with.”
“I thought you said he was alone.”
“No, I said he was without his armed escort.” Another smile. “It might be of interest to you that he was snuggling with a girl in a dark alley. A stunningly beautiful girl who screamed like a mad peacock and brought half the guards in Abia upon us.”
