She was infatuated—with the woman, with the taste of forbidden fruit, with the idea of freedom.
Her brother was dead, her father was sliding into madness, and Syr was a trap, a mausoleum, a monument to death.
“Run away with me,” she said. “Let’s leave this place, never to return. There must be so much world outside, so much happiness to snatch from the boughs of fortune.”
Ferisa let out a deep, throaty laugh that made Melia’s skin prickle. “Where would we go, little raven?”
“Anywhere but here,” Melia replied. “There must be a place you’ve always wanted to see.”
Ferisa turned to her, propping herself on her elbow. She was smiling, but her eyes were burning with that hard, angry fire Melia had learned to dread. “With what money, what horses, what guards?” She ran her hand down Melia’s hip. “You’ve lived your whole life sheltered here, behind these impregnable walls. You think your lot is hard, but let me tell you—the outside world is harder.”
The outside world wasn’t filled to the brim with death, Melia wanted to say, but how did you say that to someone who spooled death out of thin air every day and wove it into the shimmering red-and-black fabric of loss? Instead, she said, “I’m not afraid of the outside world, not if I’m with you.”
“Brave words.” Ferisa’s smile was a crescent moon hanging in the starless sky. “But I wouldn’t be so rash. You’ve lived here, behind these walls, your whole life. You’re the heiress, the lord’s only daughter.”
Melia pressed her lips together so hard it hurt. Ferisa should have known that being the Black Lord’s daughter meant nothing in terms of comfort or safety. True, she wasn’t hungry orhomeless, but she wouldn’t wish the brutality of her existence on anyone.
“You never had to sleep on the hard, cold ground, with the wind lashing you all night,” Ferisa said. “You’ve never had to leave everything behind and run for your life because some crooked innkeeper accused you of theft. You’ve never gotten beaten within an inch of your life because some man didn’t like what you said. No, little raven, the outside world is not a good place for a woman without protection.”
“I’d still go,” Melia whispered stubbornly, holding on to her pillow, a makeshift raft on the ocean of heartache. “I’d go with you, because this is no life.”
“You say that now, but you’re about to marry a prince. You’ll change your mind when you become a pampered court lady.”
“Damn you, Ferisa.” Melia’s eyes filled with tears. “Why would you say that?”
Ferisa let out a languid laugh. “I’m teasing you, little raven. No, you’re not a court creature, I guess.”
“I don’t want to marry a prince and go to court,” Melia said.
“I’ll follow you.” Ferisa’s solid, calloused fingers stroked Melia’s face. “You’ll do what you must and I’ll stand by your side. And when it’s over, we’ll run away together. I promise you that.”
• • •
“Hold the carevna,”Ferisa ordered.
“No, stop!” Melia cried, but nobody paid any attention to her.
The guards grabbed Aratea between them, lifting her like a doll, and pulled her towards Ferisa, standing like a spirit of vengeance in the small garden. Dressed in black, dark eyes burning on a ruthless face, she looked so much like Roderi of Elmar it was uncanny. Gone was the compassionate herbalist who’d first come to Syr, gone was the death priestess capableof mercy, of spiritual insight. All that was left was this avatar of war.
Melia couldn’t recognize her, but still she ran to her side.
“Ferisa! Please, stop.”
She reached for Ferisa’s arm, but Ferisa merely shook her off like a tiresome pest, her eyes fixed on Aratea.
Melia refused to be ignored. She stepped in front of Ferisa, reaching for her face. “Ferisa! Whatever you’re doing, stop it now, please.”
Finally, the burning dark eyes turned to Melia. “Stay out of it. You’ve done your duty, you brought the carevna where I wanted her, but you must leave the rest to me now.”
Disheveled and furious, the carevna pierced Melia with her icy eyes. “Is that why you came to the embassy? To burn it down, to trap me? Was everything just a pretense?”
“No! I didn’t—”
Before Melia could explain, Ferisa gave a sign to the guards to drag the carevna away from her.
“Why are you doing this?” Melia asked. “This is not what we wanted, this is not what you promised me.”
“Pillow talk and childish dreams which evaporated fast in collision with the real world,” Ferisa retorted.
