I watched my borrowed face blur in the mirror, revealing my familiar contours. ‘A day, maybe less,’ I muttered, temples throbbing from the effort put into maintaining the spell.
‘My lady?’ a maid asked. I ground my teeth and gathered the skirt of the voluminous dress I was forced to wear.
‘I need to see my father,’ I told her, my hand to my chest and eyes filled with concern. ‘He’s been working so hard lately.’
‘He’s not– My lady, please wait!’ she said, chasing after me, but I was already at the door. It was time to act. I might never have gotten another chance for Tivala to be away from the castle.
‘You won’t stop me seeing my father. Get out of the way,’ I told the men guarding the door as they tried to block my way.
‘He’s down by the docks, my lady. Please return to your room,’ one answered politely but in a no-nonsense manner.
‘So, you still remember I’m your lady?’ I jabbed a finger into his chest. I didn’t know how Inga behaved towards her people, but I’d seen enough spoiled nobles to mimic their attitude. ‘Lead me to my father’s office. I need to prepare it for his arrival, and don’t dare lay a hand on me.’
The man paled when I pushed forward, using my bosom as a battering ram. I’d walked to Tivala’s office countless times, bringing him small gifts each day: a piece of cake, some wine, a warm blanket. Ernesto was surprised at first, then annoyed, but the healer insisted that my head injury was the cause of this odd behaviour.
Now the guard didn’t even bat an eye when I came up with another dumb excuse. He just sighed. ‘We don’t know when your father will return, my lady.’ He trailed behind me while the other guards sniggered at his misfortune.
‘Splendid. Send for a tray; he’ll need his wine and cheese. Tell the cook to prepare some meat pies as well.’ I scoffed whenmy guards hesitated. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, do I have to spell everything out? Shoo, go fetch the food.’
I stomped my foot, eyeing his dagger. I could pull him into the office and finish him quickly, but if I killed every clueless man for following orders, the bodies would litter the hallways.
‘Fine, please stay in your father’s office, my lady. If you try escaping, I swear to the gods I’ll throw you over my shoulder regardless of your dignity and status,’ he said, gesturing for another soldier to guard the room.
‘How could I escape from a guarded room? Besides, since my father isn’t interested in marrying me off, I have no reason to leave.’ I shrugged, tilting my chin up. My guess was that a simple guard wouldn’t know his master’s plans, so the excuse sounded plausible, and I hid the immense relief when he grunted and left the room.
Alone in my enemy’s lair, I couldn’t help but look around. Tivala’s office was simple, and so cold that goosebumps prickled my skin. It wasn’t the temperature itself that brought this sense of detachment and dread. The place was soulless and cruel, with bare walls adorned only with military trophies. It had plenty of harsh grey light; the windows overlooking the raging sea were its dominant feature.
I walked towards one of them, leaning on the frame. I’d never been alone long enough to assess this escape route. There was no climbing out of this window, but as I checked, I noticed a galleon with an ominous red sickle surrounded by a golden laurel on an emerald field. The flag of the Tangra Empire was painted on pristine sails. They were full as the ship pushed forward, mocking all my efforts.
It was only one ship, but I could easily picture the entire bay filled with those sails if they failed to build the Wey Gates.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
Ironclad resolve filled my chest. Jagon wanted to bend before this hurricane broke over us. Rey would fight it head-on, clashing with the Hierophant and Tivala like a storm giant. I was going to change the wind, weaken it until it was nothing but a light breeze, breaking on the high cliffs of Dagome. Still, there was no point in staring.
I rushed into action. The bookcases were on both sides of a massive fireplace, and if Inga was right, I needed to find the right book to gain entrance to Tivala’s safe. I walked over, avoiding the painting that hung above the mantel. Despite my best efforts, my gaze drifted to the full-body portrait of Ignac Tivala, pervert, murderer, and the only male heir to Tivalaran… The man I’d killed with a kiss.
I sucked in a breath, facing the detached gaze of a man who used women’s suffering as inspiration for his art. ‘I hope you rot in Veles’ cauldron, you sick bastard,’ I muttered, rubbing my shoulders. Then, as quietly as I could, I moved on to search the bookshelves.
It took too much precious time before I foundTheChronicles of the First Necromancer’s War. By the time I finished sliding my fingers over the spine of every manuscript, I was coated with dust, and my heart hammered like a racing horse.
I pulled the book towards me, hoping it would open some trapped door. Instead, it came out normally. A dark hole mocked me, but when I pushed my hand into the gap, I could feel something in the wall behind. Probably a keyhole
‘It looks like Lady Tivala forgot to mention needing a key.’ I sighed, pondering one question. Did Tivala carry the key with him or hide it in the room?
I began a frantic search, first of Tivala’s desk, without success, despite finding three hidden compartments. I returned to the library, studying every book to check for dust before pulling out the suspects, but found nothing. I was fucked. Royally screwed.I reached for a paperweight and aimed at the portrait. As I focused on it, something caught my attention: a flash of gold in an otherwise dull frame seemed to wink at me.
Then I saw it: a key, hidden in plain sight. It was masterfully woven into an intricate ornament, and within my reach. I pulled it from the frame and almost cried when, with a sharp click, the bookcase popped open, creating a gap I used to open the door. Behind it was another room – or rather, an annexe – filled with files and manuscripts.
‘Please be here… Please be here,’ I muttered, rummaging frantically among the manuscripts.
There were so many of them.
One by one, the papers fell on the floor while I pulled everything from the shelves, checking frantically. Military reports, financial ledgers, srebrec contracts, and finally, at the bottom of the small box, I found an old schemata drawn on the fae-marked vellum. That had to be it. Whether someone stole it from the fae or Tivala was working with them, that had to be it. These were the instructions for building Wey Gates and opening a portal.
‘Thank fuck for that,’ I muttered, pushing the papers into my bodice. I wasn’t done yet, but I’d already spotted the last part of my mission. The large wax seal of the Kingdom of Dagome revealed the marriage contract before I even unfolded the scroll. The unbreakable bond between the king and his betrothed stared me in the face, mocking the connection I’d forged with my berserker.
I pushed the rest of the fallen papers into the alcove and closed the hidden door. I’d spent so much time here that I was surprised no one came knocking. The large window darkened as the sun began setting, and dark, stormy clouds covered the sky, threatening a winter storm. The sea below rolled, its turbulent waters hitting the cliff wall with steady fury.
