That earns a bark of laughter. “Well, that explains it. Your missing octave alone could distract anyone from anything.” She tilts her head, eyes softening. “Do you remember what your tutor used to say?”
I splash water over my face, recalling the stout old woman who endured my lessons with visible suffering.
“If you ever feel the urge to sing in public,” I quote flatly, “do everyone a favor and take a nap. Sleep cures many terrible ideas.”
Eva laughs and tosses me a towel. I take it, drying my hands before throwing it back.
“Well,” I say, forcing a chuckle, “terrible ideas seem to be all I have lately. And I’ll admit, the few drinks I had tonight didn’t exactly improve my judgment.”
Eva catches the towel easily, giving me that long, skeptical look. “You don’t need help making trouble, Ray,” she says dryly, then her tone softens. “Speaking of terrible ideas…”
I snap my head toward her.
“You saw Mael’s new accessory?” She traces a circle around her eye, mimicking an eyepatch. “Want to know how he got it? He went to Vapor Island to ‘prove’ his remorse. The island’s keepers had to drag him back, but not before the fumes took his eye.”
My stomach twists. I slap a hand over my mouth, as if that could stop the sick feeling crawling up my throat. “Was he really intending to become a Sibyl?”
Eva shrugs, folding her arms, her head tilting in disbelief. “He did it to prove to Ryker how guilty he feels. How sorry he is. His self-loathing runs so deep he was ready to throw away everything.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Mael? Self-loathing? Please. Heloves himself too much for that.”
Unless…
A memory stirs.
Mael, standing at the top of the old sycamore tree in the Palace gardens, curls wild in the wind, a mischievous grin lighting his face.
“Watch this, Ray!” he’d called before stepping off the branch.
I’d screamed, running to where he lay crumpled on the ground, his leg bent at an awful angle. He’d cried big, heaving sobs and when I demanded to know why, asked if he’d done it on purpose, he’d shaken his head so fervently I almost believed him.
Almost.
I had seen him jump.
And yet, when they carried him inside, when he sniffled through his pain and reached for me, when I sat by his bed for weeks, guilt gnawing at my insides, I let myself believe him. Because it was easier. Because the truth was uglier.
And now, years later, here he is again, hurting himself for an audience. For sympathy. For power.
My pulse quickens as the pieces fall into place. He didn’t go there to atone. He went there to force Ryker’s hand. Mael gambled on me and lost. His position slipped, so he made another bet. Something drastic, something horrifying, something so grand that Ryker couldn’t possibly ignore it.
He wagered his own body this time, counting on his brother to save him. To believe him. To forgive him.
Because how could he not, after a spectacle like that?
I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “Unbelievable. So that’s how he weaseled his way back into Ryker’s good graces?”
Eva scoffs. “He probably blamed it all on you. Or the alcohol. Or both. Either way, he’s off the hook.”
My teeth clench, anger sparking in my chest. “And me risking my life in this godsdamned Trial isn’t enough to do the same?”
Eva snorts and pushes me down onto the stool. “What fun would that be?”
We don’t wait for my hair to dry. Eva’s fingers move quickly, weavingan intricate braid and threading red strings through its length in careful patterns that make them look decorative. Woven this way, the red is almost hidden. She finishes with a large decorative pin that pricks my scalp before settling snugly beneath her skilled fingers.
I change into a clean, golden silk gown and hurry out of my rooms. Kaelzar trails us as we go.
Four guards in stone armor wait outside, then fall in behind us again. This time at a respectful distance, thanks to Kaelzar’s warning glare and the faint ripple of shadows curling at their feet.
