Luca smiled gently at Mannah. “Please. What can you tell us? Were they friends? Lygia and Queen Elixane?”
After a long moment, the old woman answered, more guarded than before. “I was the head maid. Lygia was among my charges within the castle. I am sorry to say, my Otsakumea, but though they were acquainted, I doubt they were what you would call friends. I conversed more with Queen Elixane in a day than Lygia or any of my other girls would have in an entire year, and yet I would not say we were friends.”
Luca’s heart dropped. So that’s how it was in the Otxazulo, then. He’d known the environment of King Sendoa’s castle was unusual within the Sand and Sky—less formal, more familial. And it hit him with a sudden sadness that if everything were different and he’d grown up as a stableboy at the Otxazulo, the likelihood of befriending the princess—let alone forming an attachment that turned into love—would’ve been nil.
Mannah smiled softly at Ula’s crestfallen face, and the disappointment in her Otsakumea’s eyes. When she spoke next, it seemed as if the words had carefully arranged themselves on her tongue. “It is splendid that the two of you found each other. Here, like this—not at odds.”
Ula and Luca exchanged a confused glance before the pirate drew in a breath and inquired, “Why is that, Mannah?”
The woman looked between them. “Because the last order I ever gave Lygia was to take the Otsakumea and run.”
CHAPTER8
AMARANDEawoke in yet another secret of the Itspi. A chamber that looked very much like the dungeons, buried diamond deep in the mountainside. But she was not underground—daylight streamed through two windows, higher than her eyeline. They appeared to be stained glass, but the iron bars that crisscrossed the interior of the frame made it clear they were simply a way to disguise the cell from the outside.
As she sat up, attempting to gather her bearings, the world skewed sideways. A throbbing pain pounded behind her eyes as she blinked into the weak garnet-and-cobalt-filtered illumination. She had no idea if she’d been here hours or days, only that it was daylight now.
She’d been stripped of her sword and makeshift sheath—no surprise there. Gone too was the stained wedding dress—not that Inés likely would’ve wanted it back anyway—replaced by a nondescript shift, itchy and coarse.
The metallic tang of Renard’s blood clung to her skin despite her change in clothes. Her stays remained, and, over her heart, she could feel the prickly edges of the ransom note that had precipitated all this—her headlong pursuit of Luca and his kidnappers; their subsequent joyous reunion and heartbreaking surrender at the feet of Renard; and the wedding that ended with the crown prince’s blood on her blade instead of his ring on her finger.
Marry Renard or you will never see your love again.
Its presence ensured this was not a dream, detailed how far she’d come and, it seemed, how much had changed.
She’d met her mother.
Her brother.
Stars.She had a brother. Sired by her father with a woman who was his trusted general, forever confidante, and closest friend. Raised by Amarande’s own mother, after she’d stolen him away. She’d always believed the story of the Runaway Queen to be as simple as an act oflove or lack thereof, but the truth was so much more complicated. Everything these days seemed to be turning out that way.
Amarande was right-side up, but her world was upside-down.
Her value diminished and path to the throne obliterated—the crown princess usurped by a prince—albeit a prince who had no legal claim. The laws were clear. The Kingdom of Ardenia fell to the male line. Ironically, it was easier to elevate a bastard than to allow a legitimate heir to rule on her own.
And then there was Luca—plowing headfirst into a deadly situation without her by his side. She’d feared war since the moment this all began and had done her best to prevent it, but now Luca was marching into a rebellion that very much could start one. They’d been together their whole lives, she could not be away from him now. Not when he needed her most.
Their plan was in shambles, but it did not matter as long as she got to Luca as quickly as possible. Amarande stood, testing her legs. The pounding behind her temples escalated to a drumbeat, but the rest of her body seemed workable.
Amarande’s boot knife was a weight against her ankle. She checked to make sure—fingers brushing the hilt, disguised by her boot shaft. Still there, indeed. An oversight? Perhaps Koldo was human after all and could make mistakes.
Or perhaps it was left for a reason.
As she turned over the possibilities in her mind, the princess examined her surroundings more closely. Straw-filled mattress, chamber pot—wooden, and bolted to the floor—and shackles drilled into the wall. The rounded walls were as solid as anything else in the fortified castle of the Itspi, and the door the same heavy wood and iron with extra strips of thick steel crisscrossed over its length for reinforcement.
Yes, a cell indeed—one it was imperative that she escape. Get to Luca. Keep him safe from the Warlord. Fight for his right to rule in the Torrent and then come back and fight for Ardenia.
Prove to her mother, her brother, her councilors, and possibly Koldo that she wasn’t a liability. She was an asset. And she wasn’t about to spend her life hiding away, no matter the political ramifications.
The princess would not be a sacrifice.
She wasn’t one when they tried to marry her off. She wasn’t onewhen they tried to bribe her with Luca’s life. She wasn’t one now when they tried to hide her away.
With her boot knife, she could most definitely hack a hole in a wooden portion of the door, enough to see outside her circular room. But if a guard’s oversight was more than cursory, the hole and the splintered wood would be obvious and her knife would be discovered.
She started with the window. Even on tiptoes, the bars were out of reach. Worse, they were flush with the glass, and not even the slimmest fingerhold was available that would allow her to pull herself up and afford a glimpse of the world outside.
But Amarande had a plan. Boot knife in hand, she cut a strip of cloth from the hem of her thin, colorless shift. Standing beneath the window, the princess jumped, angling the tip of the strip so that it was flush with the bars each time. After several tries, she successfully threaded it behind the first set of vertical bars and was able to pull it down just enough so that she could tie the ends into a knot. The loop was not strong enough to completely support her weight, but she just might be able to hang on long enough to quickly gauge her location within the castle.
