“Because if you’re still poking your head out a south tower window after the wedding, instead of being over here with me, the clans might wonder why. We want to at least give them the appearance of a true commitment, don’t we, my dove? But Kaden can come visit you here in the late hours. I’m a generous man.”
“So considerate of you,” I answered. I had been in this tower before. It was where Rafe’s chamber was located, but I had never been on this floor. The Komizar led me to a door opposite his and opened it. The only light came from a small candle that glowed on a table. The first thing I noted was the walls. They appeared to be solid.
“There aren’t any windows,” I said.
“Of course there are. But they’re small, which helps keep it warmer. And look, there’s a nice large bed—enough room for two as the need arises.”
He stepped closer and gently caressed my face where he had struck it. His dark eyes glowed with power. He seemed invincible, and I wondered just how hard it would be to kill him, or if it was even possible. I heard my mother’s admonition. Taking another life, even a guilty one, should never be easy. If it were, we’d be little more than animals.
“Tomorrow is our wedding day, Princess,” he said and kissed my cheek. “Let’s make it a fresh start.” There was no one to see this performance just now, and I wondered at his gentle peck.
As soon as he left, I inspected the room. I thought the shadows would lead to something, a closet perhaps, but the small cramped space was all there was. The four windows were little more than shuttered peek holes six inches across, and the whole room was barely larger than the holding cell he had thrown me into when I first arrived. The chest and bed took up most of the space. This showed a commitment and fresh start? I was more like a tool thrown into a nearby shed.
I began searching through the clothes that Aster, Yvet, and Zekiah had delivered. The candle offered little light, but as I searched every fold and pocket, I began to despair, thinking Calantha had already come and retrieved it. It wasn’t here. I went through everything again, hoping that in my haste I had missed it, but it wasn’t in my clothes or any corner of the chest. I searched under the mattress and found nothing. I’ll be careful and put it in a real good place. Aster knew all the best secret places. A place she was sure—
I ran to the opposite corner, where a lidded chamber pot was nestled on a low stool. I lifted the lid and reached into the dark hole, and my fingers wrapped around something sharp. Aster understood the ways of the Sanctum far too well.
And though the wait may be long,
The promise is great,
For the one named Jezelia,
Whose life will be sacrificed
For the hope of saving yours.
—Song of Venda
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Just as I suspected, the morning was quiet, absent of storm and wind, and I was certain the Komizar had somehow made an agreement with an unknown god of weather. No doubt it was the god who would pay dearly at some point for the bargain he’d struck.
I had tossed all night and wasn’t sure I’d slept at all. I slid aside one of the shutters, and a blast of cold air hit me. Blinding light poured through the small opening. Once my eyes adjusted, I was stunned by what I saw. Every roof, parapet, and inch of ground in the square below was covered in a thick layer of white. It was both beautiful and frightening. How much would traveling through snow slow us down?
There was a tap on my door, and when I opened it, I saw a tray of cheese and bread on the floor and heard the scurrying footsteps of whoever had delivered it, apparently afraid to be anywhere in the vicinity of the Komizar. I ate every morsel, knowing it might be my last for a while, and then I began to dress, putting on my trousers and shirt as Rafe had instructed. Besides being more suited to riding than a dress, my trousers were far warmer. My shirt still flapped loose from where the Komizar had torn it. I smoothed the fabric up over my shoulder and used Walther’s baldrick to keep it in place.
I heard the early stirrings of the city outside. Say your remembrances from Blackstone Terrace … just after the first bell. The terrace was close to these quarters, in view from the fist-sized windows of my chamber. I judged by the sun that the first bell would ring in an hour or less. By now the Council was probably settled into the talks that I assumed were not going smoothly, judging by some of the governors’ faces last night. Were they balking at the plenty in the Komizar’s silos while their own citizens suffered with growling bellies? Discontented subjects could lead to more challenges and shorter lives. It seemed that the promise of my visions was a way to douse the fires of discontent. The Siarrah, sent by the gods, would see a victory at hand. That would fill the bellies of those in the far-flung provinces for a while.
I put on the furred vest of the Meurasi, pieced together by sacrifice, and my stomach squeezed. They weren’t all my enemies. The word barbarian was gone from my lips, except to describe a savage few, and it seemed at least one lord of Morrighan was among those few.
I’d started to retrieve the knife from beneath the mattress where I’d hidden it when I heard the door rattle. I dropped the mattress and spun around.
It was the Komizar. I stared at him, trying to quickly compose my expression to one of indifference. “You have no Council meetings this morning?”
He scrutinized me, taking his time to answer. “Why are you wearing your riding clothes?”
“They’re warmer, sher Komizar. With the snow on the terrace, I thought them a better choice for saying my morning remembrances.”
“There’ll be no more performances unless I’m with you.” He angled his head to the side, mocking me like I was a dim-witted mule. “I think I need to be there to help you remember exactly what you’re supposed to say.”
“I’ll remember,” I said sternly.
We stood there, both of us hearing the faint chants of Jezelia.
“You won’t be addressing them without me by your side,” he repeated.
I saw it in his eyes. I heard it in his tone. It was all about power, and he couldn’t relinquish even the smallest fistful that had inadvertently passed to me. The pockets of clans throughout the city who gathered in the square had grown and called for me, not him, something he hadn’t anticipated, though he had all but orchestrated it. Compared to the vast numbers in the city and his staggering army, their numbers were few, but he still wanted to control every last one of them and be certain where their loyalties lay.