“Why are you telling me this?” Zan demanded. “Why now?”
“Things didn’t go quite as I planned,” I continued. “I didn’t count on the Tribunal?
?s takeover. That made things a little more difficult. I didn’t expect to have to bring my little brother along, either. He believes that I’m an Achlevan spy and that he’s helping Lisette uncover my treachery, poor thing.”
“Was any of it real?”
“I have grown . . . fond . . . of you. And I thought, when we talked this afternoon, that maybe I could make it work after all . . . but then I followed you into the hall and hid. I heard everything that was said there, and I . . . I just can’t.” I thrust his mother’s ring back into his hands. “You and your father are the only Achlevan royals left, which means the instant you marry someone—?anyone—?she becomes a target to bring down the wall. It’s a risk I can’t afford.” I thought of the rings Aren showed me. “In fact, you should just never marry at all. If you die without blood heirs, the wall will stand forever.” And you will live a long, full life.
“You think I should die alone?” Zan was so astounded, he almost sounded amused. Then his expression changed. “No.” He came to me suddenly, putting both hands on my face, eyes feverish. “Emilie, Aurelia . . . whoever you are . . . I love you. And despite everything you’ve told me, I think you love me, too. Please, please say you do.”
Oh, Empyrea! I cast the most fervid prayer of my life into the heavens. Help me!
I said, “I can’t.” I put my hands over his and pulled them gently down from my cheeks. “Nathaniel is camping tonight just off the southwest road toward Ingram. I think it would be wise for you to meet up with him. Maybe you can stay in Ingram for a while until you—?”
My fingers grazed something at his wrist. I yanked up his sleeve, revealing a leather cuff. My firebird charm was sewn into the band like a talisman, exactly as Aren had shown me.
My breath caught. “Take it off.”
“What? No—?”
“Take it off!” I snarled as I tried to wrench it off myself, fingers curled into claws.
He snapped his arm back, scrutinizing my face with disbelief and something akin to grief as the impact of my revelations finally landed. The Emilie he cared about didn’t even exist.
Wordlessly, he retrieved a piece of paper from his pocket and thrust it into my hands before he turned and was gone.
I waited until he was out of sight and then opened it carefully, heart in my throat.
It was a sketch of a girl absorbed in a spell book, one hand propped under her chin, the other turning a page. The drawing was in Zan’s dark, expressive strokes, and details were spare, but there was a sweetness to the curve of her neck, the delicate turn of her wrist. This was not the towering, terrifying witch of his other drawing. The subject here was just a normal girl in a quiet moment, as seen through the eyes of someone who loved her.
I sank to the stones and buried my head in my arms, my devastation complete.
* * *
I put one foot in front of the other. It was all I could do. I’d burned down my hut and my connection to Zan. Kate was dead and Nathaniel was gone and the last deaths required to bring down the wall were stayed, hopefully forever. There was nothing left for me in Achleva. I had only one objective now: retrieve my brother. Once he was safe, I would be able to return with single-minded focus to destroying the Tribunal. If I had to face my own oblivion to do it . . . well, all the better.
I went to the castle the usual way, past my smoldering hut and down the passage to the tower, where the water was still ankle-deep from all the rain. I had to put my hands against the walls to keep from falling in a few places, cringing at the slimy film now covering them. After climbing up from the alcove opening, I was surprised to find someone standing a little farther down on the rocky shore, staring out toward King’s Gate. It was too late to try to conceal my passing; the figure turned at the sound of my footfalls.
I shrieked and lost my footing when I saw his face, narrowly catching myself by snagging a bloodleaf vine before I could go over the edge and onto the rocks below.
King Domhnall was dead.
The spirit watched me climb back up with a snarl curled permanently into his lips, his throat hanging open below it, blood spilled all down the front of his golden doublet. I treaded carefully toward him; his was an ugly soul in life, warped by rage and greed. Dying did not seem to leave him much improved.
I reached toward him, tentative and slow, but he didn’t wait for me to gain the courage to touch him; he snatched my wrist in his fleshy paw, wrapping his cold and clammy fingers tight around my bones. I tumbled, headfirst, into the last moments of his mortality.
“The plan is still good,” the king was saying. He was standing beneath the gate bearing the visage of his ancestors. “I’ve fulfilled my side of the bargain. No reason to deviate now.”
“Still good?” Toris’s lip twitched. “Our executioner is dead. The prince has broken the betrothal and resigned himself to exile. I don’t know how things could possibly be worse. You’ve failed me, Domhnall. You almost had everything you wanted: forgiveness of your debts, freedom from your barons, and unquestioned rule over two kingdoms for the rest of your life.” He shrugged. “Too bad your brother Victor isn’t still alive. At least then I’d have another option.”
“Another day, maybe two, is all I need. I heard a rumor about a kid in the Canina District. Pretty sure it’s mine. I remember the mother—?”
“We don’t have two days to wait for you,” Toris said. “The black moon is upon us. The deadline fast approaches.”
“You don’t have to kill me, Toris!”
Toris took him by his collar and said, “Ah, but I do. Because, you see, my mistress commands it.” He drew his knife.