“Of course.” He scowls. “Do you really think stories are going to help us?”
“I think that everything the Otherworlders are doing is a direct order from their goddess, yes. That if they truly believe in her, and she’s as mad as the stories state, then we’re up against something we’re not prepared for.” I take a cautious step toward him. “I think the Reckoning is more than a blood sport.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to work out the tension building in my shoulders. “Carina was trying to explain it to me before she died. The full moon . . . the Reckoning . . . the contenders”—I motion between us—“they’re all connected. Carina had discovered something. She was trying to warn me.”
I drop my head, close my eyes, and try to recall everything she said at the first Nactue meeting. Except I keep hearing her last, whispered word: Traitor. But who? Are the Otherworlders traitors for worshiping an exiled goddess? If she knew something that could’ve helped, why not tell the empress? Why not tell us all before we were invaded? Maybe she only speculated. Maybe she didn’t have all the answers, only pieces of the puzzle as I now have. Or maybe she was too angered by the Council’s decision to retire her to care.
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t hear Caben approach, but I’m suddenly aware of his close proximity. The charged air between us tugs at me like a live current.
He runs the pads of his fingers along my forehead, pushing
aside the hair from my eyes. I look up at him. “You truly believe the Otherworlders attacked our countries in order to serve their goddess?”
Releasing a repressed breath, I answer, “Yes.”
His deep blue eyes travel over my face, landing back on my own. “If so, how does this information help us? Will figuring out the riddle save us and the other contenders tomorrow?”
I hold his gaze. “It could. We don’t have anything else to go on.”
Biting down on his bottom lip, he nods. “I’ve discovered that finding a loophole in ones beliefs is the best way to fight—to combat someone on their own terms. I thank my father for that.” He kicks his booted foot against a rock. “If they undeniably believe in Bale, whether she actually exists or not, then they’ll take her guidance without question.”
“You mean we could find out how they’re communicating with their deity and . . .” And what? The dark priest would be the closest to a sacred channel. Is he the one giving orders? “. . . And plant new orders?” I say questioningly as the thought comes to me.
“Something like that.” His intense gaze roams over my form and my heart rate speeds. “Or they might listen to someone who they believe has a direct link to their goddess.”
Our dark corner of the training room suddenly feels as if it’s closing in. My stomach knots and tension threads my spine, clutching my body like a vise.
“And who would that be?” I ask, my voice unsteady.
He takes a step back and releases an audible breath. “I don’t know,” he says. “But if we’re to do anything at all before or during the Reckoning, we need sleep.” He jerks his head sideways. “Come on. We’ll wake early and figure it out then.”
Caben turns on his heel and heads toward the master cell, and I release the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. He can’t know of my cybernetic fix. He can’t possibly know of my connection to Alyah—that she saved my life, affecting the mercury that courses through my bloodstream. Yet, he’s aware of something.
Slowly, I take a step, and then another, trailing behind the prince as he walks the dimly lit tunnel. I find that I’m always underestimating him. He can’t know the details, but he’s caught on to the fact that I am hiding something, and he thinks we can use it.
He throws the chamber door open, and I silently follow him inside. Resting my back against the cold stone, I relax my muscles. I nearly exposed my secret to him back in the cave. I was so close to letting him in . . . and I don’t know why. Maybe because I fear we won’t live past the Reckoning. My secret is trivial compared to everything we’re now facing, yet it’s still a part of me that begs to remain hidden.
But, Caben did reveal the source of the scar he visibly carries for the world to see. Shame flitters through his eyes every time he catches me studying it. Are we that different?
Yes. We are.
He doesn’t have a foreign part pumping his blood. He doesn’t have mercury—whether blessed or tainted—running through his veins. He doesn’t struggle to control its madness.
A shattering thought splinters my brain.
What if Bale truly exists? What if Alyah wasn’t the one who touched the mercury inside of me? Alyah has never once spoken to me directly, despite my mother’s claims of her healing me. And my strength . . . the way in which I hurt my father—taking his mind . . .
No. I can’t allow my mind to go there. This dark place is corrupting me. Shaking the thought from my head, I glance over at Caben. “You take the cot tonight,” I say. “I’ll keep watch.”
Caben has already spread out on the cot, having kicked off his boots and tucked his hands under his head. He adjusts his arms, getting comfortable. I ready myself for an uncomfortable night on the floor when he says, “Get over here, Kal.”
I bristle at the command, but he continues before I can debate. “For once”—his eyes snap to mine—“don’t argue. Just lie down.”
Although offended at having been ordered, my brain is too weary, and I’m too tired to fight with the prince over his disrespect. I suppose I’ve earned his sarcasm, but the smile creeping onto his face as I approach makes me question his intensions.
“Another joke,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
He removes one of his hands from the back of his head and grabs my wrist, yanking me onto the cot. I land on my side hard with a thunk.
“Not a joke.” He positions himself on his side to face me. “But I’m surprised that only slightly roused you. Next time, I’ll demand meat and fruit with my request.”