In the darkest corner of an abandoned barn, Valerie huddles against a haystack and lights the tiniest spark by which to read the Book of Shadows.
It’s the first time in weeks she’s been in a part of Maskamere that still has magic. They must be close to Jairah. And she must snatch any chance she can get to learn her craft before the Drakonians find her.
She opens the book. Once again, the ink on the page forms into a question:
Do you have a purpose?
*
The grey light of dawn had yet to show itself when Valerie slipped into Avon’s bedchamber.
The curtains were shut. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. She moved like a ghost, treading lightly, and stopped to curl her hand around one of the bedposts. Darkness drained the colour from the room, but she made out his sleeping form, sprawled out and naked from the waist up—at least that she could see—his hair delightfully mussed. Stubble darkened his jaw. His eyelids were closed, his breathing soft.
She found herself staring at the hollow of his throat. And she remembered the sensation of his hand around her neck, the shock of him pressing her against the wall. What if she returned the favour? She could stop his breath. Choke the life out of him. Every night in the palace she had dreamt of another way to kill him. A knife in his heart. A pillow to smother him. Poison to drip between his lips.
It had comforted her to imagine herself so dangerous, kept her from dwelling on fear.
But the moment she had departed Maskamere’s shores, everything was thrown out of balance.
“James,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
He stirred. The name felt strange on her lips. There’s power in a name, she thought. Someone had told her that once, though the memory escaped her.
His eyes opened. Then she flinched as he shot upright and nearly lunged at her before catching himself.
“Valerie. What are you…?”
“The guards let me in. Didn’t even search me. I could have slit your throat.”
She climbed up on the bed and made a slicing motion across her neck.
He slumped back against the pillow. “It’s too early for this.”
“Well, I woke up early. My back was hurting.”
She pulled her silk robe around her shoulders, sitting with her legs tucked under her. He passed his hand over his eyes.
“What do you want?”
“You said we could talk in the morning.”
“I meant after dawn.”
“You’re pretty like this,” she said. “Like a startled owl.”
“Please either say something useful or leave.”
She considered him. No, she hadn’t come to torment him, no matter how much he deserved it. She hadn’t slept soundly not because of her back, but because she knew she couldn’t leave any ill feelings between them.
“I was thinking about what you said last night,” she began. “I don’t want to be your enemy either. We have too many enemies out there—” she waved a vague hand—“to be fighting in here. You accused me of being disloyal. And that hurt, because I’ve shown more loyalty to you than I have to anyone in my life. You’re the only one who knows about the queen and the goldentree. I haven’t told anyone else. I told you everything—”
“You didn’t tell me everything,” he said quietly.
She tensed. “What?”
He sat up, leaning forward. “I know about Priska.”
It took her a moment to work out what he meant. “The letter? I was protecting her, I didn’t want—”
“Are you protecting anyone else?”
It was a sharp question softly asked. She suppressed a shiver.
“No,” she said. “No one else. You have to know the risk I’m taking. You could keep me here if you wanted to. Stop me from ever going back.”
“Perhaps that would be safer.”
“If you think that, you may as well kill me now.”
“Val,” he said, shocked.
“No, I mean it.” She looked away. “That’s what I’m scared of. That’s why I didn’t say anything before. I’m scared that you’ll think it would have been better if I’d never woken up after that night in the temple. It makes sense, right? They’re all pointing fingers at me to make you look bad. I’ve become a burden to you. That’s why I had to look for another way out.”
“Spare me the excuses. I understand why you did it.”
It was a sliver of hope, but she leapt on it. “Then you’ve changed your mind? You’ll help me?”
“If by help, you mean take you back to Maskamere, no.”
She could have slapped him. “Avon—”
“I said no.” He cut her off. “Never go into enemy territory without a plan, Val.”
“Then help me come up with one! This election doesn’t matter. None of it matters. We can’t just sit around and waste our chance.” A horrible thought entered her head. “Am I right to be scared? Was that your plan all along? To keep me here, powerless?”
“You know that’s the opposite of what I want.”
Was it? He’d strung her along this far, hadn’t he, with promises of a crown and magic and the silvertrees’ restoration. But that future seemed further away than ever before.
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“Valerie.”
The bed creaked as he shifted, moving forward to set his hand on her shoulder. She forced herself to meet his gaze, caught by its intensity. No walls between them. If he wanted to make her his consort, his pet, he could have done so already. She looked at his face, the harsh, uncompromising lines, the shape of his jaw.
He was all stillness.
“Do you trust me?”
She hesitated. “You told me not to trust anyone.”
“Even so.”
“I…” She felt the thorniness of the question despite its apparent simplicity, like a thousand pinpricks digging into her skin. Could she trust him? Did it matter, when she’d laid everything out for him and he’d denied her at every turn? “I trust you more than Titus. More than the queen.”
“Then trust me now.” He tipped up her chin. “I have an offer to put to you, if you’ll hear it. Give me twenty minutes. I need to get dressed.”
He turned away, sliding off the bed. She stared at his retreating back as he padded into the bath chamber, then shifted over into the warm space he’d left behind and made herself comfortable. The sun rose, its rays filling the chamber with light, and all the while hope filled her too.
Avon listened to her. She counted on that. He would see the bigger picture here. He would see patterns and possibilities that she couldn’t, and if only they could find some common ground, they would find a way through this together.
She hoped.
Presently, he emerged from the bath chamber, and Valerie allowed herself the luxury of putting her scheming to one side for a minute and instead simply admiring him as a specimen. Tall and lean, he moved with the easy grace of a predatory creature. Sometimes he loomed so vast in her mind that he seemed to carry the entire weight of the Empire within him, the teeth and claws of Drakon wrapped up in the shape of one man.
But he was only a man.
A small scar cut across his collarbone. He carried other imperfections too: callused palms, a bruise on his shoulder, crooked teeth. If she had her magic, if he let her, she could fix all that.
Not the nose though. She’d grown to like the aquiline nose.
Avon stopped in the middle of the chamber, one hand holding up the towel wrapped around his hips. He raised an eyebrow at her. She raised hers back.
No, she wouldn’t look away.
She watched him get dressed without comment. His manservant buttoned his waistcoat, polished his shoes. All in all, his morning routine took less than half the time of her own. Avon dismissed the man, then walked over to his desk where he opened a thick leather-bound book. He sipped his cup of tea and glanced over at her.
“Are you going to continue gawking, or would you like to hear what I have to say?”
She tied her robe again and got up to join him. A second cup awaited on the tray; she poured the teapot without asking.
Meanwhile, Avon began copying lines from his book to a blank sheet of paper.
“I know you’re eager to return home,” he said, “but going back to Maskamere isn’t the answer. Not yet. You said yourself, you don’t know how to stop the queen. I’ll remind you that you promised to help me here first. Once you’ve completed that task to my satisfaction, then I’ll fulfil my end of the bargain to help you destroy your queen—but only when you know how to do it.”
“I thought you were going to make me an offer,” she said. This wasn’t any different to what they’d agreed before.
“I am.”
He finished scratching the last line on his paper, then slid the sheet over to her. She took it and frowned. It was a list of names. Lords of Drakon, Masters of this and that. She recognised the Patriarch’s name, Rupert Gideon, but most of them were unfamiliar.
Valerie looked over at Avon, uncomprehending.
He leaned back in his chair. “These are the names of some of the most prominent men in Drakon. Some were members of the Emperor’s Council that voted in favour of conquest against Maskamere shortly after I returned from my diplomatic visit. Others are influential members of the Senate, whose support could turn the tide in the election.”
She looked down at the list. “Which is which?”
“I’m sure you’ll find out. I know you won’t stop your little investigative side mission no matter what I have to say about it, so consider this a favour. I’ve already spoken to the Duke of Arden. In the coming days, we’ll cross off all the names on that list.”
She was too stunned to speak.
“Any information you glean about the war is to be used only as a bargaining chip against the queen,” he continued. “Not to undo everything we’ve done.”
“But—”
“If what you say is true, then right now Shikra is trapped and powerless. This is our best chance to stop her for good. We cannot risk bringing her back to life.”
She swallowed an angry response. They were in danger of retreading old ground.
“I understand,” she said instead.
“As for your present duties, I think it’s time I properly introduced you to Drakonian high society.”
“As your consort?”
He nodded. “Much as I disapprove of your scheming, you do exhibit all the qualities required to survive in this court. After your performance at the Senate, no one will believe you are some sweet naive girl under my power. I’m going to let you do what you do best. Play your game of whispers, make your allies, strike your deals—as long as you do it for me.”
So he intended to unleash her like some viper into the Drakonian court. Something she’d done must have impressed him. She felt a strange pride in that.
Still… “I appreciate your confidence,” she said, “but you should know that Titus thought this exact tactic would win him the election. The more visible I am, the worse you’ll do.”
“Titus is surrounded by the Patriarch and his cronies. Not everyone in Drakardia is blinded by fear. The senators I’ve spoken to are curious about you. It will be to our benefit to show off the woman behind the witch, so to speak.”
In the face of his certainty, she didn’t have enough evidence to contradict him. Regardless, she’d soon find out.
“Fine,” she said. “What about your father? Have you managed to convince him?”
“He won’t lay another hand on you. The rest will take time.”
And back to their ticking clock. She frowned. What had he really offered her? A list of names that she could have found out anyway. She felt reassured that he had her back again, that he was even willing to let her play the spy, but…
“I want more,” she said.
His brows rose. Then he stepped out from behind his desk. “More?”
“I want the silvertree. Titus’s seedling.”
“You want magic.”
“I don’t want magic. I need it like air. I’m drowning.”
The visit to the greenhouse had felt like finding an oasis in the desert. Besides, how else would she ever figure out a way to defeat the queen? She looked up at Avon, hoping that her feelings shone through, that he would see the sincerity in her eyes.
He exhaled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Relief overwhelmed her. She grinned, then stopped immediately when he snatched up her wrists.
“I’m showing you this confidence because you shared your confidence with me,” he said quietly. “But if I sense even the slightest whiff of sabotage, I will not show you mercy. Do you understand me?”
He recognised it too, the shift that had caused their argument the night before, the gulf that threatened to divide them. Their goals had diverged. He had no desire to undo the war. And the easiest way to change his mind would be to ruin his plans, to force him to go back.
She could do it easily if she wanted to.
“I understand,” she whispered. “I promise, I wouldn’t ever do that to you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He let go, stepping aside. “One more thing.”
He rang a small bell on the wall, prompting his manservant to reenter the chamber. The man bowed. Avon whispered something in his ear that she didn’t catch, and the man departed.
“Avon?” she said uncertainly.
He held out his arm. “This way.”
He led her out of his quarters and into the hallway that connected his rooms with Ophelia’s. Guards stood at both their doors. Valerie frowned, looking around, when Priska emerged from Ophelia’s quarters. Catching sight of Avon, she dropped into a curtsy.
“Stand up, Priska.”
She did, trembling. It was strange watching her. Valerie saw some of the same fear that she had gone through in Avon’s presence—the terror of being at the mercy of an enemy and not knowing whether he might hold out his hand in grace or raise it to strike a blow.
“You are hereby dismissed from our service.” Avon spoke in a cold, even tone. “Collect your things and begone within the hour.”
Valerie gaped at him.
Priska turned white. “My lord—”
“No arguments. Leave.”
Priska’s eyes found hers, filling with tears. “My lady, please…”
The girl was begging her, not only with her words, but with her very being. And she remembered the promise she had made—
“We stick together, okay? I’ll take care of you.”
But she also remembered Priska’s betrayal. The stolen letter. How foolish the girl had been.
“I don’t care that you’re sorry. I care that you don’t do it again.”
Avon nodded at his guards. “Escort her out.”
Tears flowed down Priska’s cheeks. But she never took her eyes off Valerie, not when the guards approached, not when they dragged her, shocked and stupefied, away down the hallway and back towards the servants’ quarters.
Valerie stared back, a strange, unpleasant itch pounding behind her forehead, like she wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t spring out. Priska had betrayed her. She did not need Priska at her side.
Avon’s hand settled on her shoulder. “Good,” he murmured.