: Chapter 42

If Grey is a man of action, then Rhen is a man of deliberation. I know they were trapped in Ironrose Castle together, cursed to repeat an endless autumn for what must have felt like centuries, though time in Emberfall didn’t move much. Maybe that time is part of what made Grey so resolute and decisive. If so, it had the opposite effect on Rhen. He’s patient while I talk, rarely interrupting. I tell him everything I can think of, from sitting sentry after learning about Lia Mara losing the baby to Grey’s worry of the news reaching the court.

He exhales heavily when I get to that part. “A terrible secret to have to keep.” He glances over. “How were they when you left?”

“Not good.”

He nods solemnly.

I backtrack, telling him about Jax’s father and everything that happened between us afterward—including Jake’s findings in the workshop, and how it implicated Jax and Callyn, and then how it complicated the conversations between me and Grey. I tell him about the tourney and Nakiis and what little Sinna said about the woods. I tell him about Alek confronting me before Lia Mara’s court on the night that I left.

And finally, I tell him about the lateness of my departure, how I deviated from my journey to demand answers from Jax.

“And were you satisfied with his answers?” Rhen says.

We’ve wandered far from the bonfire by now. The night air is cool and quiet, heavy with darkness, only punctuated by the occasional sound of the guards’ boots when we find gravel.

“Yes,” I say. “But maybe it’s naïve to trust him.”

“He could have killed you while you slept and no one would’ve been the wiser. Not for weeks. I didn’t expect you to return so quickly.”

I wince. “I know.”

“You misunderstand. My point is that your instincts seem sound.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“We can only play the cards that fate deals.”

“Well, I keep playing them badly.” I pause. “I don’t know if Alek is plotting against Grey—or if he’s innocent and he truly does think magic is a risk to Syhl Shallow. I don’t know if I inadvertently led Nakiis to the Crystal Palace—and then put Princess Sinna in danger.” My breath catches, and I fight to steady it. “I don’t know if it’s my fault that she went … that she went missing, which then caused the queen to lose—”

Rhen catches my arm. “No. Do not do that.”

His grip is tight, his voice sharp. A command. It’s steadying. Stabilizing.

I swallow past a knot in my throat. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He lets go and keeps walking. “There’s little use dwelling in self-doubt. Grey used to tell me that all the time.”

I think of the moment when the king’s breath hitched when he told me about their loss, and I wonder if he still believes that.

“I’ll talk to Alek,” Rhen says. “Perhaps I can get someone from Syhl Shallow to play cards instead of dice.”

I snort. “You think he’s going to admit to treason?”

“No, but I can convincingly share a distaste for magic and see what he says.”

“I look forward to hearing how that goes.”

Rhen laughs, but not like anything is funny. “Ah, Tycho.” He claps me on the shoulder. “I expect you to join us.”

The following day is warm, the sky overcast. Rain drizzled from the sky all morning, but I ignored it in favor of walking the tracks between the tournament fields, watching competitors practice their skills. Many are amateurs, hoping to get lucky, entering for the right to say they were here. But there are a few clear outliers, men and women with obvious talent and focus. Some competitors from Syhl Shallow have made the journey, and I greet them in Syssalah, remarking on their weapons, wishing them luck, because I know they’ve breeched a narrow chasm of discomfort in competing here.

I wander because I want time to pass slowly, but fate insists on shoving shadows along the ground at a rapid clip. Before I’m ready, it’s well past midday, and I am due to meet with Rhen and Alek.

The library at Ironrose is vastly different from the one in the Crystal Palace. The windows here are narrow, the space lit by numerous lanterns and one large chandelier that hangs over the center of the space. Books are everywhere, shelves reaching for the ceiling.

Alek reaches the library entrance at the same time I do. He’s dressed in finery, his clothes made from expensive cloth and lined in black leather, revealing only a few details in green. The colors make it very clear where his loyalties lie.

I didn’t give my clothing much thought, so I’m a bit more casual in breeches and boots and a belted jerkin. Though I learned my lesson yesterday, and I’m fully armed.

So is he.

For a solid minute, I think about drawing blades. We could settle … whatever this is right here. He’s been eager for it for years, and I wouldn’t mind a rematch after what happened in Jax’s forge.

But Alek keeps his hands away from his weapons and gives me a clear up-and-down. “Tycho,” he says. “You couldn’t be troubled to dress appropriately to meet with the brother to the king?”

“I don’t usually dress up for a game of cards.”

“Ah.” He tsks. “Your poor upbringing revealing itself again.”

“Go to hell, Alek.”

He smiles. Rhen appears. We move to a table near the windows.

I try to keep a scowl off my face while they exchange bluntly barbed pleasantries. They may love the verbal parry, but I hate it. I don’t want to be here, and I’m sure it’s obvious. My attention drifts, and my gaze falls on the window, watching clouds roll through the sky.

Despite all my guilt and uncertainty, I can’t stop myself from thinking of Jax. Will he use the silver to hire a carriage? Will he come here?

I’m sure you’d cross my mind at least once.

It’s been a lot more than once.

Alek cuffs me lightly on the arm. “You should pay attention to the rules of the game.”

I glare at him darkly. “You should take your cards and shove them—”

“Be civil,” Rhen says equably as he begins to deal.

I have no idea what we’re playing. I should have paid attention. But I gather up my cards and glare at Alek across the table. “Forgive me, my lord,” I say, without a lick of contrition.

“Forgiven,” he says grandly, as if he’s the benevolent sort, and I’m the intolerant one.

I turn my glare on my cards. There are six in my hand. Rhen lays out three on the table before us, the setup for Mules and Mares, a common betting game in Emberfall, so at least I’m familiar. Soldiers and guards just call it Mule. It’s uncomplicated, but has a tendency to be a long game, with many chances for betting and deliberation per round, making it good for long nights and late watches.

They don’t play cards much in Syhl Shallow, so I wonder if Alek has ever played at all. It’s an interesting game choice, but I look at my cards. I have two threes—the mules—but I find no queens—the mares—in my hand or on the board, so I toss a copper down to bet.

Alek’s eyes flick between his hand and the cards on the table. I can see him trying to recount the rules, the elements of strategy, but he’s surely too arrogant to ask for clarification. After a moment, Alek tosses his own coin onto the table, and the round proceeds. Rhen deals more cards, adding to the initial three on the table. We bet again. No one speaks.

After what he said yesterday, I expected Rhen to launch an interrogation. It’s what Grey would have done. It’s what I want to do. But Rhen is even tempered and cordial, to such an extent that I begin to wonder if he’s on my side, or if he’s handed Alek another opportunity to dig at me.

For the final round, a queen turns up on the board. I have two threes in my hand, but Rhen declines to bet, leaving it to me and Alek. I bet, and he calls, so we have to show our cards.

He also has two threes, along with a queen of his own. I say nothing, just frown and shove my coins his way, acknowledging the win.

“I like this game,” he says, and there’s a taunting note in his voice.

I inhale to fire back, but Rhen says, “I do too. Your dice games are quick, but there’s so little time for thought and reflection.” He shuffles the cards and deals another round.

We play in silence again, round after round after round, until servants bring a pot of tea and a carafe of wine, along with small platters of biscuits, sliced cheese, honey, and spiced nuts. The room has grown warm as the sun changed angles, and Rhen’s jacket now hangs over the back of his chair. My own sleeves are pushed back. Only Alek is still as buttoned up as he was when we entered this room. We’ve all gathered a small pile of coppers and silver.

The game and the quiet have given me time to think, and most of my indignant fury has bled away, leaving me with nothing but questions. After a while, I can no longer take Rhen’s silence.

I look at Alek. “You followed me when I left the Crystal City.”

“I did.” He doesn’t look away from his cards, and after a moment of deliberation, he puts a copper on the table.

“It’s the only way you could have gotten here as quickly,” I say.

“I didn’t deny it.”

Rhen says nothing. He tosses a coin on the table and deals more cards.

I don’t even look at them. “Why?”

“Because the day I hired that greedy blacksmith, he demanded twice as much silver as was offered. Again and again. And then I found him whispering with the King’s Courier, after I and others had paid for his confidence.” His gaze flicks up from his cards. “You remember, I’m sure. You set me on fire, then went crying back to the king about my transgressions.”

“That’s not what happened.”

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s your bet.”

I make an aggravated sound, then glance at my cards. I have three queens in my hand, and there’s a three on the board already. I toss a silver onto the table.

In that short span of time, his words rattle around in my thoughts. You set me on fire, then went crying back to the king.

For the first time, I wonder if that’s what he believes. That I attacked him, when he was the one pinning me to a work table.

It makes me think of Callyn flinching away from me after she learned I had magic.

For one tiny fraction of a second, it rattles my foundation. But I know what he did. I remember how he acted.

“Why do you need to pay for his confidence if you’re not doing anything wrong?” I demand. “There are courier channels all over both countries.”

He surveys his cards, then lazily tosses his own silver onto the table. “If they’re so secure, why do you have a job at all?”

I inhale sharply, but Rhen says, “I believe we can all agree that there are some messages that should not be delivered with the same degree of urgency and surety as a plowman reporting how much he needs a second set of oxen.”

I clamp my mouth shut.

“So you believe Tycho may not be trustworthy?” Rhen says.

“I think it is a telling measure of judgment and character that a high-ranking nobleman would be dallying with a poor laborer who’s shown a willingness to …” His eyes flash with rancor. “Shall we say … to do just about anything for a few extra pieces of silver?”

I nearly come out of my chair.

“Tycho,” says Rhen, and his voice is quiet. Not a rebuke or an order.

I stay in my seat, but I’m gripping my cards so hard that they’re beginning to fold.

Alek hasn’t moved. Rhen hasn’t moved. I feel hot and cold all over, like I can’t say or do the right thing. My cheeks are surely burning.

I hate this. I hate him.

“I’m not the only one dallying with a laborer,” I snap.

“You’re the only one casting a shadow on the integrity of the entire royal family.”

“Only because of your lies.”

“When have I lied?” he says. “You bring the king’s doubt upon yourself.”

“Who are you working with, Alek?” My breathing feels tight and shallow. He’s too clever. I know Rhen brought him here in hopes of uncovering something, but Alek always knows how to twist things so the outcome is exactly what he expects.

His expression doesn’t flicker. “I have customers and vendors all over Syhl Shallow. You know this.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Who’s Lady Karyl?”

He looks up. “I have no idea. Is that someone of importance?”

I want to punch him. “That’s who left you a message with Jax!”

He sighs as if bored of my interrogation. “I cannot keep track of the name of every servant sent to leave me a message, Tycho. At this point, I wouldn’t even know which message this might apply to.”

“So if it is not a matter of trust,” says Rhen, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand, “do you question Tycho’s loyalty?”

Alek slides his cards together, then surveys the board. He must be satisfied by what he finds there, because he lays a coin down, then looks at me. “In fact, no. I don’t question your loyalty at all.”

That shocks me still.

“If anything, Tycho’s loyalty is rather … impressive,” Alek continues, and his voice is just as even as Rhen’s. “I personally would find it rather challenging to devote myself to a king who once fled his duty, hid his identity, lied about his abilities, and then allowed me to be chained to a wall and flogged.”

There’s blood on my tongue. I’ve bitten the inside of my cheek. I don’t think I’m breathing.

Alek glances at Rhen. “To say nothing of carrying that devotion so far as to sit here politely playing cards with the man responsible.”

I expect that to make Rhen flinch, because I feel the impact of those words like a sledgehammer. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t look away from Alek. “A man in power has to think about more than just the life of one person—or two, as it was. I had a country to protect. A choice to make. So I made it.”

“I don’t fault you for it,” says Alek.

“I honestly don’t care if you do or not.” Rhen sets down a coin. “Tycho, the bet is yours.”

I have no idea how they’re continuing to play cards right now. I don’t even look at the cards in play; I just add another coin to the pile. I feel like I’m simultaneously being strangled and set on fire.

Alek does this every single time. It’s diabolical. Masterful, the way he makes me reconsider every decision I’ve ever made.

But then I realize what Rhen just said.

I honestly don’t care if you do or not.

It wraps up with the words he said to me last night.

There’s little use dwelling in self-doubt.

I look at Rhen. My chest feels hollow, but my voice is steady when I say, “You may not care for my opinion either, but I also don’t fault you for it.”

“On the contrary,” he says. “Your opinion means quite a bit. Alek, where do your loyalties lie?”

“With Syhl Shallow,” Alek says. There’s no tension in his voice, but I can see that his eyes are no longer studying the cards, and are instead studying Rhen. “As I hope you would expect.”

“Of course.” Rhen pauses. “So I would assume you are loyal to your queen?”

“As you are loyal to your king, Your Highness.” Alek shrugs. “The problem arises when one’s subjects begin to question the king and queen’s loyalty to each other.”

“Is it a matter of questioning their loyalty,” says Rhen, “or judging it?”

Alek says nothing. He senses a trap.

“Your queen has chosen to marry the king of Emberfall,” Rhen continues. He looks at his cards, surveys the arrangement on the table, and lays down a coin. “So you can see where her loyalty lies. And surely you would have no question about mine.”

“You’re loyal to Emberfall.”

“Yes. And to Grey. And to those who are loyal to him.” He pauses. “I understand my brother made a choice when you and Tycho had this …” He glances at me. “Altercation in Briarlock.”

“Are you questioning his choice?” says Alek.

Rhen smiles dangerously. “Never.” He pauses. “I can say without hesitation that I would have made a different one.” He shuffles. Deals. Shrugs. “I would have questioned you both and acted accordingly.” When he looks at Alek, his gaze is piercing. “Had you failed to appear, I would have considered that an admission of guilt.”

“How lucky I am that you were not making the decision, then.”

“Indeed you are. The bet is to you, Tycho.”

I toss a coin on the table without any care for the cards in my hand. I’ve watched a thousand sword fights, but none have come close to the level of tension in this room.

There’s something fascinating about that. I’ve spent years with Grey on the training fields, but this is a different skill altogether. I was ready to draw a weapon a moment ago. But with Alek, I need to be smarter. To figure out a way to rely on more than just my talents with a blade.

“You bear a distrust for magic,” Rhen is saying to Alek.

“You do too, I’m told.” He glances at Rhen’s hands. “You do not wear the rings your brother has shared with an honored few.”

“I have no need for magic,” Rhen says. “But I do not begrudge my brother his talents.”

“I do,” Alek says. “I’ve seen the damage magic has caused to the people of Syhl Shallow. You’ve seen the damage magic has caused to Emberfall. Grey has been king for four years, but where is magic’s benefit to either country? Our former queen was formidable. No one would dare attack her court. And now we have a queen who’s been attacked more than once. She refuses to allow her guards and soldiers to act, under the guise of wanting peace. Instead of peace, we had protestors slaughtered in the castle hallways.”

Alek leans in against the table. “And now, his magic seems to be putting our queen at risk. Her lingering illness is no secret to those at court. The princess’s disappearance has not been explained. If the king cannot be trusted to use his magic to protect the royal family, why should anyone else trust him?”

Rhen’s eyes flick to me, but I say nothing. The king and queen were planning to make an announcement, but I don’t know if they actually did. I may have lost my position at court, but I still know how to keep secrets.

I glare at Alek. “You keep implying everyone else is unworthy of trust, but it’s you. You’re the liar. You’re the one sowing discord.”

“Again,” he says. “When have I lied?”

“Tycho is suspicious of your motives,” Rhen says. “That makes me suspicious of your motives. What are you really doing in Briarlock?”

Alek shrugs lazily. “Nothing.”

I grit my teeth. “If your intention is to harm the king—”

His eyes flash to mine. “How could anyone harm the king,” he says, his tone low and mocking, “if he has such powerful magic?”

Something about those words lodges in my thoughts. I’m not sure what, and I turn them around in my head.

“If you are found to be plotting against the king,” says Rhen, his voice just as low, “it will not go well for you.”

Alek bets. “Are you attempting to threaten me?”

“Threaten you!” Rhen laughs. “No. I am attempting to warn you.”

I’m frozen in place, but I’m hardly listening now.

How could anyone harm the king?

I know how. I flex my fingers. Just like my rings gave me magic, Iishellasan steel can be charged to repel magic. I’ve seen a dagger that could cause injuries Grey was unable to heal.

I remember a line from one of the first letters we found.

Gather your best silver.

We thought they were gathering funds. Planning another large attack on the palace.

But everything else was in code. Mama fed the goats, … Papa … Why not silver, too?

My heart is pounding again. Have they been gathering Iishellasan steel? Has Alek found weapons that would block Grey from using his magic? The thought is chilling.

Alek lays down his cards. One mare and three mules. “With all due respect, Your Highness,” he says, his voice even, “I don’t need your warnings.” He reaches to gather the coins on the table.

“My win,” I say, and he looks up in surprise.

I lay down three queens, which beats his hand.

He scowls and shoves the coins in my direction.

I stack the silver slowly, tallying my win. “With all due respect,” I say, mocking his arrogant tone, “I’m beginning to think you should take all the warnings you get.”