A Court This Cruel and Lovely (Kingdom of Lies Book 1), page 28
Why had she been following us?
After a few moments, we crept out of the alley.
“We have to move quickly in case she circles back around,” Tibris said, his expression hard. We trotted down the street and took the next left. Ahead of us, Madinia continued to walk, clearly scanning the street for us. Was she just curious? Did she want to find something to pass on to the queen? Or had I said something to make her suspicious?
Tibris knocked, and Vicer immediately opened the door, obviously expecting us. He waved us inside, and we followed him into the kitchen. Unfortunately, Margie was nowhere to be seen. Vicer leaned against the wall, hands on his hips.
His expression was serious, his eyes solemn. So different from the village boy I’d once known.
“How’s Asinia?”
I smiled. “She’s doing better.”
Tibris’s mouth twisted. “With a little help from Prisca’s mercenary friend. But she's still not healthy enough to travel.”
Vicer crossed his arms at the mercenary friend part. “Explain.”
I chafed at the order. Telling Vicer everything I knew about Lorian would only make him more curious. And if Lorian found out, there was no way he would help me.
“I traveled with him. He needed my powers at the city gates, so he kept me alive and then we went our separate ways. I don’t know why he’s at the castle.”
Vicer opened his mouth, but I’d already moved on.
“The man responsible for the carriages,” I said. “Rothnic Boria. Is there any chance he could be bribed?”
Vicer shook his head. “He is one of the king’s most ardent supporters. His magic has made him one of the richest men in the kingdom. He could live anywhere, and yet he stays at court.”
“How do the carriages work?”
“All of the horseless carriages are on loan from the king. While noble families are given permission to borrow them, each month they must be returned to the king and the magic renewed. It’s seen as a status symbol to be allowed to borrow them. A sign of the king’s favor. According to our spies, the royal carriages are all spelled from a single map in the carriage-maker’s study. Another way for the king to keep track of who the courtiers are visiting.”
The carriages wouldn’t work. But I’d figure out another way. I had to. A feral kind of determination settled in my chest.
Vicer was studying my face. “What is it, Pris?”
“It’s not enough to get Asinia and Demos out. I’m going to free them all.”
Vicer gaped at me. Tibris just clenched his teeth. He’d known this was coming. Our discussion about it had been in low, hissed voices, both of us brimming with frustration.
“You can’t,” Vicer said. For the first time, he seemed vaguely shocked.
But something in me had awakened now. Something that needed to see all those prisoners free. Something that screamed for retribution. “Think about it. If I’m getting two people out, we can expand the plan and get them all out.”
“You say it like it’s easy. Like we haven’t been trying for years.”
“Two weeks before Gods Day, the king is holding another ball. According to the queen, some of the village representatives will be staying until Gods Day. Think of the blow it would be for them to witness his entire dungeon escaping. Think of the representatives who would carry that news back to their villages. And think of the people just like us who would have hope for the first time.”
Vicer’s mouth twisted. “You make it sound so simple. What are those people supposed to do when we get them out? Where are they going to go?”
I lifted my chin. “I’ve been watching the prisoners. Talking to some of them. The younger children…they mostly don’t survive the dungeon. Most of those who are still alive can pass for twenty-five winters. They get a blue mark, and they’re free.”
Vicer burst out laughing, holding up his hands. “Well then, in that case, it should all be fine.” The laughter faded from his voice. “Did you miss the part where Tibris told you he was saving for years just to get a blue mark for you?”
I glanced at Tibris. He winced.
“You said there are other options. Now’s the time to start asking around. I know it’s dangerous. Tibris and I will do anything we can. But there has to be someone who can help.”
Vicer’s expression was stony. “If I could achieve such a miracle, that person wouldn’t be able to handle three hundred prisoners in one night.”
He wasn’t saying it couldn’t be done. A tiny flame of hope lit inside me, glowing like one of those blue-green stones in the hybrid market. “We get them out of the city. The prisoners will separate, travel in groups. They’ll know where to go and when, so your contact can get through them all.”
Tibris’s voice was quiet. “And the ones who are too young to pass as twenty-five winters?”
“They get the mark anyway. And they get some kind of charm to make it invisible.” I threw up my hands. “They grow their hair long. They hide for a few years until they could pass. But once they can pass, they’re free. They can settle somewhere and start a new life.”
Vicer closed his eyes. He wanted it. I knew he did. And yet, Vicer lived here. He knew what could be done. And what couldn’t.
But maybe…maybe we all needed to be pushed. Just once. Maybe saving these people was worth everything. I could justify it with the embarrassment it would cause the king, the hope it would give other hybrids…but three hundred lives was enough. That was all the justification I needed.
“I can’t leave those people there to die, Vicer. I don’t have it in me.”
Not Lina, with her solemn eyes. Not Dashiel, who deserved his vengeance. Not Demos, Asinia, or any other prisoner would be left behind. Not while I still drew breath.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The moment I saw you again, I knew you were going to complicate everything.” Finally, he heaved a sigh. “I’m not agreeing to anything except helping you set it up. If I think it’s too dangerous, I have the right to say no. At any time.”
Victory flashed through me, and I fought to keep my expression blank. “Fine.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders, and he leaned against the wall. “If we could do this…”
I grinned. “Who is in charge of the guards on the city walls?”
“The king.”
Tibris nodded, picking up my thought. “Surely there’s someone beneath him who oversees the guards.”
“Patriarch Farrow.”
One of the men most loyal to the king. I sighed. “Who works beneath him?”
Vicer shrugged. “I’ll look into it. But you’re right. If we’re going to get our people out, we need to get them as far from the city as possible and have anyone who agrees to help with the marks meet them elsewhere. I’ll find out who oversees the guards at the city walls.”
I nodded. “One more thing. I need another charm for my eyes. They’re lightening more each day.”
Vicer winced. “The woman we usually buy the charms from had to flee the city. Another was just killed.”
My chest tightened until it was difficult to take a full breath. Without a charm, my eyes were noticeable. It was a risk we couldn’t afford to take.
Tibris went still. “So, we’ll find someone else.”
“The charms are becoming difficult to find. Changing your eye color is the latest trend. Charms are being fixed on to bracelets, rings, earrings…”
“I’m trusting you with my sister,” Tibris hissed. I reached out and squeezed his arm, unused to such a tone from him.
Vicer held up a hand. “I know. Just keep your head down, Pris, and I’ll have a new necklace for you in a few days.”
Not for the first time, I hated the strange color of my eyes.
“We need to go. One of the queen’s other ladies followed us here,” I said. Who knew if she was wandering around, hoping to glimpse us again?
The walk back to the castle was long, but it gave me time to think.
“I know you want to get them out, Pris,” Tibris said when the castle came into view. “But…just think before you do anything that could get you arrested. I…I can’t lose you too.”
Something in my chest wrenched. “I know. I will. We’ll figure it out. Together.”
He nodded, and I headed to my room, my mind replaying the curiosity in Vicer’s eyes when he learned about Lorian.
I couldn’t blame him. I was curious too.
I knew Lorian wasn’t the Gromalian Prince. He’d slept on the ground next to me. He’d stayed in the kinds of inns only villagers could afford. And he fought like someone who enjoyed it. Not just because he was trained.
And sometimes when he fought, he moved faster than the eye could see.
Maybe that was his power.
It would certainly explain a lot.
Lorian must look similar to the real Gromalian prince. But the moment the Gromalian royals learned what was happening, the ruse was up. Lorian and the others were dead. My body turned cold at the thought.
Unless the Gromalian prince was incapacitated. I’d traveled with the mercenaries to the Gromalian border. The fae handed Lorian a vial. It was possible the fae either kidnapped or killed the real prince and Lorian took his place.
In that case, the Gromalians wouldn’t even know their prince was gone, unless someone who knew the prince interacted with Lorian.
I swallowed at the thought of that much brutality. But the fact remained that without Lorian’s help, Asinia could be dead now. I owed him.
And still, I needed to be careful. I didn’t know what his power was…or much of anything about him.
But I knew when he touched me, as he did last night, I felt like I was flying. Guilt coiled in my stomach, and I pushed open the door to my chambers.
Daselis was waiting. “The seamstress will be here soon.”
Hello to you too. “The seamstress?”
“The queen said you need a few new dresses. Something fashionable for the balls. You may as well undress now.”
A few minutes later, I was wrapped in a bath sheet, the seamstress casting a critical eye over me. She was an older woman with a slightly hunched back and deep frown lines.
“Drop the sheet.”
Thankfully, Daselis and Erea had made themselves scarce. The seamstress began her measurements. And I turned my attention on the mirror in front of me.
My heart pounded as I met my own eyes. The charm on my necklace was no longer working at all.
“One of the queen’s other ladies had to leave town suddenly before picking up her dresses. I can tailor them for you. I’ll work on hers in the coming weeks.”
I barely hid a wince. Guilt stabbed into me at the thought of the woman who’d rushed back to her village.
“Thank you. What’s your name?”
The seamstress angled her head from where she was measuring my waist. “Telean.”
“I’m Setella.”
She just nodded. When she stepped back, our eyes met.
And the blood slowly drained from her face. “Your eyes are beautiful.”
I cleared my throat, glancing away. “Thank you.”
My heart skipped several beats and then began to race. Had she seen one of the pieces of parchment that were likely circulating with my face and description on them. I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.
Any minute now, she would run from the room and alert the guards.
I forced myself to meet her gaze. “Please,” I got out.
She just shook her head, leaning over and handing me the bath sheet.
“I’m finished.”
Her expression twisted in something that might’ve been grief, and then she was walking out the door.
I did nothing to stop her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I’d known Prisca was up to something. And yet when she knocked on my door, a part of me was convinced she was here to finish what she’d started yesterday.
One look at her, and it was evident that was not going to happen. Her face was bone-white, and she seemed oddly fragile.
“I need to talk to you.”
I opened the door wider, and she walked in. It had been a terrible day, and I’d spent most of it at Sabium’s side. My head pounded with a rare headache. And yet, the moment the wildcat walked in, my cock hardened in anticipation.
I scowled, and Prisca raised one eyebrow. “What is your problem?”
Sometimes I longed to be able to talk to her about my life. “My problems are my own.”
Her expression turned cool. “Perhaps that needs to change.”
I waved my hand in the way I knew she loathed, gesturing for her to talk.
She glowered at me but took a deep breath. “You need something in this castle, and I could use some help. I think we should work together.”
“You want me to help get your friend out.”
She studied me as if wondering if I could be trusted. I ground my teeth. This woman.
But you can’t be trusted.
I pushed that thought away and focused on Prisca as she began to pace. She had dark circles beneath her eyes. I considered everything I knew about her, and my blood turned to ice.
“You’re planning to get them all out. Are you mad?”
She sighed. “I have a plan.”
I watched her, and she shrugged. “Fine. I have the beginnings of a plan.”
Of course. Prisca wouldn’t be content breaking one prisoner out of the king’s dungeon—a feat that had never been done before. No, she somehow imagined she could get them all out. And with that power of hers, she likely could. But there was no way she could transport them all out of the city.
And yet…
Even if she couldn’t get them out, the chaos that would ensue when the king learned his prisoners were missing? It would be the perfect distraction for my own plans. Perhaps fate would step in and both of us could get what we needed. Hope was almost a foreign sensation at this point in my life, but I felt the dull edge of it.
“How many prisoners are down there?”
“Three hundred and nine.”
I winced. Prisca stuck out her chin. Stubborn as a mule.
“Are you sure all of them are—”
“Hybrids? Yes. Thieves and murderers are taken to the city jail. I learned something else today too. Those oceartus stones? They’re here for a reason. The king doesn’t just burn the hybrids. He drains them first.”
It made sense.
She put her hands on her hips. “So, if you’re hoping to weaken the king…”
I smiled. “Is that what I’m doing?”
She looked down her pert little nose at me, and I couldn’t help but smile. Surprise flashed across her face, but she recovered quickly. “The king will be even more powerful after Gods Day. Something tells me you would prefer for that not to happen.”
It was a situation I’d known we would potentially have to deal with. A sudden influx of magic for a king who was already rivaling the fae for power. And I would, indeed, prefer that he didn’t receive that power.
Prisca gave me that knowing smile that made me want to strangle her. Or kiss her. Or both.
I lost myself in a fantasy of my hand circling her throat while I thrust inside her, making it clear that I was still in charge.
“Lorian?”
A blush tinged her cheekbones. She’d guessed where my mind had gone. This distraction had to stop.
“When I took my healer to your friend, we used a tunnel. It has existed for years, and thanks to the fae iron the guards shove down the prisoner’s throats, even if they could somehow get out of their cells and locate the hidden entrance, they’d be too weak to get all the way to the end of the tunnel.”
Surprise and victory gleamed in her eyes. “I know about the tunnel. I’ve been searching the dungeon for that entrance. Will you tell me where it is?”
“Yes.”
I could see her mind processing that information instantly as she readjusted whatever plans she’d been making. Fascinating creature.
“Where does the tunnel end?”
“The central market. Decades ago, the market didn’t exist. It was solely an execution square. The tunnel allowed the guards to take prisoners out directly to their death.” On Gods Day, the streets would run red with blood. Even someone like me—who cared little for the agony of others—could feel the waste of it.
Prisca shivered and turned to pace some more. Each time I watched her scheme, I grew more reluctantly intrigued despite myself. She’d always thought quickly—the fact that she had survived after we’d left her that day was proof of that.
My mind provided me with the memory of her lying next to Galon, her skin pale—so pale it had seemed as if she were already dead. The way she’d pleaded with me and then her eyes had burned, silently vowing vengeance.
That spark had almost been doused like one of Rythos’s fires. My hands fisted at the thought. For the first time, I felt something that might have been…regret.
She turned and peered up at me.
“Your eyes are reverting,” I said. It was dangerous to her. And yet, it was as if something inside me unlocked when I could see the gold flecks in her eyes.
“I know,” she sighed. “The charms are difficult to find right now.”
I was beginning to learn that I hated it, knowing she skulked around the castle using magic that, if I was honest, she should have had years to train with and not days. I loathed that she was often down in the dungeons, where all it would take was one wrong move, one moment of inattention, and she was dead.
The fact that she’d somehow made me care about her like this—to the extent that I was unfocused while on my own task… I glowered at her.
“You take too many risks.”
She gave me that wary look that told me she had something to tell me and I wasn’t going to like it.
“Out with it.”
She spoke casually, but it was easy to see the fear darting across her face. “The seamstress saw my eyes. She remarked on the color. Her face turned white, and she rushed out of the room.”
Then the seamstress was dead.
“You’ve got your murder face on,” she murmured. “I don’t want her to die, Lorian.”
