Kaden glared, his attention turned back to me again. The worm dug deeper. “Do you always take such an intimate interest in your prince’s affairs?”

“Only when it suits me. Do you always dance with the girl you plan to murder?”

His jaw clenched. “I never liked you.”

“I’m wounded.”

A governor stumbled into the table, then righted himself. He realized it was Kaden he had bumped into and laughed. “The Komizar still holed up with that royal visitor? A blue blood has to be a first even for him.” He winked and staggered away.

I leaned forward. “You left her alone with him?”

“Shut up, Emissary. You don’t know anything.”

I sat back. Strained against the shackles cutting into my wrists. Felt the burn at my temple. Wondered about all those weeks on the Cam Lanteux and everything Lia had had to endure.

“I know enough,” I said.

I know when I get these chains off, I’m going to kill you.

CHAPTER NINE

Calantha escorted me back into Sanctum Hall. There were pockets of laughter when I tripped on my sack dress. The Komizar took the rope belt away, saying it was a luxury I would have to earn. Yes, there was always more to take, and I had no doubt he would find things I didn’t even know I valued and take them away piece by piece. I’d have to play the role he was painting for me for now, the pathetic royal getting her comeuppance.

I saw the Komizar’s goal achieved, mirrored in the gawking faces that closed in around me. He had made me utterly ordinary in their eyes. Kaden pushed through a circle of governors who crowded around. Our eyes met, and something wrenched tight in my chest. How could he do this? Had he known I’d be paraded as an object of scorn—and still he brought me here? Was loyalty to any kingdom worth debasing someone you professed to love? I tugged on the sackcloth dress, trying to cover my shoulders. He pulled me from Calantha’s clutch and away from the ogling eyes of the governors into the shadows behind a pillar. I pressed against it, grateful for something solid to lean on. He looked into my eyes, his lips half parted as if searching for something to say. Worry etched his face. I saw that he had wanted anything but this, and yet here we were—because of him. I couldn’t make it easy for him. I wouldn’t.

“So this was the life you promised for me? How wonderfully charming, Kaden.”

Lines deepened around his eyes, his ever-present restraint tested. “Tomorrow will be better,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Servants hurried past us carrying platters piled with dark warm meats. I heard the brethren and governors muttering their hunger, and the low growl of heavy chairs being dragged across stone as they swarmed toward the table in the center of the room. Kaden and I remained planted behind the pillar. I saw one kind of sorrow in his eyes and felt another kind in my heart. He would pay for this like everyone else—he just didn’t know it yet.

“The food is here,” he finally murmured.

“Give me a moment, Kaden. Alone. I just need—”

He shook his head. “No, Lia, I can’t.”

“Please.” My voice cracked. I bit my lower lip, trying to muster some scrap of calm. “Just so I can adjust the dress. Spare me some dignity.” I tugged the fabric back over my shoulder.

He cast an awkward glance at my hand clutching a fistful of fabric at my chest. “Don’t do anything foolish, Lia,” he said. “Come to the table when you’re finished.”

I nodded and he reluctantly left.

I bent down and ripped at the hemline, making a tear up to my knees, then tied the excess fabric up into a knot. I did the same at my neck, tying a smaller knot at my chest so my shoulders would remain covered. Hopefully the Komizar wouldn’t consider knots a luxury too.

Dignity. My skin chafed under the coarse fabric. My toes ached with chill. I was dizzy with hunger. I didn’t care a whit about dignity. That had been taken from me long ago. But I did need a clear, unfettered moment. That much wasn’t a lie. Was such a thing possible here?

The gift is a delicate way of knowing. It’s how the few remaining Ancients survived. Learn to be still and know.

Dihara’s words swept through me. I had to find that place of stillness somehow. I leaned back against the pillar, hunting for the quiet I had found in the meadow. I closed my eyes. But peace was impossible to come by. What good was a gift if you couldn’t summon it at will? I didn’t need a quiet knowing. I needed something sharp and lethal.

My thoughts tumbled, angry and bitter, an avalanche of memory past and present, trying to find blame, to spread it around to every guilty party. I conjured a sip of poison for each one who had pushed me here, the Chancellor, the Scholar—even my own mother, who had knowingly suppressed my gift. Because of them I had suffered years of guilt for never being enough.

I opened my eyes, shivering, staring at the stained stone wall in front of me, unable to move. I was thousands of miles from who I was and who I wanted to be. My back pressed closer to the pillar, and I thought that maybe it was all that held me up—and then I felt something. A thrum. A pulse. Something running through the stone, delicate and distant. It reached into my spine, warming it, strumming, repetitive. Like a song. I pressed my hands flat against the stone, trying to absorb the faint beat, and heat spread to my chest, down to my arms, my feet. The song slowly faded, but the warmth stayed.

I stepped out from behind the pillar, vaguely aware of heads turning, whispers, someone shouting, but I was hypnotized by a thin, hazy figure on the far side of the hall, hidden in the shadows, waiting. Waiting for me. I squinted, trying to see the face, but none materialized.