Simon handed Trina his knife, then left without looking back, something I understood perfectly. If he could avoid thinking of me as a real person, then I was only a tool for the rebellion, little different from any other weapon. I'd be used for as long as I could help their cause, then tossed aside.
When I'd protested to Tenger that I would be killed if caught stealing the Olden Blade, Tenger had seemed both unsurprised and unimpressed. The reason, of course, was perfectly clear. After I led him to the dagger, Tenger had no intention of letting me walk away from the Coracks. He'd lied about that. Even if I was allowed to leave, after such a betrayal of my family, where could I possibly go?
With Simon up in the driver's box, my carriage started back on the road again, and Trina breathed easier once it did. She kept one hand firmly wrapped around her knife, and smoothed over the folds of her skirt with her other hand. My skirt, that is.
Personally, I preferred trousers, but they were frowned upon for women in general society and my father would consider them intolerable. So if I had to wear skirts, then they had better be beautiful enough to compensate for the inconvenience of wearing them. Trina had chosen one of my favorite gowns. I'd have to burn it now. Whether she was still using it or not.
"What kind of fabric is this?" she asked. "I'll bet it's expensive."
"You think wearing the gown of a lady makes you one?"
Trina leaned forward. "It's worked for you. Your hair is perfumed and styled, you casually wear jewels that would feed my people for a month, and you have servants to wait on you at all times. But your heart is as black as Lord Endrick's. When the Coracks heard you were returning to Highwyn, my vote was simply to kill you on this road. Antora would be better off with one less Dallisor."
"I've done nothing to you," I whispered, struck by the potency of her hatred, and its focus on me.
She snorted and turned sideways to prop her feet on the cushioned bench of the carriage, clearly communicating her disrespect, her lack of honor.
A thousand years ago, the first recorded Dallisor, Gridwyn Dallisor, took control of Antora from its founder, a Halderian king. Gridwyn built the Scarlet Throne and made his children vow that a Dallisor would always occupy the throne, or make war until they did. If Lord Endrick had not claimed rule over the land, then my father would sit upon the throne now. He wasn't the original heir, but the War of De
vastation had severely diminished our numbers. Five pure-blooded Dallisor families remained. Among them, an aunt who governed the Watchman Mountains region, my father's cousin who was an emissary to Tarbush, and three other cousins who dwelt in Highwyn. Every grandfather in our history had served as a military commander. If I had been a son rather than a daughter, that would have been my fate too. As much as I would have loathed standing at the head of an Ironheart garrison, at least it might have earned my father's attention.
For most of my life, I'd longed for a relationship with my father. I didn't need his warmth or approval or even his love. But it would've been nice to see him look at me just once without that hollow regret in his eyes. If he found out what I'd just agreed to do ... when he found out, I could well imagine his expression then.
Trina wouldn't understand that. If anything, knowing she came between me and my father would only bring her a twisted sort of joy.
So I wouldn't think of my father now, wouldn't think of anything but the job that had to be done. If I was careful, and smart, and held my ragged emotions together, there was a chance to defeat them, save Darrow and Celia, and redeem myself in my father's eyes.
It would begin by putting Trina in her place. I nodded at her boots. "Those are impossibly ugly." They were dusty and scuffed, and seemed more appropriate for a man. "No one who sees them will believe you're my lady-in-waiting."
She looked down as if she'd never seen them before. "I'll keep them covered with the skirts."
"Brilliant plan. Really, I'm already impressed by your attention to detail. But when your identity is discovered a whole three minutes after we enter Woodcourt, remember that it wasn't my fault. I warned you about the boots."
She lowered her feet to the floor and smoothed out her skirts again. Because that would help.
"You're expected to stay at the inn near Grimlowe tonight, yes?"
I frowned at Trina's question. "How do you know that? How did you know I'd be on this road tonight?"
"We know more than you think."
"The rebels might. I doubt you know much at all."
"Tell me what I'll be expected to do when we reach the inn."
Drown yourself. There was a pond near the inn and I'd gladly show her the way if she was interested. But Celia was too much on my mind. Remembering the terror of her screams sent a cold shudder through me. I couldn't imagine what she was going through now, or how they were treating her. What of Darrow? Was he still alive? Would they care for him and try to heal his wound, or would he be left to his own fate?
Four days. I just needed them to survive that long. More importantly, I needed a plan to get them back.
But in answer to her question, I only said, "The innkeeper was warned that we'd arrive late. We'll rest there for a few hours and be on the road again before everyone is awake."
She gave a wide yawn. "When do I get to sleep?"
"You don't. Nor will Simon." She did a double take at that, which gave me a little pleasure. "He'll greet the innkeeper and pay him for the night. I hope he's prepared for that, because Darrow carried my money." This wasn't true at all. I had plenty of money in a satchel inside my trunk, but if they were going to kidnap me, then they could do it with their own coins. "Simon will carry in the trunk and secure my room while you prepare a bath for me and serve me a meal."
"When do we eat?" She was all but drooling with hunger.
I hardly cared about that. "You eat when you can pay for it. But if you don't arrange for my meals first, it will arouse the innkeeper's suspicions. After my bath, you'll dress me for bed, and if you were a normal servant, you'd sleep on the floor beside me, like any good dog. However, I assume you and Simon will want to stay awake to guard me and be sure I don't run."