He was eating an apple, and its red skin shone bright against the drab stable yard. I had seen the treasured fruit arrive this morning with a Previzi caravan and watched Calantha throw him two of the sweet prizes. I hadn’t had any fruit since I left the vagabond camp. The closest thing to it here was the root vegetables—carrots and turnips—sometimes served with the Sanctum chickens or wild game. I knew an apple was another reserved luxury delivered to the Council quarters, and I wondered at Calantha’s generosity with Rafe.
He swayed easily in his saddle as he approached, biting off another chunk of apple, and our paths met in the middle of the yard. We exchanged a quick glance and dismounted, waiting for teams of horses that were being hitched to wagons to move out of the way. Even though we had an idle moment together and the guards surrounding us were loud with jesting, telling the Previzi drivers to hurry up about their work, there were still too many within earshot. I couldn’t take a chance trying to explain last night and how my refusing the Komizar might hasten Rafe’s death sentence. He was left to wonder what I was up to. He knew I despised the Komizar. He chewed his apple, his eyes inspecting my dress and the long trails of bones that rattled at my side. I could see every syllable in his eyes: She’s becoming more Vendan every day.
“If my friend Jeb were here,” he said, “he’d commend your accessories, Princess. His tastes run on the savage side.”
“As do the Komizar’s,” a guard interjected, a reminder that they were always listening.
I studied Rafe. I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult. His tone was odd, but then something else caught his attention.
I followed his gaze. A confluence of destinies.
Not now. Not here. I knew it couldn’t go well.
It was Kaden. He was riding toward us with the governor he had sought at his side and what looked like a disheveled squad of men with him.
Rafe began choking, apple flying from his mouth. His eyes watered.
“Chew, Emissary,” I said, “before swallowing.”
He coughed a few more times, but his eyes remained fixed on the approaching squad.
I saw the visible relief on Kaden’s face when he spotted me. He swung down from his horse, and the men with him did the same. Kaden ignored Rafe as if he weren’t there, in fact as if no one were there. “You’re well?” he asked, not noticing the sudden hush of the soldiers around us. The Assassin was back—the Assassin who had not yet heard the news. The governor stepped up, clearing his throat.
Kaden grudgingly nodded toward him. “This is the new governor of Arleston and his”—he paused, as if searching for the right word—“soldiers.”
I understood why it gave him pause. “Soldiers” was a generous term. They were not an impressive lot. No uniforms, their clothes ragged, the poorest of the poor. But the governor was a frightening brute of a man, tall and lean with a broad chest and a vicious scar that striped his face from cheekbone to chin. He had a scowling line between his brows to match.
“And you are?” he said. The sudden forced smile twisting his lips was more wretched than his scowl.
“It’s not important,” Kaden said. “Let’s go—”
“Princess Arabella,” I answered. “First Daughter of Morrighan, and this is Rafe, the emissary of Prince Jaxon of Dalbreck.”
The governor’s smile disappeared. “Enemy swine in the Sanctum?” he said in disbelief.
He glared at Rafe and spit, hitting Rafe’s boots. Rafe started forward, but I stepped between them.
“For someone so new to this position, you have an exceptionally reckless tongue, Governor,” I said. “Be careful, or you may lose it.”
He sputtered with astonishment and looked at Kaden. “You allow your prisoners to speak to you this way?”
“She’s not a prisoner anymore,” one of the nearby soldiers chided.
And that’s when Rafe told Kaden about my new role at the Sanctum.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
KADEN
r /> I threw open the door to the Komizar’s meeting chamber, sending it crashing against the wall. Three brethren standing near him drew their weapons. The Komizar remained seated behind a table piled with maps and charts, and our gazes locked. My chest heaved from my flight through the stable yard and the Sanctum.
My Rahtan brethren kept their daggers gripped in their fists.
“Leave,” the Komizar ordered. They rightfully hesitated. “Leave!” he yelled again.
They reluctantly sheathed their knives. When they closed the door behind them, he stood and walked around to the side of the table and faced me. “So you’ve heard the news? I’ll assume you’re here to offer your congratulations.”
I lunged. I knocked him to the floor, and furniture toppled around us. He pulled my knife from its sheath, but I slammed his hand against the floor, and the knife flew across the room. His other fist caught my jaw, and I fell back, but my knee met his ribs when he came at me again. Glass shattered, papers and maps rained down around us, but my rage finally prevailed, and I pinned him down, holding a shard of his broken lantern to his neck. Blood seeped from my hand as the sharp edge cut into my own flesh.