"My ... lady is inside this carriage." I nearly choked on having to refer to Kestra so politely.
"Wasn't a garrison assigned to accompany her home?"
"Those plans changed." The simplest lies were usually the most believable. Then I added, "The lady is tired and hopes her room is ready."
"It is, of course." The innkeeper coughed and held out his hand. He expected payment.
I had a few silver coins in my satchel, but not enough for a room, and I wouldn't empty my pockets anyway to provide a Dallisor with a soft pillow for the night. How had she planned to pay? Did she have the money, or did Darrow carry it? With the innkeeper directly in front of me, I couldn't just open the door and ask her.
But the carriage door did open. Trina leaned out with a necklace in her hand that Kestra had been wearing. The ribbon was cut, but it held a gemstone that would be worth a month's lodging.
"The lady wishes to pay with this," Trina said. "It should cover her room and provide generous meals for all of us."
I passed it from her to the innkeeper and wondered how the man could have missed Kestra's horrified expression, or the way her chest heaved in anger. Maybe because he only had eyes for the precious gem.
"You'll want a separate room, I assume?" the innkeeper asked me.
I shook my head. "I'll stay with the lady. For her protection."
"Sir, I can assure you, my inn is very safe. If it's the rebels you fear, we keep them far away."
Somehow, my smile hid my true feelings, and my identity. All I said was, "I have no fear of the Coracks. But I'll protect my lady in her room."
The innkeeper snorted, but with that gemstone clutched in his palm, he was hardly going to argue the matter. I held out a hand for Kestra. Her expression could freeze fire, which made me nervous. This was the first big test. She could tell the innkeeper who Trina and I really were. She only had to say the words and the innkeeper would call for help. My other hand shifted to my sword. The innkeeper would die first, and anyone who came to his assistance. Then I would have to kill Kestra. She'd get no second chances.
I hated this. Hated that the determination of whether I was about to use my sword rested in the hands of a girl who had so little respect for life. If the innkeeper had to die, Kestra probably wouldn't care. I did. I killed when I had to, when there was no other choice, and it made me sick every single time. Dallisors killed for pleasure, and power, and to gain favor from Lord Endrick.
Kestra hadn't even wanted that much. She'd sent me to my death for little more than a pat on the head from her father. How disappointed she must be to see me still alive.
Luckily, she accepted my hand and somehow managed a smile at the innkeeper as she exited the carriage.
He bowed low to her. "The daughter of Sir Henry Dallisor comes to us. It is an honor to receive you. If you will dine with me, I have kept a meal warm."
"My lady is not hungry," I said. Under no circumstances could she have an hour of privacy with this man. "And she should get out of this cool night air."
"Of course. I meant no offense in inviting her."
"And my servant means no offense in speaking so boldly." Her gaze flicked upward. "My apologies for his lack of manners. If you wish to give the boy a good whipping, I won't object."
I would. Thanks to her, I'd already been whipped once. That was enough.
The innkeeper only bowed again and then led us into the inn. The interior was nicer than I had expected, based on what I'd seen from the outside. We first entered a dining area, which seemed reasonably clean and had a lingering smell of roast that made my mouth water. Behind that was a narrow hallway that probably led to other rooms. I wasn't sure how many other guests were here tonight, or who they might be. The way my night was going, each room was probably stuffed with soldiers.
Kestra was offered the upstairs room, where the innkeeper assured her she would have absolute privacy for as long as she wished to stay.
"We'll be gone first thing in the morning." I was too tired and nervous to care about manners. How did Dallisors endure such suffocating hospitality?
"But meals can be delivered to our room." Trina exchanged a glare with Kestra as she spoke. Maybe that was what they had fought about. We'd had to leave camp early to get into place before Kestra's carriage arrived on that road. Neither of us had eaten for hours.
"We require no meals," Kestra said to the innkeeper. "As you were informed, I am not hungry and my lazy servants deserve no food."
Pretending not to hear Trina's muttering scowl, the innkeeper kept his eyes on Kestra. I'd expected that. We were only servants.
Our room was waiting at the top of a narrow flight of stairs. I went in first, assuring that no surprises were waiting. Everything seemed fine, so maybe I'd just been spooked on the road before. The room was simple, with a single four-poster bed, a stand with hooks for a traveling cloak, and a table with two chairs. A window offered a view to the side of the inn, though it was mostly blocked by a massive oak tree. The bedding was thick and warm, made for someone of her status. Had Kestra ever spent a night on the cold, hard earth, or gone without a meal? Had she ever gotten her hands dirty? What a joke to think such a thing. Of course she hadn't.
The innkeeper entered the room right behind me. "May I show you--"
No, he may not. "My lady is tired," I said. "She hopes you understand."
"Of course!" The innkeeper dipped his head at her. "May I say again, my lady--"
"Good night." I practically pushed him from the room, hoping the door didn't bang on his bowed balding head in the process. "She thanks you for your service."
Technically speaking, Kestra's thanks would likely come in the shape of a fist. Not to the innkeeper, but to me. And to Trina. Her current expression was murderous.
Let her be angry, then. She had made a promise, and my job was to ensure she kept it, nothing more. Four days. All I had to do was outlast this girl for the next four days.
Only one of us could win.
It had to be me.
Kestra might've been angry, but Trina's fury created a charge in the air that bristled against my skin. The instant the door closed, I stepped between the girls, holding Trina back.
"I'm starving!" Trina said. "She knows that. She did that on purpose."
"It can't be changed," I said, ignoring my own hunger pangs. "The innkeeper will be suspicious."
"He's already suspicious." Kestra's face was flush with color. She started with me first. "What was all that 'my lady' talk? You're my guard, not my chaperone. I'm old enough to speak for myself, you fool." To Trina, she added, "And every gesture you make reeks of irritation, like you're hoping for a fight. Do you think a Dallisor would employ any lady's maid with your attitude? Both of you listen carefully. Sometime tomorrow, we'll arrive at my father's home, where mistakes like these will get you killed, and may get me killed if my father thinks I'm helping you by choice. You will stop with this stupidity, for all our sakes!"
My head was down and I kicked at the floor, keenly aware of how silent the room had become. Much as I hated to admit it, Kestra was right. I had overplayed my role, Trina had trumpeted her anger, and if anyone became suspicious about Kestra, a lot of people would have to die. Including the three of us, no doubt.
I finally looked up, feeling the weight of Kestra's frustrations. I expected to face another challenge from her, but instead, tears had welled in her eyes. She was struggling to fight them back, but one had already spilled onto her cheek. When Trina saw, she would mock Kestra brutally over this. There would be another fight.
I turned to Trina. "Go find the innkeeper and tell him your lady has changed her mind and desires a supper, in private. Wait for it and bring it back here yourself. After our generous payment for this room, he'll prepare a nice meal."
Trina practically danced from the room. As soon as she had gone, Kestra said, "You paid for it with the one gift I had from my mother. All I had left of her."
The hurt that caused her creased every
word. I considered apologizing, but then when she turned away to brush at her tears, her attention fell on the window, remaining there far too long. I grimaced, feeling a pressure building in the back of my head. She was assessing her chances of escape. It would be a long night ahead.
A moment later, Kestra turned back to me, speaking so quickly that she clearly had planned this speech. "Your captain's plan won't work. This idea of a dagger choosing some Infidante to assassinate Lord Endrick is preposterous. It's a myth, a story the Banished hold on to because it's their sole hope of regaining power. Even if it's true, there are no clues to the whereabouts of the missing dagger. Don't you think those dungeons have been searched a thousand times already? And even if we do find something, the Woodcourt gates will not open for me to leave after only four days. It usually takes at least five before my father is fed up with me."
"It'll work. You'll find a way." I sounded more confident than I felt. If anything, I agreed with her. Tenger's plan was insane, and probably based on hope more than reality. It wasn't like the captain to be this careless.
But she wasn't finished. "As you know, Henry Dallisor is not a man of affection." I snorted at her words, but she quickly added, "If he cares for me, I've seen little evidence of it. You must understand that if he suspects me of betraying Lord Endrick, he will dispose of me as quickly as he would any other traitor. Henry Dallisor serves Endrick first, and remembers his daughter last."
"Lord Endrick protects the Dallisors."
"He protects those who serve him. If I'm discovered, nothing I tell him will matter."
Silence fell between us. Fear registered in her eyes and deepened the lines between her furrowed brows. Her family served Lord Endrick, but she was just as afraid of him as most other Antorans. Maybe more.
I stepped closer to her, testing to see how she'd react. "You obviously know how evil Lord Endrick is. How can you support such a man?"
She moved away, obviously uncomfortable. "He's strict, not evil, and he's forced to be so by scum like you." She pressed her lips together in a tight line before adding, "If there were no uprisings, there would be no need for him to respond to regain order."
My jaw clenched. I'd heard these lies many times before, just never from such a beautiful mouth. "Endrick's idea of order is total control, and he'll destroy anything necessary to have that. As an immortal, life has become meaningless to him."
"Your lives are worse than meaningless. You spread fear and chaos, inciting uprisings and violence in your wake, and then you claim it's the Dominion's fault for making you do it."
"The Dominion is crushing this country!"
"You are bees that sting and then complain when Lord Endrick slaps you down. The Corack rebellion and everyone who supports you are destructive. All of you should be hanged!"
I had to contain my temper, or I'd bring that ridiculous innkeeper back here to check on us, but my muscles had tensed and I spoke through gritted teeth. "If you truly believe that, then you are no better than Endrick. Think back, Princess. When did you first decide that some lives were more important than others?"
She blinked hard at that, registering pain from my words. So she could feel. Who knew?
Kestra stepped back farther, trying to recover. "It's irrelevant what you think of me. My point is that you must understand the flaws in your plan. I'm begging you to send word to your people to release my servants. If the Olden Blade does exist, then I'll keep my end of the bargain, but if I fail, they shouldn't be held responsible."
My bitter laugh mocked her, which was my exact intention. "You care for your servants now? Since when?"
"I care about these two. I remember when you served my family, Simon. I remember that day--"
No, we weren't going to talk about that day. If Tenger knew the details of it, he'd never have assigned me to this job. I marched forward, forcing Kestra back until she was against the wall. "Everything you say is a lie! Do you think I'm stupid?"
She smirked. "Stupid is the least of your problems."
Kestra stopped there, unwilling to back down, so neither would I. The anger between us was like fire, and the next one to speak would likely pour oil on it.
How foolish I'd been. I never should've cared if Tenger hurt her knee, or if she was afraid, or if this mission destroyed her life. I'd been wrong before. She didn't feel, no more than any of Endrick's puppets.
We both turned as Trina entered the room, carrying a tray covered by a cloth. She looked from Kestra to me and smiled. "It feels like war in here. And they say I'm the hotheaded one."
I closed the door while Trina set the tray on the small table in the room. Kestra's eyes immediately found the bowl, filled with a thick venison stew. But I knew she wouldn't say anything, no matter how hungry she was.
"What should we do about her while we eat?" Trina asked.
My temper had cooled enough to think rationally again. We couldn't bring her into Woodcourt half-starved. I motioned Kestra over to the table. "Come eat."
"After Trina has breathed on it? I'd rather eat off the floor."
Cursing loudly, Trina scooted back the chair she'd already been sitting in. She leapt toward Kestra, who waited until the last second before sidestepping, leaving a foot in her path. As quickly as Trina was moving, her sprawl onto the floor went wide. Trina's hand caught the edge of the meal tray, sending the stew to the floor, its inviting scent rising in the room. None of us would eat now.
I withdrew my sword from its sheath and held it out toward Kestra. But she casually waved it away.
"Don't pretend you'll use that." She scowled. "You have your orders."
It had never been about using the sword. It was a distraction for Trina, who pounced on Kestra from behind, bringing her to the floor. She locked Kestra's arms behind her back, shoving her face down.
"Get me some rope, Simon!"
I hesitated. Everyone just needed to calm down and get through the night, but Kestra was clearly determined to cause problems. Tying her up would be our only chance to keep the situation under control.
I dug into my satchel for a ball of twine and handed it to Trina. She wound it around Kestra's wrists, more times than was necessary and probably tighter than it had to be. But Kestra didn't complain, either because the knots weren't bothering her or, more likely, because she didn't want us to think they were. While Trina pulled her to her feet and tied her to a post of the bed, Kestra glowered at us as if already plotting her revenge.
I knew I should intervene, but I didn't. After what she'd just done, Kestra deserved to be tied up. Besides, I still had scars on my wrists from when I'd been bound up that day. A part of me wanted Kestra to know how that had felt.
Trina stood back to admire her handiwork. I noticed Kestra was already twisting her wrists, trying to loosen the knots. I'd give her a few minutes with them, then loosen the knots myself.
"What do we have for a gag?" Trina asked.
Kestra's head shot up. "Don't gag me. I won't scream."
"Look at her eyes!" Trina squealed, enjoying this moment far too much. "She's afraid!"
Yes, she was, though I didn't know why and knew she'd never offer the information. Maybe this had something to do with her kidnapping a few years ago. I'd heard rumors about what happened to her then, why she vanished from her home the same night she returned from the Halderians. But that's all they were, rumors.
Use that knowledge against her. Tenger's voice echoed in my head, his unspoken order. It's what the Dominion would do to us, turning information into torture. But we weren't the Dominion.
Trina wasn't ready to let anything go though. She picked up a roll that had fallen to the floor in their scuffle and held the warm bread beneath Kestra's nose. "Can you smell this? Wish you could eat it?"
"All I smell is you," Kestra countered. "Did you bathe in horse manure?"
"Enough." I only wanted the night to end. "Trina, enough! Help me clean up."
"Make her do it. It's her fault."
"Yes, but you'r
e the servants, not me." Even in bindings, Kestra still believed she was the mistress here.
Trina checked her knots again, tightening them out of spite rather than necessity. Then she knelt on the floor beside me, using one of Kestra's fine skirts from her trunk as a rag for the stew.
When we had finished, Kestra said, "You both hate me. Not the idea of me, as a Dallisor or a lady of the Dominion. You hate me. Why?"
Trina started to answer, but I shook my head. "Don't."
"It's her fault that you--"
"Don't."
Kestra's face softened. "Do you mean when you were sent to the dungeons? We have to talk about that."
"No, we don't."
"I remember--"
Trina cut in. "Do you remember kicking him in the head?"
My hands clenched into fists. Of course Kestra would remember that. She had stormed into the servants' quarters, ten years old but thinking herself twice that age. I'd been asleep in a corner of the room. She had kicked me awake.
"You kicked hard for a ten-year-old," I said.
"I kick harder now. Besides, you took my mother's ring--you deserved it."
"I never did." Our eyes connected. "Nor did my friend John, whom you also accused to your father. You lied, Princess. You lied and got an innocent man executed."
Silence fell heavy in the room. For six years, I had waited to say that to her, but now that I had, I simply felt empty, as if the anger that had fueled me all this time had suddenly dried up. I should have expected this. No words between us would change that day.
John and I had each received ten snaps of a whip against our backs. Then we were thrown into Henry Dallisor's dungeons, bound with ropes that had cut into my wrists just like the twine was no doubt cutting into hers right now. Thanks to a sharp edge on the rocks of my cell, I'd escaped the ropes. Escaping the dungeons themselves was a matter of dumb luck, nothing more. John got no such favors from the fates.
Kestra's lashes fluttered, as if I'd care about her regrets. "I was ten."
"And we were friends! Or was that also a lie?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper now. "We were friends, Simon."