Page 107 of Her Cruel Redemption

‘No. No, I don’t think so.’ I wasn’t going to inflict my guilt on him. I would leave him in peace to think whatever he wanted of me, to be as angry as he wanted, to hate me as he wanted. I didn’t deserve his forgiveness.

I stared at the slit of the window as Daethie continued to bustle around her workroom. She’d been busy since the city had been reclaimed. There had been heavy losses on both sides. Not that I knew much about the logistics of it all, since I was no longer being included in the conversations surrounding the making of decisions. Never mind that it had been my strategy that won us the city. I should have marched into the room where Esario and Gwinellyn were holed up with their council and demanded the right to a say, but the idea made me… tired. I couldn’t even muster up the drive to demand they answer for the guard who had been assigned to follow me around the city ‘for my protection.’ Protection from what, no one seemed to be able to tell me.

As soon as they’re done using you, they’ll be working to end you.

But none of it touched me, because I barely felt like I was in Port Howl at all. Memories churned through my mind over and over and over, demanding a different resolution than the one I had chosen. Constantly, I wondered where Draven was. Whether he‘d found a boat. Whether he was alright. Weakly, I had tried a few times to tell myself I just wanted to know what he would do next, whether he’d turn around and strike the city again. But it was a pathetic lie that even I couldn’t manage to convince myself was true.

Daethie squeezed my shoulder, and I looked up to see the concern written in her eyes. ‘Where do you go in your head?’ she asked gently. I stared at her blankly, uncomprehending. ‘Wherever it is, you seem to be spending a lot more time there than here at the moment,’ she continued. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine. Elated. We won Port Howl.’ I said tonelessly. ‘All I wanted was to win.’

She stared at me a moment longer, then released a sigh before pressing a vial into my hand. ‘Take it before bed. It might help you get some sleep.’

I hadn’t told her I needed help sleeping. I must have looked as tired as I felt. ‘Thanks.’

I left her to her work, admiring how invaluable she’d made herself with her skills as a healer. She had surely done as much good for the cause of ending the blood trade as anyone, with her tireless mission to heal the sick and injured of this war. Though, I was sure many of those she’d treated would hold onto their hatred and fear. No one knew as well as I did how difficult that was to let go of, how much courage it took to let it fade away and be replaced by a different kind of understanding. Because it meant being unguarded, exposed. It meant the possibility of being wrong. Of being hurt.

When I reached the door, I paused at the muffled sounds of voices beyond. Something made me want to listen. A premonition, a shiver of instinct, something picked up from the way the voices were hushed and excited. Edging the door open, I pressed my ear up to the gap.

‘…and see for yourself. It’s a cracking way to have a little satisfaction. A good kick for every fallen friend. I’ll say he’s a bit unnerving, though. Just sort of takes it. Doesn’t make a noise, except to make some smartass comment that got him another kick. And then he just fucking smiled like he’d come and get me later.’

‘You’re having me on. They’d have crowed about it all over the city by now if it were true. All over the kingdom.’

‘Word is they’re keeping it quiet. Want to parade him through the capital before his execution. So make it quick if you want to come have a gawk, because I reckon they’ll be moving him soon. Old Lidello said as much when I was down there.’

Lidello.My heart was heaving, sinking, my vision narrowing with panic. Magic stirred restlessly in my blood, begging to be drawn to my fingers, excited by the height of my emotions, and the heady hit of nausea that followed reminded me that I needed to get ahold of it. I trembled with the temptation as I snuck the door open a little wider, until I could see them. The two men were standing a few strides away from the door. One was the guard assigned to me, the other just some other prat in a soldier’s uniform.

‘Seems a bit underwhelming, that he’s just been handed over by his own side,’ my guard said. ‘And all that magic he was ‘sposed to be known for just mysteriously gone.’

Magicgone?How? What did that mean?

‘Yeah, a little. But I’m looking forward to seeing him roast. Just don’t let it slip to her in there.’ The other man flicked a hand towards the door, and I ducked out of sight again, burning with anger and terror. ‘I think that might be the other reason they’re keeping it quiet. No telling what she’ll do.’

‘Yeah. And it’d be my job to stop her.’

The two exchanged a few parting words and then the hall was quiet again.

‘Rhi?’

I jolted out of my emotional spiral to realise Daethie was standing in the doorway of the adjoining room, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Leaving. Just leaving.’ The words came out garbled. And then I wrenched the door open and strode out of it like there was nothing wrong. Like inside I wasn’t screaming.

The guard dropped into place behind me. ‘Where to now, miss?’

‘To rest,’ I replied bluntly, trekking back through Saltarre castle to the room I’d been dumped in after I’d come staggering through the city gates, lips swollen, hair tangled with salt and smelling like Draven. It was a small, austere sort of room. Just a bed, a basin, a chest of drawers. Leela had been trying to spruce it up a little, bringing flower arrangements and changing out the blankets and pillows for a set made with embroidered silk that she’d pilfered from who knew where, and generally acting as though she was still my handmaid even though I’d told her time and again that she didn’t need to. When I reached the room, I practically ran to it, slamming the door before the guard had reached his spot beside it. Then I leaned against it, a hand pressed to my mouth, breathing fast and shallow as I slid down the wood and onto the floor.

Parade him through the streets of the capital before his execution.

Execution.

‘No.’ The word escaped into the empty room, seeming to hang before me, growing larger and larger until its echo was drowning out every other sound.No.

It wasn’t possible. I’d misunderstood them. They had been talking about someone else whose capture would be worth parading through the streets of Sarmiers.

And if it was possible… If it was Draven… I leapt to my feet and began to pace, hands clutching my head. I couldn’t breathe. I was strangled by horror, by helplessness. The soldier’s description of kicking the prisoner and being taunted for it weighed in my stomach, cold and heavy. I thought he’d got away. Could he really have been turned over by his own side? Could they really be keeping him locked up somewhere in secret? I felt sick as I considered it, considered what his captors would be doing to him.

I was gnawing on my lip so hard I could taste blood in my mouth, but I couldn’t stop. He’d be an impossible prisoner to contain. He’d surely be able to compel his jailers to let him out, or slit their own throats, or run screaming to their beds. But the soldier had said his magic was gone. Could that really be true? How could that be possible?

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