Page 71 of Her Cruel Redemption

‘Then you already know most of it.’

She cocked her head slightly to the side. ‘I have a feeling that’s not quite true. And I’ll beg your pardon for the imprudence, ma’am, but I’ve been held prisoner for months on the crime of being your handmaid. I think you owe me the full story.’

I laughed softly. ‘Well, as it turns out you were just lounging around and, I’m quoting you here, drinking tea…’ Then I sighed, gathering the story together around me. I told her of what had happened at Lee Helse the night I’d fled, of Gwinellyn’s sudden appearance in the palace and my decision to jump on the back of a wyvern with her and hide her away in the Yawn. Of the connections she’d made with the Yoxvese and my decision to follow her to Oceatold. I didn’t tell her of my part in Gwinellyn’s disappearance from the palace in the first place, though. I was sure she’d already guessed I had a hand in it by now anyway. She listened without speaking, her expression as mild and unruffled as it ever was.

When I’d finished speaking, she was quiet for a while, carefully sipping her tea. ‘Where did the scars come from?’ she asked after a few minutes. There was sympathy in her eyes as she said it, but for some reason it didn’t bother me the way it did when I saw it in anyone else’s. For a moment, I let myself feel that sympathy, let it soothe that angry, raw part of me that couldn’t come to terms with what had happened to me, the part of me that was still screaming as they held my face to the flames.

‘I had them before I knew you,’ I said.

She nodded slowly, gaze flicking over me, understanding clearing her eyes. ‘That’swhat he had over you.’

‘He gave me a way to hide them.’

‘It was the mirror, wasn’t it? The one in the cabinet you wanted specially made. I found it shattered in your room before I was taken prisoner. The whole room smelt like magic.’

I huffed. ‘You’re far too sharp for your own good.’

‘I’m sure plenty have said the same of you.’

Reaching across the table, I took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m so glad to have you back.’

A warm smile creased her eyes. ‘Thank you for caring enough to pay the price to get me back.’ The smile softened a little, becoming sad as something else seemed to occur to her. ‘What did he ask of you?’

‘That I attend the negotiations.’ I released her hand, sat back in my chair. ‘Just another power play. He likes forcing me to comply with whatever he wants. As if it wasn’t enough to start a war and chase me into Oceatold. ’ She was looking at me strangely, frowning now. ‘What?’ I asked, wary of her scrutiny.

‘What’s your plan?’ The frown scored lines around her mouth and pale eyes. ‘You’re going to march on Port Howl with the Oceatold army, and then what?’

‘What do you mean?’

She leaned forwards, elbows on the table, hands clenched together around her mug. ‘What will you do when you have to confront your husband?’

‘Kill him,’ I said immediately. ‘And he’s not my husband anymore. He never really was. He’s a liar and a fiend and he’s going to pay for all he’s done.’

Her eyes flickered as they scanned my face. She looked like she was chewing on something she wanted to say, and I waited for her to spit it out. But after a moment, she just sat back and finished the rest of her tea. Before I could ask her any other questions, Lord Faucher came gusting into the tent, watery eyes immediately picking us out.

‘Here you are!’ he puffed, approaching us in all his bluster, casting his attention over Leela. ‘This is the handmaid, then? The one who was held prisoner?’

‘Her name is Leela,’ I said through my teeth. Leela raised her brows at me, looking faintly amused by my reaction.

‘Yes, yes, she must come with me. King Esario wants to speak with her.’

‘Then you can look Leela in the eye, ask her if she would mind speaking with the king, and if she would please follow you when she’s finished her tea.’

His brow crumpled in consternation. ‘If she would… well of course she must speak with him! It isn’t a matter of—’

‘Faucher,’ I snapped, cutting him off as I jabbed a finger back at the opening to the mess tent. ‘Go and stand over there. She’ll join you if and when she’s ready.’

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but the formation of words seemed beyond his capabilities. I flicked my fingers, and after a moment he turned—perhaps to hide how bright red his face had gone—and lumbered back to the entrance to the tent.

‘That wasn’t necessary,’ Leela said quietly.

‘Oh, it was. I’m not playing nice with the powerful men of Oceatold and Brimordia anymore. I have the advantage of scaring the pants off most of them now, so I don’t need to. I tell you, Leela, magic is far better than a crown for that. You’ve no idea.’

‘Magic,’ she repeated, her voice hushed. ‘What he told me is true?’

‘As true as—’ I paused mid-sentence, registering what she said. ‘Draven told you about my magic?’ And now I was scanning her face for something different, because the idea that any of their interactions had ever been a two-way conversation had never occurred to me. My vision of her imprisonment being months of dungeon-dwelling torment and interrogation was shifting far more drastically than I could wrap my head around. ‘He… told you things about me too? He didn’t just sit and fire questions at you?’

‘Not often. But when he had news of you, he realised I’d want to hear it.’ She seemed to read my confusion, adding, ‘You get to know someone a little when they visit you every day. Even when they’re your captor, you can’t help but connect in one way or another. It’s human nature to try to understand each other.’

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