Page 30 of In the Ravenous Dark
“What do you think happened to me three years ago?” Japha rejoins. “My mother wasn’t spared, either. She was a princess, and yet she died all the same to give me thisthing.” They lift their red-patterned arm. “I also lost my little sister in that particular game—Selene. She was supposed to inherit the bloodline at twenty.”
Here’s the story I wanted to hear last evening. Now I’m not so eager, but I make myself ask, “What happened?”
“She killed herself,” Japha says bluntly, “to avoid the bloodline,or because she felt she wasn’t a good enough bloodmage, or maybe she was just sad—we’ll never know. With no one else to inherit my mother’s bloodline, they turned to me. They’d ignored the potential in my blood because I trained as a warrior. I failed magnificently at that, so after my sister died, they tested me again and found I was actually a much stronger bloodmage than she had been. Suddenly I made sense, because they found a purpose for me, some way for me to fit into their plan… twisting who I am against me.” Japha scoffs.
I open my mouth, and then close it. “I’m sorry.” The words seem inadequate.
Japha plucks at their armored, flowery gown. “No matter. I’m still here, still me, despite what my skin looks like.Red.” They tsk, glancing at their arm in disdain. “It clashes with so much of what I wear.”
I wish I could just make the best of my situation, but I can’t just sit back andhope. “The crown prince—”
“You mean the king?”
“Him, yes. Tyros. He said he had plans for me, and mentioned something likebroodmarein the same breath, the shit-eater.”
Japha chortles. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a king referred to in quite such terms.” They hesitate. “I’ll help you, however I can.”
I hold their orange-and-kohl-lined eyes. “Why?”
Japha shrugs. “Because you need help. Your father, frankly, doesn’t have the strength to do it.”
I suppress a wince, even though I know it’s true. “Whyyou, though?”
“You’re a wildflower in a garden of rose-covered thorns. And maybe because I get daily reminders, even now, that I don’t belong, either.”
“That doesn’t mean I can trust you. You might just be out for yourself. Andyouled me into that lions’ den.”
Japha cocks their head. “At the banquet, you mean? Delphia is harmless. Lydea less so, but she actually likes you.”
I can’t help my flush, and I wonder if Japha knows about the kissing.
They don’t seem to notice, continuing, “Kineas… just forget about Kineas for now. Forever, if you can.” They stand from the chair in a rustle of orange linen and leather skirting and busy themself straightening their attire in the rose desk’s mirror. “I hate him, but he’s now our crown prince, and there are some things we must suffer with grace. Or at least with excellent clothes and makeup and underhanded insults.” They spin back around, hands on their hips. “So get out of bed and help me suffer in the best way possible, and I will do whatever is in my power to help you do the same.”
“Ah,” I say with a short, bitter laugh. “You just want me to attend all my lessons and social engagements and whatever other horror awaits me, just like everyone else.”
Japha throws up their hands. “I can’t win with you, it seems. I truly want your company, but I’ll tell you a different truth: If you cooperate, your mother will be released after a time deemed suitable proof of your dedication and given a monthly stipend to support herself in peaceful retirement.”
I gape. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”
Japha shrugs innocently. “Maybe I thought you would want a friendly face that came without bribes or threats.”
Cooperating may well be worth it if it means at least one of us—my mother—can be free. That will be worth sacrificing my own freedom.
At least until I find a way to escape.
Still, I shake my head slowly, not willing to give in so soon. To seem weak. “I have no friends here. My father has made that clear enough.”
“Are you sure?” Japha bats their lashes, and I can’t help but roll my eyes and smile. Their expression grows serious. “Your father has never trusted anyone in the palace enough to make a friend. Or maybe he felt too guilty.”
Guilt has been my closest companion, my father told me.
“But I want to be your friend, Rovan,” Japha continues. “Which means I won’t lie—whatever is coming for both of us isn’t going to be pleasant or easy. But I’d rather face it with someone than alone. Anything shy of a death sentence, we’ll deal with.”
They hold out their hand. Despite my reservations, I feel hope for the first time since getting dragged into the Hall of the Wards.
As I reach out, my eyes catch on Japha’s bloodline. I dare ask in the lowest possible voice, “Is there some way to… escape this? Maybe—”
Japha seizes my hand and hauls me up from the bed so hard I fall into them. They wrap their other arm around my waist to steady me and bend their head to my ear in the same motion, whispering, “Not out loud. They’re always listening. Write it.”
