Page 99 of In the Ravenous Dark
Now I have a bellyful ofwrithingsnakes.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Japha says, holding up a hand. “You’re giving hertonightto kill the king? What happens if she succeeds, and yet no one else understands why she had to kill him? They’ll just see an inhuman assassin—sorry, Rovan—backed by a foreign influence. We need to get the word out to key people, to convince them what we’re doing is right, so everything doesn’t devolve into chaos evenifRovan succeeds.”
“What do you suggest?” the queen asks.
“I would speak with my father, General Tumarq, on your behalf,” Japha says. “He leads Thanopolis’s army.”
“What if you regret your new alliance with us and wish to betray our plans to the general?” Alldan asks.
Japha raises their hands. “I don’t see how I could put you in a worse predicament. You’re already under suspicion for aiding in Kineas’s assassination, and”—they wave around at the courtyard—“you’re all trapped here anyway—you, Delphia, your whole delegation. Unless you wish to flee the city before Rovan makes her move?”
The queen shakes her head. “That could draw too much attention. Besides, Alldan needs to remain there. Rovan must act now, and Alldan make ready. It’syouI’m less sure of,” she says to Japha.
“I can help, too,” I say. “I’ll get Japha into the palace, and I’ll… I’ll help seal our alliance another way. Before I kill the king, I need to get Lydea out of there. I’ll bring her over to our side while Japha is doing whatever they’re doing.” I force myself to say it, even though the words taste rancid. “If Thanopolis’s own princess, who will be queen regent and whose son will be heir to the throne, takes her place at your side—onSkyllea’sside, don’t you think that’s worth the risk?”
“If you”—the queen holds my eyes with her strange white gaze—“bring Princess Lydea, Alldan’s betrothed, out of the palace, you might tip the scales of balance ever more in your favor. Not to mention secure my trust. And you,” she adds to Japha, “if you convince your father not to turn on my son, whowillbe Lydea’s consort, you will win more than my trust. I will grant you whatever you wish.”
She walks entirely out of the portal’s frame, not even waiting for our response. Delphia shoots me an agonized look and says, “Please go get her.”
I will. I’ll do whatever I can to free Lydea from those who would use her.
Even if it means betraying Skyllea’s trust.
30
The night air feels warm and alive against my skin as I slip through the shadows of the palace’s outer courtyards. The perfume of garden flowers rises thick about me, and cold dew coats my feet through my sandals. My tunic is black, hooded in the Skyllean fashion, but not too long to tangle up my legs. My limbs are twined in black cloth to cover my too-pale skin. I have two half-moon blades strapped to my hips, courtesy of the Skyllean armory.
I feel so unbelievably free for the first time since my arrival at the palace that the smallest, most selfish part of me just wants to leave this all behind. Prowl through endless night—go where I want to go, see what I want to see, and be what I want to be, with Ivrilos at my side. Dodging the guard patrols, opening a door in the outer garden walls for Japha, using air and shadow to cloak us while my eyes picked out every detail in the darkness—it was all so easy. I could vanish into the night.
But I can’t leave Lydea trapped in the palace. I can’t leave Japha by themself, at the mercy of either Thanopolis or Skyllea. And I can’t leave a revenant king ruling over the only city I’ve ever known.
Still, I can’t help but wonder what storm I’m about to unleash on Thanopolis. It needs it like a cleansing rain, but I still feel like everything is moving so fast. And Lydea…
How will this storm hit her?
Blessedly, the night air is mostly calm as I begin my climb. Scaling the outer spiral of the palace is death defying, but I have no problem with that. And it’s even easier for me when I whisper a fewwords that come to mind. Handholds sink into the stone when I reach for them, almost as if I’m scooping them out with my fingers.
I still almost fall when Ivrilos appears in the air next to me, startling me. One would think I would be used to that by now.
“That is really weird,” I mutter, a breeze tossing my hair. “You look more like a ghost than ever when you justfloat.”
“You should see yourself,” he says with a grin, and then tucks my hair behind my ear, midair. I’m still not used to his touch, either; I find it more startling than all the impossible flying and climbing.
It doesn’t take me long to find the outer wall of Lydea’s quarters, many stories above the distant gardens below. I know the view and the shape of her windows well. I peer in through the glass but see only dim candlelight through a crack in the curtains.
I use sigils to widen the wood around the metal latches so they don’t hold properly anymore. I figure it’s the quietest way in. Thank the goddess the hinges are well oiled—the window swings silently open. I part the curtain with a fingertip, and see the sprawling, bedlike couch of her sitting room, silver and white as a cloud, empty save for the blue and black pillows strewn across it. I slip my legs over the sill.
Sigils grip my ankle in invisible fingers and drag me the rest of the way inside. I could break their hold—I see them so clearly now, and they’re not as strong as me—but I don’t.
My hip and elbow thwack loudly as they hit the floor in rapid succession. I feel pain, but it’s different. Like it’s a memory, or as if my flesh is nearly numb.
“Ow,” I say, mostly out of habit, as more sigils pin my shoulders flat to the ground.
Lydea stands over me, staring, open mouthed. She looks every bit as beautiful as I remember her. Her black hair falls in a long braid over her shoulder, a few pieces sticking out in disarray, and her midnight blue robe is sheer enough to make my eyes tripover her. Her red lips and bloodline look as vivid as if a painter just limned them on her pale skin. I don’t have any clue how I look to her in my black tunic and bound limbs, with my hair wind tousled. But I know I probably look different from how she remembers me.
“Rovan,” she chokes, a hand going to her mouth. “I thought…” She can’t finish, because her eyes are flooding with tears. I’ve never seen her cry before.
“That I did something stupid?” I say with a nervous laugh. “Well, I did.”
