Page 134 of Thorn Season
“I’m not finished.” Her cheeks puffed out with a long sigh. “I don’t agree with the path you’re choosing... But I’ll walk beside you, every step. Even if that means watching you tie yourself to a ship on fire.”
“Erik’s the ship?”
A cheerless, lopsided smile. “Erik’s the fire.”
She deposited the letter on my vanity, and I grabbed her hand.
Tari sighed. “Alissa, I can’t go. My contract doesn’t end until tomorrow.”
But I was already reaching toward the vanity again, handing her a second sheet of paper. “Actually,” I said softly, “your new contract overrides that.”
Tari’s eyes slowly widened as she read.
I’d detailed everything in my letter—had planned on Amarietelling her this last part—because I’d wanted Tari to know that this decision had nothing to do with my wanting her to leave. This was the one decision I would make again and again, regardless of circumstance, because it might be the best decision I’d ever made.
“The seat’s counsel?” Tari asked, half-confused, half-disbelieving.
“It’s an old title, created for the fusty aristocrats who would oversee the provinces when the ruling nobles were away at court, but...” I exhaled, smiling faintly. “I thought the role could use a revival.”
She blinked. Gave a startled laugh. “Are you feverish? I can’t—”
“Manage the Verenian nobles? Observe and navigate the social dynamics between them? Make quick, smart decisions under pressure? You’ve already been doing that here—and you’regoodat it.”
For months, Tari had been agonizing over her calling, trying to map out the rest of her life. Yet I’d never seen her more content—more vibrant from the thrill of a challenge—than during these weeks at court.
“Don’t you enjoy it?” I asked.
“Well... maybe. All right,yes, but—Alissa—managing aprovince? I’m not an aristocrat.”
“No, you’re not. You actuallycareabout the people, no matter their background or bloodline. You want to make this kingdom better than it is. You deserve this role more than any aristocrat.” I crossed my arms. “And if the lack of a noble lineage is the only reason you won’t take it, then it’s not a good enough reason.”
Tari looked toward the contract again, concern etching her forehead. It was a concern I didn’t share. Even in the best-case scenario—even if everything went to plan tonight—I would be engaged to Erik in the morning. I was about to tumble into a world of pomp and royalty, leaving the home I loved behind.
And there was nobody I trusted more than Tari to take care of it.
When she looked at me again, something soft and joyful gleamedbehind her worry. Something akin to true fulfillment. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she breathed.
I looked at my best friend and hoped she couldn’t see the sadness in my smile. Couldn’t sense the twisting in my chest as I made another painful goodbye.
“That’s all right,” I said. “Iknow you can.”
Using myself as bait had been a last resort. But I had too many unanswered questions—about the compass’s whereabouts, the keeper who’d ordered Father’s murder—and I needed someone willing to give me answers. As Erik had told Quincy, anyone could be bought for the right price; Father’s killer had even suggested it before he’d pinned me in the study. If the next brute sent to kill me wouldn’t reveal his secrets for a generous amount of gold, I was prepared to incentivize him in other ways.
But like the last man, he would bring a dullroot canister—and his eurium weapons could incapacitate my specter. So I’d made my first demand of Sabira:Map out the palace passageways for me.And over the last ten days, I’d practiced running through every route.
Because to disarm my next attacker, to truly best him in battle, I would need to draw him onto a playing field I could control.
In hindsight, I shouldn’t have worn heels.
I clopped into the grand foyer, where the first hum of festivity poured out with the scent of sweet wine. Fabric rustled and I jumped, whirling around.
Perla was watching me from behind a marble pillar, her fine features pressed thin. “You look lovely in indigo,” she murmured.
“Thank you. You look lovely in...” I surveyed her gown: an awkward, watery color that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be cream or salmon. “You look lovely,” I finished. “Are you joining the celebrations before the ceremony?”
“I don’t have much to celebrate.”
“You’re young and beautiful. Many can’t boast the same.”
