Page 74 of Thorn Season
No... I’d seen a crack in that light, down in the tunnels—and again, on the palace balcony. A facet of him that contained something deeper than sorrow. Something more likeguilt.
“You blame yourself for what happened to your sister,” I said in soft realization, “though the blame isn’t yours to bear.”
Like the slow dying of a flame, Keil’s smile faded. That same shadow crept over his face. He stood silent, strands of gold-brown hair sweeping in the breeze.
When he finally spoke, his voice was pained. “The empress wouldn’t let me travel here without the shield of diplomatic immunity. The others made passage first, hoping to stage a rescue. But I waited until your king approved our request for entry. I waited those weeks while they—” He stopped, released a juddering breath. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if I’d arrived sooner, against the empress’s orders. But if it had made one day of difference... one hour...”
He held my gaze with a frankness that made me feel ashamed. Like I was stripping him bare. Or, rather, that he was baringhimself—offering a vulnerability I couldn’t reciprocate even if I wanted to.
And despite our silent competition for the compass, despite the fact that he would hand such a valuable device to the empress who’d kept him from his sister... a part of medidwant to.
So, I offered in quiet confession, “I didn’t know about the dullroot on those glasses.”
Keil surprised me with a faint, tender smile. “I know.”
My specter fluttered—an echo of my churning emotions—and I had to look away. My gaze landed on a charred patch of cobblestones, and all feeling went out of me.
I hadn’t realized how quiet it had become. How we were the only ones around. Had I known where I was going when I’d stormed from Backplace?
I turned to take it in, a chill creeping down my spine.
The Opal had been modeled after Vereen, set to burst with color and craftwork—the first new capital district in two hundred years. That made it worse, seeing it like this: dim and grimy, with paint peeling around the shop fronts and rotten wood boarding the windows. It was how Vereen would look in the wake of disaster.
And the scorch marks beneath that lantern pole, where Erik’s guards had tied the man... Four winters hadn’t washed them away. I could still taste the rancid smoke, still hear the screaming.
Or maybe the screaming had never stopped. Maybe I was still in that crowd, roses grazing my feet, a piece of me tearing away and dissipating like heat rising off the cobblestones—
A touch on my arm—and I jerked, my specter surging. But Keil’s eyes anchored me, his steady warmth blooming across my skin.
“Are you all right?” he asked, brows drawn with concern.
I gulped, waiting for the terror to wash over me. Being here so soon after my attack was like digging a scalpel into a reopened wound.
I nodded and drew back, leaving the Opal on weak legs.
Keil’s solid presence behind me forced me to keep myself together—to focus through my hazy tunnel vision. In the bustling city center, I finally twisted toward him.
His face quickly slackened, and in that moment he didn’t look like a powerful Wielder here to reclaim a coveted Spellmade object for his empress. He looked like a man trying to hide the bemused frown he’d been aiming at my back.
“Good night, Ambassador.” I spoke firmly, so he would understandthe dismissal. Then, after a brief hesitation, I added, “Thank you. For your help tonight.”
He blinked, his expression softening in a way that flipped my stomach again—left me feeling too exposed before him.
So, I walked away. And this time, Keil didn’t follow.
21
The nightmilk was easy to find in the royal kitchens, shelved openly in glass vials for use in evening teas. I hadn’t needed to take the sedative since my fourteenth summer, when the horrors of the Opal had roused me sobbing from so many nightmares that Father had arranged his blankets at my window seat so he could watch over me.
But tonight, with the peeled-and-faded corpse of the Opal bloating in my mind, I would needsomethingto help me sleep.
I was tucking a milky-white vial into my pocket when the light shifted behind me, casting a shadow across the shelves.
“I know why you’re here.”
I spun and thrust myself back against the wall, whacking my elbow.
Perla stood like a wraith in her nightgown, kitchen blades gleaming around her, the lantern glow outlining her inky shroud of hair.
