Page 98 of Thorn Season
I climbed over my attacker’s legs and stalked away.
But I halted at the door, looking over my shoulder. I spoke softly, as if with the slow twist of a knife. “I would have begged the king to spare you,” I said, holding his stare. “You would’ve been free.”
Garret’s face sank with regret. He inhaled to speak when I wrenched the door open, silencing his wet apology.
“If Erik asks me,” I said, turning away, “I’ll tell him to kill you all.”
29
It was strange, being bereaved. The courtiers who’d gossiped with me ten days ago were now grave-faced and formal, heads dipping as they passed me in the palace gardens.
Only Carmen treated me the same. She still wore black in solidarity, though all manner of brilliant jewels adorned her wrists and fingers. The wretched girl couldn’t last an hour without a splash of color.
“Nobody would blame you for withdrawing from the rest of Rose Season,” she said for the third time today. Though she’d embraced me as soon as I’d returned to the palace—and I’d wanted to crawl out of my skin at her touch—she’d been encouraging me to leave ever since.
“It’s too painful to be home right now,” I said. “I need space to heal.”
It was the same dismal excuse I’d fed Amarie when she’d begged me, teary and trembling, to remain with her in Vereen. As if the days after the funeral hadn’t been excruciating enough, having to watch her weep into her tea, or wander aimlessly about the parlor, or dissolve into a guilt-ridden mess whenever she walked past that linen closet. The closet from which she hadn’t tried to escape while her oldest, dearest friend had bled out several floors above.
You couldn’t have done anything to save him, I’d told her withoutfeeling, too depleted to ease anyone’s pain but my own. Then, for the second time in a month, I’d ignored her pleas to stay. And I’d left my home—left her alone inside it—without turning back.
Carmen nodded now, curls bouncing. “After my father died, I couldn’t set foot in the dining hall. That was where he choked, you know.”
Choked.
I almost laughed.
“I heard they caught the man,” she went on. “That must offer some comfort, at least.”
The circulating story was that a Verenian citizen had attacked Father for raising the tax; the town guards had caught him breaking into the house again after the funeral, and they’d executed him on sight. Though a hideous little tale, it would give the copycats a reason as to why my attacker hadn’t returned to them—hopefully without implicatingmeas the one who’d broken his neck.
Maybe I’d offer Carmen’s mother the same fate if I found the compass in her hands. Or maybe I’d poison her and blame it on choking, in echo of how she’d killed her own husband.
Maybe I’d make Carmen watch.
“Yes,” I said, nails biting into my palms. “It gives me great comfort.”
We were rounding a hedge of blue hydrangeas when footsteps clacked toward us.
“Lady Alissa,” Tari said, panting, her braid swinging. “A delivery arrived for you.” Her gaze flicked to Carmen, then back to me. “From Vereen.”
Carmen turned toward me, smiling tightly. “You should tend to that.”
I walked back through the palace alone.
Every part of me ached, from my bruised throat to the constant pull of my specter. My loose hair kept catching the shell of my ear where my cut was scabbing over. The most alive I’d felt since discovering my father’s body was the night I’d killed his murderer. I didn’t know what that said about me, but I didn’t really care.
Keil was leaning against my door when I arrived, looking more solemn than I’d ever seen him. I’d almost forgotten he existed. The rosy memory of Budding Ball didn’t seem to belong with this version of me.
“My lady.” He bowed low. “I haven’t seen you since...” He swallowed, wincing. “I wanted to—I mean, I came to offer my condolences.”
I’d never seen him stumble over his words. It was a rather pathetic look on him.
“Thank you,” I said dully.
“I wanted to attend the funeral. But I thought, considering my past with your father, it wouldn’t have been appropriate.”
Because their only interaction had been through a ransom note.
