Page 72 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
Where that amazing bath awaited. A hint of a plant I couldn’t recognize, a mix of lavender and thyme, was already wafting from it.
“And this one?” I pointed to the door opposite the bed, dark and heavily decorated, so at odds with everything else in this bedroom.
Every day I’d wake up–and hopefully, those days were very numbered–it would be the first thing I saw.
“My room,” his voice commanded the space even as he refused to step inside.
My head whirled his way. “Locked from my side, I imagine.”
He shook his head. “And let you scheme your schemes unperturbed? I think not. As soon as I’ll turn my back, I know you’ll do something dangerous. But don’t worry, I won’t come into your room unless invited.”
Said the man who’d protected children from enemy Clans during a massacre. “Maybe I’ll just stick a knife in that back of yours and be done with it.”
As soon as I said it, the images of my father’s murder hit. I’d meant it as a threat, but I’d only managed to maim myself.
My mind and body had been so preoccupied with survival these past few hours, it had tried to shield me from the worst memories.
But as my feet thawed, the grief grew inside me once more.
The change must have shown on my face, no matter how hard I tried to keep my lower lip from wobbling, because the Commander cleared his throat loudly. “What did you want to ask me?”
I shook my head, as if trying to rid it of the blood and the mist and the dagger. They still skulked at the outskirts of mythoughts, waiting for the next moment they would cower me with pain.
I turned, squaring my shoulders.
Gifts, comfort, and show of humanity aside, this was still a negotiation.
“I want to talk to my uncle,” I said.
It was a longshot–and a test.
If I truly was no prisoner, there was no harm in me talking to family, now was there? No matter how powerful or dangerous that family was.
The quickest way to worm out the Commander’s lies was to face the truth, for one. Talking to Silas would let me know exactly what was going on inside the Protectorate and Aquila. As much as that waste of good Vegheara blood was capable of, gods forgive me.
That damn eyebrow raise of his was back with a vengeance. “You want to talk to the man who stole your throne and is telling everyone you’re a coward?”
Lies.
They had to be all lies.
“Yes,” I said. “I doubt you’ll allow a Protectorate envoy in your secret city–”
“Smart girl.”
“–but a palaver portal can do the same thing. Get me an enchanted book connected to Silas and I’ll do the rest.”
Palaver portals weren’t ideal–Dara said most of them could be intercepted with the right spell, the books themselves could be burned, and any missing pages could confuse the portal and make it open in a totally different spot.
But they were better than nothing.
“What if Silas doesn’t want to talk to you?” the Commander asked and I hated that I heard something very close to compassion in his voice. Or pity, which I despised even more.
This was just an act. It had to be.
And such a lame excuse. Already trying to find excuses to keep me ignorant, wasn’t he?
“Then someone from the Protectorate will,” I said with absolute conviction. “You can’t tell me nobody in Aquila wants to make sure I’m alive or not. That is a lie too grand for anyone to swallow. Do not mock my intelligence, Commander. I will not stand for it.”
