Page 111 of Sonnets and Serpents
Eliza leaned over the bed again, speaking urgently. “The man who found you after the cobra. What did you tell him?”
Ceyda kept her eyes closed, hands pressed to her head.
“Please! Did you tell him about Yvette?”
“Who?” Ceyda looked up at last, her blue eyes cloudy.
“The Stone Caster your father built the prison with.”
“I don’t know anyone from his work except Silas Bennett.”
Eliza stumbled back, feeling sick. She had focused on trying to prove Yvette innocent, but she’d never considered what it meant if she was. She’d never looked for who was actually guilty.
Silas worked with Kerem. Trusted him more than anyone else.
She had to warn him, before it was too late.
Each passing second dragged through Eliza’s heart like a needle, leaving behind stitches of dread. She told Gill and Henry her suspicions, and then they justlookedat her, like they expected her to know how to solve everything.
They’re looking to their princess, she realized. It was the same look people had always given Aria. Whether Eliza wanted to be or not, for two members of the Loegrian court, she was the authority figure in the room.
Silas had never looked at her like that. He might have called her “Highness,” but he had no difficulty taking charge, no qualms about making his own intentions clear. When they’d infiltrated the kuveti prison, they’d made the plan together.
“I need some input here!” she burst out. “I don’t know where Silas is. Do we search for him first, or will that waste too much time? Would it be better to go straight to the dean? Kerem may already be there. As soon as he knows we’re suspicious, we’ll be covered in cobras.”
Gill took the invitation first, resting one hand on his sword. “We can split up. I’ll search for Silas. You and Henry inform the university’s dean.”
As always, Eliza found herself a walking contradiction. She’d asked for opinions, yet upon receiving one, her instinct was to protest. The thought of running to the dean instead of to Silas felt like asking a famished woman to ignore a feast. Her willpower cracked.
But she was the only one who could speak Pravish, however roughly.
“Fine,” she forced herself to say. “If you—”
“I can’t protect her,” Henry interjected, his voice pained. “I don’t have a weapon, and even if I did, you’re the far better swordsman. You go with Eliza, and I’ll look for Silas.”
“You havea weapon,” Eliza said. “You have magic.”
And Silas was right; it was nothing to be ashamed of.
“Baron,” Henry said, ignoring Eliza.
But she refused to be ignored.
“You can bothlook for Silas, then! I’ll protect myself!” She threw her hands up. “I don’t know why all the men in my life are so eager to be rid of me, but I’m taking it personally. Good riddance to you all.”
She stormed from the healing hall, passing physicians and Casters. The late afternoon sun slanted into her eyes, set against her just like everything else, and she raised a hand to block it.
After a few minutes, Gill caught up. Henry was nowhere to be seen. Eliza clenched her jaw but said nothing, practicing silently what she would say to the dean.
They climbed to the fourth floor of the Yamakaz, and although Eliza had never personally met Afshin during her time at the university, she pretended full confidence when knocking at his door.
A pair of guards answered, and Eliza gave her name and title, certain to saycrown princessproperly this time. They looked skeptical—she was just a frazzled girl in Pravish clothing—but, thankfully, Gill had the official paperwork and seal from Ariato legitimize an ambassador claim. After a brief conference between dean and guards, they were admitted.
The dean’s office had a welcoming feel, with curved walls and a domed ceiling. Overhead windows beamed in sunlight. Afshin greeted them both with a warm smile, although he looked haggard around the edges. His collar sat askew, as if he’d been pulling at it, and stress shadowed his eyes.
“A Loegrian delegation!” Afshin said, ushering them to a cushioned seating area.
Eliza stifled a groan, realizing he spoke perfect Loegrian. So much for her practice.
