The Crown of Embers(35)
The animagus uttered similar words. I swallow the panic that rises in my throat. “Why? Why warn me?”
“I like my life. My secret village turns a nice profit on river scavenge. The people I lead are stupid and filthy, but they treat me with respect, even worship. All my needs are tended to. I would like things to stay exactly the way they are, and I know the city of Brisadulce has its best chance of remaining stable if you are in power and well aware of the Invierne threat.”
Hector leans forward, nostrils flared, face hard. I have never seen him so angry. “The Inviernos will find that Elisa is very difficult to kill,” he says, making the dagger dance in the air by some gymnastic of wrist and fingers.
Storm laughs, and the sound is as brittle as breaking glass. “Did I say kill? I don’t believe I did. Invierne wants her very much alive. Though I assure you that if one of Invierne’s innumerable spies gets hold of her, she will wish herself dead.”
It’s possible that I hate this man after all. “This audience is over,” I snap. “Take him to the prison tower.”
My guards pin his arms and turn him around.
“Arresting me will mean my death, Your Majesty,” he calls over his shoulder. “And once Invierne finds me and kills me, you’ll learn nothing more. I know you’re curious. About us. About what we want with that thing in your belly.”
“Wait!” I say, and the guards halt. “And if I let you return to your village?”
“Visit any time and ask all the questions you want. As I said, I am your loyal subject. You have nothing to fear from me.”
I pretend to consider for a long moment. “You may go free. But Storm, in accordance with God’s will, I must be honest and tell you that I hope you will give me an excuse to kill you.”
Something flits across his face. I hope it’s fear. He bows. “Until we meet again, Your Majesty. Remember to watch yourself.” The guards step aside. He flips the cowl over his head and sweeps from the room.
I whisper to the guards, “Follow him.”
They nod, wait a few beats, and then one slips out the door after him.
“Well,” says Hector, sheathing his daggers. “I believe that really was the former ambassador, different hair color notwithstanding. I remember him being deeply unpleasant.”
“Arrogant superiority must be a cultural obsession. The animagi I encountered were much the same.”
He crosses his arms and leans a hip against the desk. “You could simply make it known that he’s here. If what he said is true, his own people will take care of him.”
Seeing Hector in such a relaxed pose helps me force the tension from my own limbs. I take a cleansing breath and say, “I’m glad you were here, Hector. I admit that was terrifying.”
His sloppy grin makes my stomach clench, not unpleasantly. “You faced him down like a seasoned warrior,” he says.
“Only because I had your daggers at my back.”
“Always.”
“Do you think he was telling the truth? About the spies? About why he wanted to warn me?”
Hector shrugs. “Alejandro and I used to speculate that the Inviernos are incapable of falsehood. They tend to go silent and refuse to speak rather than lie. He was wrong about one thing, though. Someone wants you dead, as your wounds attest.”
Reflexively, my fingers find my Godstone. Then they shift left, skim my bodice. It’s thin enough for me to feel the ridges of my new scar. Another possibility occurs to me, and I gasp in surprise.
“What is it?”
“Hector, what if it wasn’t an assassination attempt. Is that possible? Did someone mean to take me alive?”
His dark eyes seem to whirl as his considerable intelligence chews on the idea. Without breaking my gaze, he says to the remaining guard, “Lucás, step outside and watch the hallway.”
“Yes, my lord,” comes the voice. The door creaks open, bangs closed.
Hector and I are alone.
Chapter 9
I’M suddenly aware of the silence; no creak of armor, no footsteps, no quiet chatter. Just his breath and mine, steady and even. It’s the first time I’ve been alone—truly alone—with anyone in weeks, and it feels as though we are sharing a secret.
He says, “I don’t care to discuss what happened that day in front of my men.”
“Why not?” Looking up at him is giving my neck and shoulders a crick, so I stand and stretch my arms to the ceiling, careful of my mending side. Softly, I say, “What did happen that day, Hector? Were you the one who found me?”
He turns, putting his back to me. “The general held me back after the Quorum meeting,” he says. “I let myself get distracted. I didn’t go after you right away.” When he turns back around, his face is stricken. “Elisa, I’m so sorry.”