The Curse of Sins, page 35
He and Peter used to take bets on which one of them would be the first to finally break it. They had spent many an early evening in this beachfront tavern, unwinding after Council meetings, or training, or whatever else their duties had required of them.
Remembering his friend was complex. Aidon loathed him for his betrayal, and yet he missed the times he was ignorant of Peter’s true loyalties.
He took a sip of his sparkling wine, the crisp apple notes soothing in the early evening heat. “If you are going to be so displeased, Aleissande, we might as well have stayed in the palace,” he finally drawled, raising a brow as his Second scanned the room once more.
They sat in a far corner, far enough from the door that Aleissande could monitor the crowd, but close enough to the open arches that led to the sidewalk seating that they had multiple ways to exit should they need them.
“It’s important the people see you out after the attack,” Aleissande murmured. “It shows them all is normal.”
“All isn’t normal.” Aidon frowned. He let his gaze travel to the spot on the main thoroughfare that had been washed of a young child’s blood. He had chosen this restaurant not for the memories of his friend, and not to soothe the fears of his people, but to address his own grief. To face it head on, to stare at it until his ears stopped ringing and his body stopped feeling the sickly sensation of blood on his skin.
He turned to find Aleissande watching him, her eyes narrowed in an expression that seemed to be fixed on her face ever since she’d dragged him into that cell and whispered those damning words.
You’re Visya.
He’d nodded, and she’d simply stared at him for a breath before she turned on her heel and left.
She hadn’t mentioned the incident since.
“We need to discuss Ryker’s release,” she said pointedly.
“Is that the most pressing thing we have to discuss?”
Her grip tightened on her water glass. “Yes.”
Aidon leaned back in his chair as he took a long sip of his drink. “You cannot put off this conversation forever, Aleissande.”
“There is no conversation to be had, Majesty, other than what to do with the scum we’re housing in our dungeons. I think it’s best if we—”
“Speaking of the dungeons,” Aidon cut in airily. “You haven’t—”
“Aidon.” His name was no better than a bitter curse as it left her mouth.
Aidon pouted. “I thought you called me that when you were being my friend.”
Aleissande’s eyes flashed. “I am not your friend,” she asserted as she leaned forward, her gaze darting around to see if they’d attracted attention.
Aidon tried to keep his hurt look playful, but he couldn’t deny the comment stung.
“I am not your friend,” Aleissande repeated, her voice kinder now. “I am your Second. It is my job to serve and protect you. Which is why I am telling you, there is no conversation to be had.”
She looked at him pointedly, as if willing him to understand…what?
That she didn’t care?
“It doesn’t bother you?” Aidon asked incredulously.
“What bothers me is there is a councillor in our dungeons who is a member of the Bellare that you have some sort of arrangement with,” Aleissande murmured, shooting another furtive glance around. “And I want to know why.”
Aidon considered his Second for a long moment. He had chosen Aleissande for a reason when Josie had declined him. She was tough, and smart, and loyal. But he hadn’t realized how loyal.
“He knows,” Aidon finally confessed.
“How?”
Again, Aidon took his time before responding. How much could he tell Aleissande?
A burst of laughter sounded from his left, and he let his gaze follow it, landing on a table of friends who were joking and lounging in their chairs, enjoying an evening after a long day of work. Aidon downed the rest of his drink and stood.
“Where are you going?” Aleissande pressed.
“The palace,” Aidon muttered, motioning for her to get up. “If we’re going to have this conversation, we can’t do it here.” He eyed her water glass skeptically before adding, “And we’ll both need a drink.”
***
“The answer is easy.”
Aidon let out a very unkingly snort at Aleissande’s comment. They’d been sitting on one of the palace terraces for over an hour, a bottle of wine, now with only a pour left, sitting on the small iron table between them. Aleissande had remained silent as Aidon told her everything—from Dominic’s betrayal to Viviane’s treason, to Ryker’s blackmail and his threat to bring Vi down with him should Aidon retaliate.
Aleissande’s face was flushed, her cheeks red, and he couldn’t tell if it was in anger at what he’d told her, or the several glasses of wine she’d poured to fortify herself as his tale progressed. Either way, the light of the setting sun only made it worse.
“Easy,” Aidon finally scoffed, taking a sip of his own wine. Still instead of sparkling this time, but crisp and cool regardless. “By all means, do tell what the easy solution is.”
He went to add that if it involved murdering Viviane, he wouldn’t hear of it, but Aleissande had already started speaking. “Either Ryker becomes a spy for us, and he tells us who the other person he told is…or we kill him.”
Aidon wasn’t sure he didn’t want to kill him either way. But a spy could be useful—if they could ever trust him.
“And if he doesn’t comply and his source spreads the news?”
“Then we use Viviane to send a message of what happens when people speak lies about our king,” Aleissande said darkly, her brow furrowed as she gazed at the setting sun. It painted the sky in deep oranges and pinks, streaks of red interrupting the beauty of it.
Aidon thought they looked like blood.
“I’m not killing Viviane,” he muttered. He could feel Aleissande’s glare, just as he could feel the frustration emanating from her as he kept his eyes on the boats that dotted the horizon.
“And why the hells would you spare her life?”
Aidon drained his glass. “Because she has power that could be useful to us. Because she is an example that could be useful to us—one that shows us what happens when the saint’s power is given to humans.”
Aleissande scoffed. “You don’t honestly think the saint would sully the laws of the gods by creating more Visya, do you?”
No. He didn’t. But Aidon had to think of all possible scenarios. Or maybe that was just the flimsy excuse he held on to now, the desperate attempt to keep his hands clean from one more murder. To keep his soul clean from yet another stain.
Either way, he wasn’t sure Aleissande should be making comments about sullying the laws of the gods while talking to him of all people.
“Viviane is—was—Josie’s partner,” he muttered finally.
He’d left that out of his story.
There was a beat of silence before his Second responded. “So?”
Seven hells.
“Have a heart for once, Aleissande,” he sniped, cutting her a look.
“You did not ask me to be your Second because of my sentimentality,” she shot back. “And if your sister were loyal, she would want her partner hanging from the gallows.”
Aidon turned his head to her fully, his movements slow as he set his glass down on the table. “You have no idea the depths Josie has gone to out of loyalty to me,” he retorted. “So you be careful when you speak about my sister with that tone.”
Aleissande’s jaw tightened. “She does not need your coddling.”
“Nor does she need your disparagement,” he bit out. Her mouth opened, as if a rebuttal was primed on her tongue, but she stopped herself and sat back against her chair, her back as stiff as the iron that made up their seats.
Silence fell between them, interrupted only by the sound of the crashing of the waves against the cliffs. The king and his Second stayed like that, watching the ocean, before Aidon finally broke the silence.
“Still think the answer is easy?” he drawled, ready for a change of subject.
Aleissande barked a laugh. “I do. So you don’t want to use Viviane as leverage. That’s fine. We’ll use the Bellare.”
Aidon cocked his head. “What?”
She shrugged. “If Ryker doesn’t want to become our mole, then we won’t just kill him. We’ll kill them all.”
***
That was, perhaps, the first time Aidon had realized how truly terrifying Aleissande could be. But in the end, she was right. Because three days later, she had secured a name from Ryker. A day after that, she had arrested the rebel and used her own Sensainos affinity to wrench the truth from him. He was indeed the person Ryker had told. The rebel was dead the next morning, and Ryker, with an understanding that he would report on the Bellare’s activity weekly to Aleissande, was free.
They had their mole.
And she had made it look easy.
55
They said the blood turned the waters of the Anath so crimson, it looked black. That the wood of the ships in the port of Sitya was stained with streaks of red, as if bodies had slid down them slowly as they bled out.
Perhaps they had.
“How many dead?” Gianna’s question was sharp enough to pierce through the fog in Aya’s mind. She blinked, the room coming into focus. They were in Gianna’s formal meeting chambers, seated around the long mahogany table where they’d sat after the Athatis attack—just hours before everything unraveled nearly four months ago.
“It’s impossible to know,” Lena said heavily. She was standing, her sculpted arms folded across her chest. “But from what I could garner…at least one thousand.”
Aya’s stomach clenched.
One thousand. That had to be nearly all of Sitya and the Midland forces Queen Nyra had ordered to guard the port city.
“Fucking hells,” Will swore, his fist thudding to the table. He tore his eyes away from the polished surface of the table he’d been staring at since he’d sat down. “How did we not have intel on this? We could have sent troops to assist!”
Lena’s gaze narrowed. “No one thought this was possible. No one was prepared for Kakos to have forces to accomplish this. Besides, our best sources in the Midlands went dark weeks ago. Thanks be to Saudra, I even have news to share after the attack.”
That wasn’t surprising though, Aya thought bitterly. News of death and destruction passed easily. Especially in times of war.
Kakos would have made sure of it.
“We need information.” Aya’s voice was like gravel. “We can’t win a war without it,” she continued, clearing her throat. “We need to know Kakos’s next move. We need to know how they had the ability to do something on this scale.”
Clearly, Dominic’s support of Kakos had made a difference. And clearly, the missing weapons supplier had traded with them before.
“Attacking Sitya is a strategic decision,” Tova mused, her brow narrowed. She was careful to keep her gaze averted from Aya, her fists clenched tightly on the wooden table. “They could’ve marched inland, but instead, they took the port, just as Queen Nyra feared. They have more ships now. And ammunition.”
“Which means,” Will filled in, with a weariness that Aya was sure only she could detect, “they got exactly what they were missing.”
“Yes.” Tova gritted out her agreement, the malice in her voice like a knife. It went unnoticed by their gathering, however, thanks to the general tension rippling through the room. “With ships, they could go anywhere,” Tova finished, her gaze fixed on the queen.
“If their strategy is to continue to build their fleet, then they’d head to Milsaio next,” Aya muttered. The kingdom was made up of a string of four islands. It sat between the continent and Trahir, surrounded by nothing but endless stretches of sea.
“We should send some of our forces to aid them, then,” Tova said, her response still directed toward Gianna.
“It’s not enough for us to go on guesswork,” Aya interjected. Her friend finally met her gaze, her hazel eyes glinting with anger. But Aya could do nothing to fix that—not now. She turned to where Gianna sat at the head of the table, her heart-shaped lips pressed into a thin line. “We need real intel. Let me help.”
“No,” Gianna answered immediately. “You have responsibilities here.”
Aya’s teeth ground together. “With all due respect, my responsibilities will not matter if we continue to operate on hypotheticals alone.”
She didn’t need the cut of Will’s gaze to know her frustration was uncharacteristically close to the surface. But the thought of sitting in a temple while people were dying, while Kakos grew stronger…
Gianna leaned forward, her brown eyes flashing. “And information will not matter if our saint is not prepared once war arrives here.”
There was a note of finality in her voice that had Aya swallowing any retort. She forced herself to relax back against her chair, giving her queen a shallow nod as Gianna continued. “Tova, I want a roster detailing the unit we can send to Milsaio immediately to shore up their defenses. I will send word to King Sarhash. Lena, I want you doing everything you can to make contact with our marks in the Midlands.”
And with that, the queen let out a sigh as she stood, the rest of them following suit. “I want regular updates,” she commanded, her gaze falling once more on Aya. “From all of you.”
***
There was a moment of stillness as Gianna left the room, no more than a pause between an inhale and an exhale. But then Tova shoved her chair out of the way, the wooden legs scraping against the stone floor, and stormed out of the door, and everything flew into motion.
Aya looked to Will to find him watching her.
They needed to finish their conversation. There was still so much she wanted, no, needed to say to him, but…
He jerked his chin toward the door.
She hesitated for a breath, long enough to try to untangle the look in his eyes.
“Go,” he said quietly.
So she did.
Aya was out the door in an instant, not bothering to keep a steady pace as she tore down the hall after her friend.
“Tova!”
Tova didn’t bother to turn around as she crossed through the entrance hall, her long stride quick. She shoved open the door, each rough movement marked with anger.
Foolish. Aya and Will had been foolish to have that discussion in the training room where anyone could have overheard them. Aya tore across the entrance hall and shouldered the door open, the fresh air sharp in her lungs as she followed Tova toward the forest.
She closed the distance between them, her hand reaching for Tova’s elbow.
“Tova—”
“Don’t,” Tova ordered, ripping her arm out of Aya’s hold. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath coming in uneven pants as she glared at Aya. “Don’t even bother with whatever fucking lie you’ve prepared on your way over here. You’ve told me enough of them to last us both a lifetime.”
Aya shook her head, her hands raised in supplication. “Please, listen to me.”
“Were you even going to tell me?” Tova snapped, stepping forward. “Or were you going to keep lying until everyone found out you’re fucking Gianna’s leftovers?”
Anger pulsed down Aya’s spine as she let her hands fall. She might be the cold one of the two of them, the bitter one. But Tova could still spew fire.
“Don’t,” Aya murmured. “Please.”
Tova laughed, the sound harsh and so unlike the bright cackle Aya was used to hearing from her friend. “What’s wrong, Aya? Ashamed of where’s he been? I wouldn’t want to be connected to the queen’s whore either.”
Aya forced a breath through her nose, forced herself to feel and release that anger, her clenched fists splaying flat by her sides. “I didn’t want him to be another weapon to be used against me. Like you. Like Pa.” She stepped forward, her gaze fixed on her friend. “Everyone I care about ends up in harm’s way.”
Tova’s jaw shifted, and Aya swore fire sparked in her irises as she snarled, “And your precious lover has done his fair share of harming, hasn’t he? Or did you forget that he was the fucking reason I was tortured?”
And though her voice was low, a mere growl, Aya could hear the blistering rage in it.
“If you want to blame someone for that, blame me,” Aya urged. “I’m as much at fault as Will is.”
“Clearly,” Tova spat out, and she might as well have hit Aya with the way the word rocked her. But that anger sparked in her again, and this time, Aya let a little of it seep into her tone.
“Where’s your shared fury for our queen, Tova? She was the one who ordered you tortured not once, but twice, wasn’t she?”
The words were eerily close to the ones Will had snarled at her in Trahir, before she had known the truth about Gianna. But Tova just glared at her.
“Last I checked, she wasn’t the one lying to me,” Tova retorted. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. After all, I spent years thinking the sea was responsible for your mother’s death.”
This time, the words did hit like a blow.
Aya stepped back, the air punching from her lungs as she stared at her friend. The one person in the world who had always felt like home.
How did we get here? How did we get here?
She didn’t have a chance to ask. Because Tova was storming away again, her long stride brisk as she stomped through the thick woods. And this time, Aya didn’t follow.
56
Someone was pounding on his door.
Will cracked open an eye, his neck stiff from the way he’d fallen asleep slumped against his headboard, his head still cocked toward the door.
Waiting for her.
He sat up fully, his hands scrubbing his face as that heaviness settled in his gut. He’d hoped Aya would come to him after chasing after Tova. That they would finish whatever they’d started in the training room.
