Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(78)

“… filthy!” she’s saying now to Skiro. “Just filthy. Have you seen my halls after three thousand people tracked through them? And they brought livestock with them. Livestock, Skiro! Feathers and wool cling to everything! Poor Algarow has been sneezing up and down the halls. I never wanted to rule anything, and now you’ve just doubled the size of my city in one day!”

Petrik coughs, drawing the argument to an abrupt halt.

I nearly freeze in place when Marossa turns her icy stare on me. “This is them?” she asks as she sizes up me and Kellyn.

“Yes,” Skiro says. “This is Ziva and Kellyn, whom Ravis held captive. They gleaned extensive knowledge about his plans and brought me warning.” I notice right away that Skiro doesn’t reveal my abilities, for which I’m grateful.

“Skiro, I don’t need another person to tell me war is coming. I believe you! You brought it to my bloody doorstep! What I need is someone with answers. How do we stop Ravis and his men? How do we protect the people?”

“Actually, Ravis is dead.” The words are blunt, sharp. But I say them before I think about softening the blow.

“What?” both royals ask simultaneously. Their gazes turn back to me. I shift uncomfortably, and Kellyn takes over for me.

“We saw his body. Warlord Kymora killed him. They’ve been working together this whole time to take over Ghadra. But Kymora said she didn’t need him anymore. She doesn’t want to be reinstated as a general. She wants the crown for herself.”

Petrik is the first to respond. “Tell us every word you overheard. What exactly happened?”

Kellyn shares the whole story, and I sway on my feet. I’m exhausted, and my hands itch from the crusting blood. When he’s done, Marossa rolls her lips between her teeth, closing her eyes.

“Now the warlord is coming for us?” Skiro says carefully, as though if he speaks the words any louder, Kymora will appear then and there.

Kellyn nods. What he says is absolutely true, but what he didn’t specifically mention is that she’s coming for me.

Again.

“Algarow!” Marossa calls. “Bring me my bow. I want to shoot something.”

“It’s on your back, Highness.”

“Arrows, then! And targets. No, take me to the stuffed rooms. I’ll shoot some of the heads!”

The princess storms from the room, her attendants following behind her.

Prince Skiro closes his eyes, presses a finger to the bottom of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Petrik says slowly. “He may have attacked you, but he was still our brother. I never knew him well, but I’m sure you loved him. Despite him.”

After a few beats of silence, Skiro says, “It has been a long day. I imagine we all would like to get cleaned and in bed. Please see to it.” The last bit he says to the attendants along the walls.



* * *



I stay in the bath for hours, long after the water turns cold, just trying to feel clean.

Thoughts of blood and death and screams and crushed skulls play on repeat in my head. Everything that happened, everything I did—I can’t seem to quiet it. To stop it. My fixating mind has new horrors to contemplate after today, and I feel out of control.

I leave the room immediately after dressing and pause outside my door. Temra’s rooms are on the right, Kellyn’s on the left.

I knock on the right door.

No one answers, so I peek inside. The bed is empty, still made. But I hear voices one door down, and it takes me far too long to realize she’s in Petrik’s room.

At first, I don’t know how to feel about that. But I can hear their voices. They’re just talking, Ziva. And even if they weren’t …

Ick, I don’t want to think about it.

So then I have another choice to make.

Go back to my room alone or …

I knock on the fourth door.

I wasn’t nervous until now, when I’m waiting for him to answer.

What if he’s sleeping and you just woke him up?

What if he’s still in the bath and he answers in a robe?

What if—

The door opens partially, and his red hair comes into focus.

“Ziva,” he says, his tone one of surprise. Like I was the last person he expected to see outside his door.

“Kellyn,” I answer.

And then silence.

I came to him. I’m supposed to say something. What did I want? Why did I knock on his door?

“Do you—do you want to come in?” he asks. He stumbles over the words. I have never heard him stumble before.

“Yes,” I answer.

He steps aside. I find a room identical to mine. Though at the sight of his tub, I wonder how he managed to fit in the thing. I barely fit into mine.

There’s a chair and a desk and a bed. Nothing else. Marossa has not cultivated the same style of opulence that Skiro has.

For some reason I can’t look at the bed directly.

More silence ensues as Kellyn watches me take in the room. He’s dressed in a similar nightrobe to mine, though he has the strings at the neck loosely undone.

“Temra is in Petrik’s room,” I blurt as soon as my mind snags on something to say.

“Is she?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Why do I do this to myself? I think I can be brave and do hard things, and then I throw myself into these mortifying situations that make me wish I were dead.