Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(31)

Alfie followed Luka out of the banquet hall and into the hallway. As soon as the doors shut behind them, Luka let out a growl of anger and ran a hand through his dark hair.

“I know you’re angry—” Alfie began, but Luka silenced him with a furious look.

“Yes!” he said, nearly shouting. Alfie was thankful that the walls were soundproof. “I know that you know! And I know that you keep pretending that everything’s going to be fine now that you’re back, even as you’re sneaking out of the palace, risking your life on a fool’s errand! And you have the gall to think things can just be nice again? You left, Alfie. Three months and not a single maldito letter!”

Alfie swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. “I know. And I’m sorry. I needed time. Please just listen—”

“No,” Luka hissed, closing the space between them, his eyes glassy. “No, you listen. You left me here! You left me here to look at his empty place at the table, alone!”

Alfie felt a pang in his chest as Luka wrung his hands in frustration. He’d left because he couldn’t take seeing the places where Dez once stood, where he should still be standing, but he hadn’t even thought of what his leaving would mean for Luka. He’d thought of no one but himself.

Alfie’s shadow stretched forward toward Luka, but Luka only stepped away. “Luka, I’m stopping now, I promise. It’s over, all of it.” He was telling the truth. He’d promised himself he would stop should those Englassen books lead him nowhere, and not a one of those books had anything to offer to save Dez.

Luka stared at him, his unfocused eyes narrowing. “I’m not a fool. I don’t believe you. Why is it that when you choose to be reckless you decide to do something that will get you killed? Why can’t you just drink and sleep around like every other rebellious royal?”

Alfie’s hands curled into fists. “I handled my grief in my own maldito way, Luka. Not everyone is you.”

“Not everyone is next in line to be king, Alfie,” Luka shot back.

“Why does everything have to come down to that?” Alfie said, feeling the walls closing in on him. He knew he would have to be king, but the reality of it still weighed too heavily on him, like an anchor dragging him down into unfathomable depths.

“Because it’s important! And this is foolish. Dez is gone. You can’t bring him back. And the worst thing is you seem to think you’re the only one here who lost a brother,” he seethed. “Dez was mine too. And you made it feel as if one brother was taken and the other left!”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care about what you meant,” Luka snapped. “And maybe you’ve forgotten, but you were important to Dez. Your maldito life was important to him! This kingdom, this family’s legacy, was important to him too. He wouldn’t want you to get yourself killed and throw it all away. And I won’t watch you do it.”

Alfie’s face burned with shame as Luka stormed off without giving him a second glance. He was far too drunk to believe him now. If he needed space, he would give him that. He owed him that much. But the flush in Luka’s face and the subtle sway in his steps told Alfie that all the sangria he’d had was hitting him.

“Please just go to your room and sleep it off,” Alfie said. “We can talk tomorrow.”

Luka waved a hand dismissively over his head without turning around and disappeared around a corner. Alfie wanted to follow, but his mother would have his head if he left the party. If he was to be king, he needed to make an impression at these events. That was what Luka wanted him to do, wasn’t it? Commit to his royal duties? Still, he longed to go after him.

Alfie shook away that urge. He walked to the double doors to the ballroom, pasted a smile on his face, and went back in.





10


The Vault


Finn counted to one hundred before she rolled out from under the bed, righted the secret compartment in the drawer, and hesitantly stepped back into the passage.

What had just happened?

She thought of the sound of the bottle being shaken and the girl weeping. It felt wrong. Poisoning took malice, and Finn could hear only regret in the girl’s cries. Beneath her gnawing curiosity flashed a question—did the prince deserve to die? She peeked into the slat again and saw the neck of the bottle on the prince’s bedside drawers. For a moment she considered dumping it out. Then she snorted. What did she possibly owe a prince? She was here to rob him, not save him.

What kind of person are you if you just sit back and let someone get killed? she thought.

Finn pressed her forehead to the stone wall. Letting someone get poisoned certainly wasn’t the worst thing she’d done. What was the point of turning back now?

That thought sat in her stomach like a stone.

You are exactly what I’ve always said you are, Mija. A monster.

Ignacio’s voice rang in her head like a gong. Her fingers itched to dump out the bottle, to prove that voice wrong. But what did one good deed matter? It was foolish of her to even think that one good thing would save her from all the bad. This wasn’t some children’s story.

She was who she was.

For a moment she sank into that memory once more, the memory of the first time she’d taken a life. She could see the girl bleeding out beneath her, could feel something dark and crooked take root inside of her. Her palms were sweating, her breaths ragged and uneven.