A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(24)

“Fell vale,” says Lia Mara, and I look down.

Gentle man. Far from it. I want to fight something into the ground. There’s a part of me that regrets that they already killed her attacker—for reasons that have nothing to do with interrogation. “I don’t feel very gentle right now,” I say.

She uses my grip on her hand to pull herself to sitting. I should protest, but before I can, she tucks herself into the circle of my arm, her back against my chest, her head nestled under my chin. She draws my arm into her lap, and I hold her tight and sigh.

“See?” she says softly. “Gentle.”

“I should be at your side when you allow an audience with your people,” I say.

She says nothing, and I add, “I would have seen her intent. I would have stopped her before she caused so much damage.”

Lia Mara begins unbuckling my bracer, and I want to resist, but her fingers are light and deft—and I’m generally powerless when there is something she wants. “You cannot know that,” she says.

“I do know that.”

She inhales to protest, and I turn her in my arms so I can face her. My hands are on her waist, and though I’m not rough at all, she winces.

I freeze. “Forgive me. Are you still hurt?”

“Just a bit sore.”

I feed magic into my hands again, then lean in to press my forehead to hers. “Your guards should not have allowed her to draw so close. I do not know if that was through fault or deliberation, but either way, I should be at your side.”

She says nothing, but I feel her hesitation.

“What?” I say.

“There was another woman bickering with a man over land rights. My guards obeyed Nolla Verin’s order before I could say otherwise.”

“This was before you were attacked?”

“Yes.”

“They are not loyal,” I say immediately. “You should choose others.”

“She is my sister. She was to be queen. They are loyal.”

“They should not have followed her order.” I pause. “And she should not have given one.”

Lia Mara says nothing. She loathes discord. I know she wants peace for her people—and for mine in Emberfall. She wants to rule without violence and fear.

I am not sure her people want to be ruled that way.

She leans into me again. Her breath is warm and sweet against the bare skin of my neck.

“What would you have done?” she says quietly.

“I don’t think you want to hear what I would have done.”

My voice is dark, and she cranes her head around to look up at me. “You would not have hacked your way out of it with a sword.”

“No. I would have dismissed the guards. At the very least, I would have demanded they swear an oath right then and there. And I would have dismissed your sister.”

“What? No!”

“Nolla Verin was to be queen—but she is not. There is enough doubt in Syhl Shallow, and for her to undermine you—and for your guards to obey her—I worry this attack will embolden others.”

“She is supporting me.”

“She is weakening you.”

Lia Mara goes very still against me, and for a moment, I’m worried my anger has gotten the best of me. I don’t want us to be at odds.

But then I realize her heart is pounding in her chest. Her fingers are gripped tight to the arm I have wrapped around her. She’s not angry.

She’s afraid.

That steals some of my anger, replacing it with a fierce protectiveness. I brush my lips against her temple. “Fear not,” I say softly, the same words I once spoke to her in Blind Hollow, after a soldier from Emberfall had put a knife to her neck. “No one will touch you again.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN

LIA MARA

By morning, the wall hangings and velvet carpeting have been replaced, leaving my throne room looking exactly the same as it did yesterday, but there is still an acrid scent of old smoke or burned fabric that seems to cling to the air. I don’t want to feel reassured by Grey’s presence at my side today, but I am. Mother never wore a weapon in front of her people, because she said it implied she did not trust them. But Grey is fully armed, and he’s made no secret of it. His expression is locked down and closed off, as distant and cold as I’ve ever seen him. Princess Harper once called him Scary Grey, and she’s right. When he looks like this, he truly is frightening.

Jake is here, too, along the wall with the guards. He should be out on the training fields, or spending time with Noah, or practicing swordplay with Tycho, but instead he’s here, his cool eyes assessing everyone who comes through the doors. He’s far less stoic than Grey, a bit more flippant and irreverent, but he’s grown every bit as dangerous as the sword-wielding prince at my side.

And while I trust them both, it’s clear that my guards don’t. I’ve heard enough whispers in the halls this morning to know that everyone suspects magic as the source of my attack. I suppose it’s easier to think the worst of Grey and his companions than to imagine someone from Syhl Shallow would take action against the throne. The thought makes me shudder. I don’t want to think about my people wanting me dead. I don’t want to think about failing as queen.

Grey said Nolla Verin might be weakening my position, but it’s not her. It’s me.