Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(24)

While the stew had been cooking, Rocinda had given me a black cloak from her knapsack, and I pulled it a little tighter around my body. The weather had been surprisingly mild over the past few days, but the temperature was steadily dropping, indicating that it was going to snow. Despite the danger, it was a good thing I had run into Rocinda and Caxton. Without their food, cloak, and fire, I probably would have frozen to death tonight.

Rocinda packed up the leftover food, while Caxton pulled out a knife and started trimming his fingernails with the sharp blade. Neither one of them was wearing a sword, but they both seemed to have plenty of long knives tucked away in their cloaks.

I subtly patted the side of my dress, feeling a hard lump beneath the fabric. They weren’t the only ones with a blade hidden in their pocket.

Rocinda finished her work, then gave me another fake, toothy smile. “I think it’s time that we got some sleep.”

“But what about my parents?” I asked, as though they really did exist. “Shouldn’t we start looking for them? They must be so worried.”

Rocinda and Caxton exchanged another inscrutable look.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But it’s far too dark. We’ll look for them first thing in the morning, though. I promise.”

Once again, I could smell the smoky lie of her words, but I crumpled my face, as though I were deeply upset at being separated from my parents. She reached over and squeezed my hand, trying to soothe me.

I felt her fire magic the second her skin touched mine.

Rocinda had used her magic to light the campfire earlier, but she was far stronger than I’d realized. I would have to be very careful how I played my long game. Otherwise, I wouldn’t survive the night, much less escape from her and Caxton.

“It’s okay,” I said in a small, sad voice. “I understand. You don’t want to get lost in the woods too.”

“Exactly!” she replied. “Now, why don’t you go to sleep? Everything will seem much better in the morning.”

I lay down by the fire and let her cover me with a blanket, although the stench of her magic clung to it—along with more than a little coppery blood. Somehow, I held back a shudder of revulsion and wished Rocinda and Caxton a cheery good night. Then I rolled over, so that my back was to them and the fire.

I shifted around for a few moments, as though I were trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. After an appropriate amount of time, I settled down, then slowly let my breathing become deep, steady, and even, as though I were sliding toward sleep, although I kept my eyes cracked open. The first chance I got, I was going to slip into the trees and get as far away from my supposed new friends as possible.

Twenty minutes passed, maybe thirty, before Rocinda and Caxton began speaking in low voices. They must have thought I really was asleep.

“I can’t believe our luck,” Caxton murmured. “I thought we’d be out here for another two weeks searching for Winterwind survivors. But to have one of them just fall into our lap? It’s the best luck we’ve had in a long, long time.”

“Not just a survivor,” Rocinda said. “That girl is a Blair. Didn’t you notice her eyes? They’re gray-blue, just like all the other Blairs I’ve seen. The DiLucris won’t believe it when we drag her in front of them. We’ll get top dollar for her from the Mint.”

“Fuck the Mint,” Caxton said. “We should sell her ourselves. I bet the king would give us a sack of gold crowns for a live Blair to use in his experiments . . .”

King? Which king? And what kind of experiments?

Instead of answering my silent questions, the two of them kept murmuring about all the awful people they wanted to sell me to, like I was a fat wheel of cheese they were hauling to a marketplace.

At first I was stunned, then sick, then afraid. But the longer they talked, the more my turbulent emotions crystallized into rage—this cold, cold rage that iced over my heart and hardened my resolve. These people weren’t kidnapping and selling me. Not as long as I still had breath to fight them.

While Rocinda and Caxton continued their talk of riches, I kept my breathing steady and even, pretending that I was still asleep. Slowly, very, very slowly, I slid my hand into my right dress pocket. I still had the dagger my mother had given to me at Winterwind, the one I had used to kill the Mortan weather magier.

With my weapon in hand, all I had to do now was wait for the right moment to escape . . .





Something heavy fell across my chest, startling me awake.

For a moment, I thought I was back in the woods that horrible night, and Rocinda and Caxton had discovered that I was awake and were coming to hurt me. Then a soft murmur sounded, the scent of vanilla mixed with spice filled my nose, and a warm, strong body shifted on the bed next to me.

I exhaled. Sullivan was sleeping beside me, and we were both safe in my chambers at Seven Spire.

I lay there for several minutes until my heart quit racing, my breathing evened out, and the sweat cooled on my body. But try as I might, I couldn’t quite shove my memories away, close my eyes, and go back to sleep. Eventually, I rolled over and glanced at a clock on the nightstand. Almost midnight.

If I hurried, I could still make my rendezvous.

Despite my awful nightmare, I was warm and comfortable next to Sullivan, and I debated whether to leave him. But I wasn’t drifting off to dreamland again anytime soon, so I slipped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and grabbed my sword and dagger.