Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(129)

I kick my stallion. I have to get there before the council executes him, before Margo tortures him beyond recognition. I have more questions than answers, and only he can give them to me.

I pray I get there in time to save him, my greatest enemy.

My oldest friend.





Chapter 32


I clamp down on chattering teeth as I race across the muddy road that leads back to Sól y Perla.

“Please be alive,” I whisper to the storm that follows me.

When the ground becomes a wooden boardwalk and the rain tapers to a fine mist, I know that I’m close. This weather does nothing to keep the people of this citadela from being out on the streets. A little water doesn’t bother seafaring folk is what Dez would have said. My heart stutters in confusion. How could the boy who led me out of the palace be the man who killed Dez? But then—there’s the memory I stole from the guard. Dez was standing on a ship. Memories can’t be altered. But never in his life had Dez been missing part of his ear. I need answers.

I am afraid that if I stop moving, I will shatter into so many pieces that none of this will matter. Not the Whispers. Not the Robári. Not this never-ending war. Nothing.

I yank the reins and slow to a trot around the back of Duque Aria’s house. I swing off the horse and tie it at a post next to an angled wooden structure meant for storing grain. Under the gray cover of dawn, I ascend the back stairs.

My legs tremble with each step. I remember you. I want to scratch the sound of his voice from the inside of my ears. I want to shake him until answers fall out of him like ripe fruit from the vine. But first, I have to get inside.

I peer into one of the windows, but the curtain is drawn. My heart thuds rapidly as I step inside and keep to the walls. The commotion coming from the study masks the tread of my boots as I reach the stairs. Margo’s voice escalates as Amina tries to explain something to her. I turn to keep following the muddy footprints, but hearing my name makes me stop. The floorboards wheeze under my weight.

“I never agreed to leave her behind,” Sayida says. Her voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it.

“Renata knew the dangers,” Filipa says.

“We can’t risk more lives for her,” Margo adds.

They conspired together, and it is a small relief Sayida was not part of that decision.

Esteban’s voice surprises me the most. “She risked everything to return to us.”

There’s a strong back-and-forth, Margo the loudest. It sounds like a nest of wasps in my ears.

“Maybe,” Margo says, “but we can’t know where her loyalty truly lies. Now that we know the Robári are used to make the weapons, everything has changed. These magics are foreign to us. She’ll be sympathetic to that thing. That current weapon. Ren was already lost to us.”

I think of Margo in the cell with me. Truce. I guess that peace is over now.

“Or you just handed the justice a new Robári to torture,” Sayida snaps.

“I agree with Margo,” Filipa says, and the room quiets at the authority in her voice. “We have the prince. This can be our chance to renegotiate our treaty.”

There’s dead silence from the study until someone clears their throat.

“What of the Ripper?” Amina asks.

“Is that what you’re calling him?” Esteban mutters.

“Cebrían—the Robári—will have to die,” Filipa says.

“No!” Sayida shouts along with two others. I recognize Esteban but not the other. “We would be turning into the justices!”

“I’m sorry, Sayida,” Margo says, softly.

I’ve heard enough.

I make for the stairs, hoping I’m not too late. I can’t be. They would know the value of Prince Castian, of keeping him alive. And anyway, the prince I’ve met would have fought back.

Pathetic, a voice tells me, and the voice sounds surprisingly like Dez. The prince you’ve met? You’re defending him already.

I push open the first door, but the room is empty, the furniture covered in white linen. I move on to the second room and find a group of the fledgling Moria sleeping. I leave the door as is, so it doesn’t creak and wake them. There’s only one door left, and I know I have to be prepared for what I see.

Come, Nati. We don’t have much time. Don’t you trust me? he’d said.

We were just kids. Both so scared. And yet he saved my life that day—he set me free.

A well of strange emotion hits me. Loss for the boy I knew. Anger for the man he became.

As the door swings open, and I step inside, I am faced with both of those feelings.

Castian is bound and gagged in an armchair, his hair matted to his temples with sweat and blood. Still wearing the clothes from the Sun Festival. He makes a guttural sound when he sees me, his eyes darting to his legs. His legs? The boot!

I pull up the hem of his pant leg and feel for the blade sheathed there. He leans back, exposing his throat with relief. He’s relieved to see me and that makes all of this so much worse.

“Thank the Lady they were too sleep deprived to search you, eh?” I press the edge of the blade against his throat and stare into Castian’s eyes. I see him now. The boy in the study who whispered with me in secret, cupping his hands around the set of dice.

There and then gone.