Reign of the Fallen (Reign of the Fallen #1)(84)
I shake my head. “There’s no way.” Of course, I would have said the same thing about Hadrien just two days ago. “But be careful. Vaia knows I’m no great judge of character.”
After a pause, Meredy says, “And assuming I can trust her?”
“Get her and the others out of the city, if they’re willing,” I murmur, wrapping Vane’s blood-crusted cloak around my shoulders and pulling up the hood. “Otherwise, make them hide somewhere for now. You and Lysander must join them.” I check that my cloak is concealing my sword completely. “Hadrien’s only one man, even if he’s a mad one, so I need to do this alone. Besides, I’ve got the perfect disguise.”
Meredy’s eyes widen as I put on Vane’s silver mask. I’m sure I look like a nightmare. A nightmare who can barely see out of these tiny eye holes.
“I’ll warn them, but then I’m coming right back for you,” she says softly. “And before you try to argue, I’ll save you the trouble. You won’t change my mind. Now tell me what you’re going to do in that awful costume.”
It takes me a moment to form the words. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but then, I can’t see another way. I just know I’ve got to stop whatever’s happening up on that hill.
“Kill Hadrien,” I answer as I dismount from my horse.
“Odessa.” Meredy slides off her horse’s back and moves to my side, putting a hand on my arm. She doesn’t tell me to be careful. She doesn’t need to. The plea is there in her eyes, along with something else I can’t name.
“You’re nothing like I expected,” I murmur from beneath the mask. It’s already too warm against my skin. “You’re nothing like, well, him. Evander.”
Meredy purses her lips. Her expression is harder to read than ever as she pulls the mask from my face, running a finger along my jaw. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” I insist, my mouth suddenly dry. “What I meant is, I’m scared. More scared than I’ve ever been. But . . .” But with her fingertips lingering on my cheek, even though I know what’s waiting on that hill, I feel ready to fight.
“That makes two of us.” She drops her hand to my shoulder. “You unsettle me.”
“Me? Not the madman on the hill?” That earns a shaky smile from her.
In one swift motion, she closes the space between us and kisses me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and I melt into it, parting her lips with my tongue. Her hands grip my waist, pulling me closer, and I slide my fingers through her silky hair. Maybe it’s too soon, but it doesn’t feel that way anymore, not when she’s so gentle and sure. She tastes of salt and a hint of strawberries, and I hunger for more. The way she muddles my thoughts with a single brush of her lips, making the whole mad world disappear and every part of me achingly, perfectly, wonderfully alive, is all the encouragement I need to survive.
Up on the palace hill, a nervous murmur rises from the crowd, loud enough to startle us apart. Meredy puts a hand to her lips, and I shiver as I realize we’re doing the thing I swore I wouldn’t do. Betraying Evander.
“This was a mistake,” Meredy stammers as I slip my mask back on. “Evander. Firiel . . .”
“Agreed,” I choke out, to stop her from saying more. Hearing the other girl’s name on Meredy’s lips stings, when it never has before. “It’s already forgotten.”
I don’t want the last thing I ever see to be her guilt-stricken face. I don’t want to wonder whether this would have happened if she’d come home when Evander was still alive.
Heart thumping like crazy, I hurry toward the crowd on the hill and force myself not to look back.
XXVIII
As I weave through the sea of Karthians on the hill, jabbed by a hundred elbows and coughed on by at least three people who probably have the black fever, I try not to think about that kiss.
About the way she pulled off my mask. About the way she tasted. About her startled, “This was a mistake,” as she thought of Evander, or Firiel, or both. She’s right, of course, but she’s the one who started it.
It was only a kiss. A really good kiss, but still. It didn’t have to mean anything.
By the time I break free of the crowd, I’m sweating under the bloodstained cloak. Thankfully it’s a blue so dark that the stains aren’t obvious, but I’m painfully aware of where each patch of dried blood on the cloth brushes against me.
“What kept you, Vane?” Hadrien asks, sounding far more irritable than I’ve ever heard him. He’s paced a circle around the cage, worn his boot prints into the ground in his agitation. “I was starting to think something happened to you, and I was about to move forward without your particular brand of help.” He scowls. “I hate being kept waiting.”
I move to his side, not saying a word, tucking my shaking hands into the folds of the cloak. He seems to be awaiting some sort of explanation, but if I make a single sound, my disguise is ruined.
“Never mind.” Hadrien sighs. He takes a deep breath and seems to brighten. “You’re here now. Let’s get started!” He claps his hands together, his brown eyes shining with manic glee as he spins to face the crowd.
I touch the hilt of Meredy’s borrowed dagger in a sheath on my belt. A faint ringing echoes in my ears as I realize how much I’m dreading this. Dreading the murder of this killer, a man whose darkness was buried so deep beneath a mask of sunshine, I could’ve kissed him and never tasted a hint of shadow. I start trying to pull out the dagger, a difficult task while keeping it hidden beneath my cloak, when a familiar face catches my eye.