Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(98)

“You thought I’d need you,” I say quietly, my heart aching. “I’m glad you were here.” The confession takes everything I have. He left me, I remind myself, but suddenly that doesn’t matter anymore, because when I needed him, he chose me over his power. Right now, that is all that matters.

Blaise takes my hand in his and squeezes it tightly, his skin burning hot against mine. “Even without the gems, there’s still a chance I could lose control. If I start to, even a bit, Artemisia agreed to kill me before I could hurt anyone,” he says.

“That was kind of her,” I say, looking to where our hands are joined, fingers entwined. The pads of his fingers are rough and callused, but they are a comfort all the same. I never want to let him go.

He takes a deep breath and I worry he’s going to talk about Hoa. I don’t want him to. I can’t talk about her yet or I know I’ll fall to pieces. As always, though, Blaise seems to know my mind as well as I do.

“Dragonsbane tried to come earlier; she said she wanted to ensure your safety, but I told her you were safe with us,” he says.

I let out a mirthless laugh. “I’m sure she took that well,” I say. “She had a deal with Etristo, you know. It’s why he’s helping us—in exchange for Water Gems.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then lets out a long exhale. “I wish I could pretend I were more surprised.”

“I thought her capable of an awful lot before,” I say. “But this is somehow worse. Ampelio was right—her help comes at too high a cost, Blaise. I don’t want it anymore.”

I expect him to argue with me, to remind me that we need her and her fleet, that we wouldn’t have gotten this far without her help, no matter how many strings were attached. Instead, he surprises me by nodding.

“Then cut ties,” he says. “You have the Gorakians and the Vecturians and the refugees. Dragonsbane’s help isn’t enough to tip the scales one way or another. This plan will live or die on its own either way.”

I swallow. “We’ll talk about it with the others tomorrow. We shouldn’t make plans without them. It’s Art’s mother, after all,” I say before taking a deep breath and asking the questions I’ve been dreading learning the answer to. “What happened? How did Hoa…” But I can’t finish. My voice breaks over her name.

Blaise looks away, understanding well enough. “As far as we’ve been able to surmise, the grapes were meant for Erik, but after he left, Hoa moved into his rooms and…” He trails off, and I’m glad he doesn’t finish the sentence.

“The Kaiser is killing suitors,” I say. “I was never the target.”

“Why, though?” he asks, frowning. “That doesn’t make any sense. The Kalovaxian sailors were very clear—the Kaiser wanted you dead or alive. He has nothing to gain from attacking them instead.”

I shake my head, which screams in protest. “Because he may want me dead, but he wants me alive more. You remember the discrepancy in the rewards. He wants me suffering. He wants to be the person behind it, even if he isn’t holding the whip himself.”

Blaise nods slowly. “I’m sorry, Theo,” he says after a moment.

The words are a stab to my gut, and again I see Hoa in my mind as I last did, lifeless and empty.

“How am I supposed to tell Erik?” I ask after a moment, my voice cracking. “He’d just gotten her back and I…He told me to take care of her and I couldn’t even do it for a few hours.”

“He won’t blame you,” Blaise says. “There was nothing you could have done. It’s the Kaiser…it’s always the Kaiser.”

“He’s taken all of our mothers, hasn’t he?” I ask him quietly. “Yours, mine, Heron’s. Even S?ren’s. And now Erik’s. Artemisia is the only one of us left who has a mother still.”

“I think he took mine, too, in other ways,” Artemisia says suddenly. I wonder how long she’s been awake—if she heard us discussing her mother a moment ago—but before I can ask, she rolls over to look at me. I let go of Blaise’s hand so I can turn toward her as well, the two of us facing each other like some kind of bewitched mirror. We look nothing alike, but staring into her eyes in the moonlight, I think I see a ghost of a similarity there. We must both have our fathers’ eyes; it’s not a physical similarity but a reflection of something deeper. A fire that I think we must have inherited from our mothers.

“She was different before the siege. Softer, I suppose, though I don’t think she’s ever been soft. Happier. Less hungry all the time. Less angry at everyone who couldn’t satiate her. But then the Kalovaxians captured my brother and me, and I was the only one who managed to come back….I don’t think she ever forgave me for that.”

For a moment I don’t know what to say. Blaise is similarly struck by silence. He concentrates on the duvet beside me, picking at the stitching idly to keep from looking at her. I think he’s worried doing so will open something between them he’d rather keep closed.

“I don’t think she’s angry with you for surviving, Art,” I say. Hard and unyielding as Dragonsbane is, that seems cruel in a way I don’t think she’s capable of.

“No,” she admits. “But I was the one who got us caught—I was the one who was reckless and foolish and it was my fault we ended up in that mine. The least I could have done was get him out, but I didn’t.”