State of Sorrow (Sorrow #1)(101)

“Her name was Dain. Dain Waters,” Sorrow said. She remembered Dain’s kind eyes, her soft voice. Her hopes. He didn’t have to kill her. He could have left her. A small spark of anger lit in Sorrow then.

“Miss Waters will be accorded every respect,” Caspar said. “I’ll come back myself when the carriage is ready.”

Sorrow nodded, lowering her head. Dain had died because of Sorrow. And Sorrow had liked her, despite her being from the Decorum Ward. She’d liked learning that Dain loved to read, that the taste of sugar made her eyes sparkle. That she was more than a brute. Sorrow had liked being wrong about her.

“We need to write to her mother. We’ll tell her mother she can be proud of her,” Irris said, patting Sorrow’s hand.

Sorrow’s head snapped up, her eyes on Luvian. Now she remembered what the man had said.

Mother would be proud.

Luvian shook his head, his eyes pleading, begging with her not to say anything.

“Miss Ventaxis?” Caspar said.

Sorrow tore her gaze away from Luvian and made a decision, praying it was the right one. Praying she was wrong. She didn’t think she could stand to lose anything else that day.

“Forgive me,” she said to the prince consort. “What did you say?”

“I’ll leave guards outside for you,” Caspar repeated, his eyes kind.

“I appreciate it.”

“I’ll go and tell my father we’re leaving,” Irris said to Sorrow. “Then I’ll come straight back. Will you be all right?” Sorrow nodded.

Irris gave her hands one final squeeze as she followed the Rhyllians from the room.

She listened to their footsteps receding as she finished the last of her drink, borrowing strength from it. Though she didn’t think Luvian would hurt her himself – he had saved her, and had ample opportunity to hurt her if he’d wanted to – she was glad to know there were guards within shouting distance if she needed them. She hoped she wouldn’t. She hoped she was wrong.

Luvian barely waited for the door at the end of the corridor to close before he said, “Sorrow…”

“You know him, don’t you? That Son of Rhannon. You know each other.”

The fact he didn’t immediately deny it damned him.

“He said, ‘Mother would be proud’. Your mother.”

“It’s not what you think… It’s not my life any more. I left it…” Luvian held up his hands.

“What life? Who are you? We looked you up. We investigated you and we found nothing.”

“Sorrow, please trust me—”

“No! Stars, I wish people would stop saying that to me. Tell me who you are.”

“I can’t.”

“Then tell me who he is. Tell me how you know the Sons of Rhannon.”

“Sorrow, I can’t. I’m begging you to trust me.”

Sorrow looked at him. She had trusted him. With everything. Trusted him as much as she’d ever trusted Irris, and Rasmus, and Charon. And look where that had got her. Charon had lied to her for her whole life. She’d lied to herself about Rasmus, and she was lying to Irris now. It was all lies and all secrets and she’d had enough.

“Dain is dead,” Sorrow said. “And you know who killed her. You’re protecting them, working with them, for all I know.”

“I’m not—”

“Shut up, Luvian. You’re hiding the person who has now tried, at least four times, to kill me. One of the Sons of Rhannon. So, I’m asking you for the last time, who is it?”

Luvian shook his head, his mouth moving silently for a moment before he looked at her with large, pleading eyes.

“Fine. But remember, I gave you a chance to come clean. I gave you that chance and you refused it.”

“Sorrow, don’t…”

“Help!” she screamed. “Help me!”

Luvian turned, and ran.

The guards burst into the room a moment later, swords in their hands.

“What is it?”

“Didn’t you stop him?” She stared at them.

“Who? Mr Fen?”

Sorrow covered her face with her hands.

“He told us to get to you,” one of the men said. “We assumed he was going to fetch aid.”

“He knows the man who attacked me,” Sorrow said.

Without saying a word, one of the guards sprinted from the room, the other remaining with Sorrow.

She wasn’t surprised when a body of guards returned, their leader telling her Luvian hadn’t been found.


The journey back to Rhannon was long, but Charon wouldn’t allow them to stop for longer than it took to change horses and use the bathroom.

“I want you where you’re safe,” he said. “Until Fen is caught, and we know who he is and what his connection is to the Sons of Rhannon.”

She couldn’t bring herself to argue, couldn’t bring herself to do anything but slump in the corner of the carriage, pretending to sleep, all the while going over what had happened. She’d lost it all, she realized. Rasmus, Luvian. The possibility of a brother. Herself. As they moved through the North Marches she sat up, staring at every face they passed, looking for herself.

From the expression on Charon’s face he knew what she was doing, and it wounded him, but Sorrow couldn’t let that stop her. They headed to the port district of the East Marches, the seat of Arran Day, Charon’s son and Irris’s brother. They were to stay in the Days’ ancestral home until the election.