Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 28.1 - Leavi

In the Auditorium below, officers in military clothes escort Jacin, protesting, out of the room. My heart twists, wondering what's going to happen. After leaving Aster, I went toward Jacin's room only to see an officer leading him away. No book was in his hand then, and it wasn't in his room either. A sinking feeling told me both him and it were in the same place, and I headed back here to watch.

The women at the Table argue for several minutes, and Aster stands still and silent as a granite column, fists clenched at his sides. All the excitement and fear of yesterday have transformed into stony anger. Without hearing a word, with only his stance to go on, I know. He lost.

And it's my fault.

My stomach clenches. If only. If only I had grabbed the book when Jacin came yesterday instead of setting it aside. If only I had turned him away without Illesiarr calling me. If only I'd remembered to finish redacting before I'd gone to bed, if I'd realized it was missing earlier.

If only I'd worked on it in my cold, private bedroom instead of the warm, open, skies-be-blazed living room. How could you be so stupid?

As spectators inside the Auditorium spill out, I leave the window and go downstairs to wait by the door. A single word bounces from mouth to whispering mouth, and my skin goes cold. Execution.

Tomorrow, they're going to kill Jacin for secrets that weren't his.

After the women all trickle away, the doors open again, and Aster stalks out. I follow him, whispering, "What hap—"

His hand flicks. "Thank you for the message. You're dismissed."

I pull back, stung. The hall is all but empty, just the wizard at the Auditorium door.

Aster's cloak sweeps behind him, and he turns out of view.

* * *

My pocket is too light. After hours and hours of imagining Jacin in the Morineause dungeon, I catfoot down the halls of Courtier's Circle. My loud wooden shoes sit under my bed, and the stone floors are cold through the thin feet of my stockings. All the Ladies have retired for the night, and the loudest noise now is the magic murmur of the glow crystals and my bracelet's faint song. Normally I don't mind, but right now, I wish they would shush.

I'd prefer to listen for courtiers.

I've been up here several times now, but never this late, and never when Aster wasn't expecting me. A falsified note rides in my pocket where my notebook used to be, just in case I have to make excuses to anyone, but I'd rather it not come to that.

The servants themselves are handpicked, Illesiarr said. And I don't know right now if Aster would claim he'd picked me.

Beneath the hum of the artefacts' words, women's voices sound mutedly. I glance over my shoulder, fear spiking in my throat. My eyes light on the end of the hall. One stride, two, three—

Just as their door opens behind me, I turn the corner and press myself into the shadows.

"—been to an execution in ages," someone whispers.

"I've never been to one." These girls sound young—but not so young as to believe I should be here.

"Oh, they're perfectly dreadful." Feet away, the two walk past my turn-off, and I hold my breath. "Mother says I have to go, though."

Their voices drift down the intersecting hall, and I peel off the wall and continue to Aster's room. When I reach his door, I tap at it with two fingers, afraid anything louder might wake whoever is across the hall.

No answer. Wincing, I tap again, slightly louder.

The door slowly cracks open, then swings the rest of the way. With a tight, icy frown, he ushers me in and shuts the door. I stare. He never shuts it.

"What are you doing?" he says, voice low, and retreats to his armchair by the tea table.

I follow him over, hovering near the couch. My hands clasp in front of me, suddenly clammy. "I came to beg for your forgiveness." He eyes me, gaze dark and unreadable. "And for Jacin's life."

The look hardens. "It's out of my hands."

"My life wasn't." My voice is quiet and mild, nothing like the raging arguments I used to have with Sean. Because I'm not in the right; maybe I wasn't even back then. But I have nothing to hold over Aster right now other than a plea for the value of a man's life.

Even so, he sits forward with sudden flame. "Jacin lifted his own blade." Icing over again, he relaxes back into his seat. "I couldn't keep it from falling, not then and certainly not now."

"You're the prince, Aster. There has to be something—"

"They don't care to hear my input. The verdict has been cast. His fate is set."

His words are cold metal coated with the thinnest layer of dull paint to mask their level practicality. A breath escapes my lips in sudden understanding. Replace his finery with a lab coat and you could transform him into a system-fearing, smooth-talking scientist. He's the kind of man my mother spent her life weaseling her way into the good graces of and—eventually—manipulating and tossing aside.

My lips press together, and my head turns to keep him from seeing my eyes burn. How childish am I to have thought he would be some story-book prince? He's not some hero, throwing away everything to save a single life. He's just a man, little more than a boy, handling more than he ever wanted to, scared of what might become of him and his people.

He shifts, and the smallest glance reveals him to be facing away as well.

It doesn't matter if you're underground or topside, buried in snow or half a world away, people are the same. Everyone has something to lose. Everyone has causes they don't care enough to fight for. Everyone looks out for them and theirs first. I might as well be in Erreliah.

I shiver, overcome with sudden, chilling conviction. When I turn back to him, my eyes still burn but my sight is clear. "Send me in his place."