Page 74 of Sharpest Court

“I always am.”

“Hmm.” Stian gave him a stern look. “Mind him, won’t you, Lady Alissa? Our young man tends to prioritize every life but his own.”

“I will,” I said, trying to dissect the lovingly paternal look he aimed toward Keil.

Stian turned, then paused beside my muffins. The muffins that tasted so much like Verenian lemon cakes. “Forgive me.” He nabbed one and gave me a confiding, mischievous smile. “My only vice.”

The moment he journeyed out of earshot, I turned to Keil.

“You trust him,” I said. “Even though he works closely with Arun.”

Keil perched on the low table opposite me and leaned forward. “Winker accepted the position as Imperial Healer because he believed he could do good with it.” He smiled softly. “Have you never trusted a person despite their more unpalatable associations?”

I looked away, pained as I thought of Father; to protect me, he’d formed an allegiance with the Hunters themselves. Then my gaze caught on a small, gold paper box Keil was withdrawing from his pocket, and I frowned in question.

“Rheya sent it,” he said, newly hesitant. “She thinks you’ll earn more favor with General Holden by adhering to Banarrati customs. And when couples are separated on Banarrat, they declare their commitment to one another by preserving intimate touch for their partners.”

I swallowed thickly as he opened the box to reveal a short white lace glove.

Logically, this would be no different from when I’d worn gloves to avoid accidentally touching dullroot during Rose Season. But the reason for wearing this glove felt infinitely more disturbing—having to reserve my touch for Erik, to publicly declare my skin as belonging to him alone.

“You don’t have to wear it,” Keil said, his gaze dark. Clearly, he didn’t want me to wear this glove any more than I wanted to.

But although I was making progress with my power, I wasn’t yet Wielding in tendrils thin enough to twirl my mother’s coin—a secret goal I’d set for myself. And although I’d navigated a dangerous court before, I would now be doing so in an unfamiliar setting, with people whose weak spots I had yet to discover.

The truth was, I felt unbearably anxious knowing that the next three days could mark the tipping point of Erik’s defeat.

Yet I knew one thing: Court, in any territory, revolved around how a person was perceived. No matter how many wounds I carried, I couldn’t reveal them to vultures.

So I said, “I’ll wear it.” Then, like an actress rehearsing a final time before ascending the stage, I declared with all the confidence I didn’t possess, “I’m ready.”

20

If my last sea voyage hadn’t been riddled with fever and withdrawal, I imagined it would have resembled this afternoon’s journey to Banarrat: sunlight glinting on the water, wind gusting across my cheeks, the skin around my knuckles threatening to crack in the sea-salted air. The main difference, I suspected, was the noise.

While the ocean had provided a background roar to my previous expedition, today that sound was drowned out by Lye, twirling around the mast and belting a sea shanty at the top of his lungs.

“He bathed in blood and battle mud

Of every weapon drawn,

Disgracing foes, the story goes,

From moonlight till the dawn.

“By end of night such was his might

That after all were slain

The poisoned tip of Wholeborns’ whip

Ne’er even caused him pain.”

Keil groaned from the other side of the deck. “Ten gold coins to anyone who throws him into the ocean.”

Goren pushed off the railing and cracked his knuckles. “I would’ve done it for free.”

Lye cursed and darted behind me. He gripped my shoulders and angled me like a shield, nearly knocking me off my barrel.