KINGSLAYER

♕ 6 | 8 ♕

"And what about it?"

Having narrowed her search to two, she pointed. "Which of these should I wear?" From what Alexander could tell, the left one was slimmer and had more detailed embroidery, but the one on the right was a strange shade of blue and the cloth on the built-in cape flowed over itself nicely.

"None of them. Let's go."

She squinted at the left one. "I believe this one may show too much cleavage."

"Is there such a thing?"

Though Alexander expected her to wrinkle her nose and chide him, she only tried to hide an amused look. He, on the other hand, was stunned. She was being far, far too pleasant.

Signaling the shop-keeper, Jaylah said, "I will take this dress for a fitting."

"Alright," the young Oceanic woman said, appearing relieved. She gestured for Jaylah to follow her to the privacy of the back. Left on his own, Alexander glowered.

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When they were done traveling north for the day, they stopped in the nearest inn and began their nightly routine of eating supper, then getting to reading lessons. Jaylah had him continue to read from the history books Lorenzo Çenturion lent her, in addition to any newspaper clippings she could get her hands on.

Alexander was by no means a confident reader, nor a fast one. To his displeasure, he found himself still stumbling over words with certain similar letters. Nothing made him feel stupider then those too-long moments before Jaylah stepped in to aid him.

"When compared to how little knowledge you began with, your progress has been more than adequate," she said after he tripped over an entire paragraph in succession. "You can read now."

Technically, he supposed she was right. Although he was always ashamed of it, there was never a point in which he had hope for becoming literate. His mother would smile if she knew someone had finally managed to break it through his thick skull. Hounds knew she hadn't been able to. She might even be...pleased.

But Alexander didn't let himself think of her. That was only inviting in the freezing, choking waters to close over his head. Nights tended to be the time he was vulnerable to his darkest thoughts, and it was night now. If he was not careful, he would fall apart.

"That was nearly a compliment," he said. "Are you ill or something?"

"No." By the candlelight, she was unraveling the coil of her hair pulled to the top of her head.

"Then why the strangely good mood?"

"I am happy to be returning home."

"But we lost the locket," he reminded her.

"Seifer Daggen is not the only one with weaponry at his disposal. It will surely take some scheming and some spying—perhaps on your part—but if I play the cards I was dealt cleverly enough, I can gain enough support to crush my father before he begins."

Alexander understood. "You mean...you wish to ally yourself with the Czar?"

"Ally is a strong word. I shall simply make him aware of the threat in his own lands, if only through the Czarevich. If need be, I am willing to temporarily combine our forces to rid my father of the locket's power. But we will have to arrive at the palace to be sure. My father may yet be struggling with the deity he stole."

"The Czar is Navrikan. And he's a madman."

"Oddly enough, I have recently had my share of dealing with both."

"Mindlessly burning their cities will not work next time."

She let his sentence hang in the air for a dangerous beat. "I am aware." Though she gave no indication of it on her face, he sensed her good humor shrink back behind her chilly exterior.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Alexander watched her blow out one of the candles. In the dim light, the room held too much potential. He was nearly glad she ignored him entirely.

Still, he felt the need to not end the conversation on such a sour note. "I have no qualms against killing Ermalai myself if he misbehaves." He picked at a healing cut on his knuckles. "Freakish power or not, we'll find some way to crush your father. And then we'll finally be rid of each other."

He left out the fact that he had no life once this problem was solved. No goals, nowhere to go. Nobody but himself.

"Yes," he heard her say. "At last."

When she snuffed out the second candle, the room plunged into near-darkness. She moved to the window to close the curtains, and he caught a glimpse of her, the moonlight sliding over the curves of her body. It caught in her hair too, which was down for once and brushing her waist. Sensing his attention, she threw a glance over her shoulder to him. Dark eyes glittered.

No, he told himself. Look away. He may have hated himself, but he was not that self-destructive. He knew better.

That would not end well. In fact, it would not end at all, because there would be no beginning it in the first place. Some things you just weren't meant to have.

Even so, for more reasons than usual, it took him hours to find sleep.