Her anger quelled by Eovin's threat, Mhera sat in her corner of the tiny hidden room again, her arms around her knees. The pendulum of her emotion had swung back toward despair. There was no sound from the room beyond. She could hear Matei's breathing, too close for her comfort.
The tense silence stretched out for many minutes as they waited, listening for sounds from the outer library, but they heard nothing except for Eovin's pacing. At last, Matei spoke. The sound of his voice in the darkness so startled Mhera that she jolted.
"I will explain," he said.
"Don't," Mhera said. "Uncle's guards are coming. They will find me and they will take you back where you belong."
"Mhera."
Something in Matei's tone gave her pause. She turned her head toward him. There was no light; she could see nothing but inky blackness. Still, she knew where he was by the sound of his breathing, the sound of his body in the dark. She whispered, "Tell me," and her voice sounded small, like a child's.
"I am sure you realized when you tried to run that you cannot."
Mhera placed her hand over her heart, remembering the sharp pain that had brought her to her knees.
"We are connected, my lady. What happened in the prison ... it is called blood-binding." His voice was gentle now; it was almost as if he cared for her pain. "You cannot run from me. We cannot be parted, except in peace. You must remain; you have no choice. If we separate—if you were to run, or be taken from me—we will weaken, and we will die. It's literal, Mhera; it has nothing to do with your uncle or any sort of punishment."
Mhera shook her head, disbelieving. The sincerity in his voice offended her. He was convincing, that much could be said, but she could no sooner trust his word than trust a snake not to bite. He was saying this only to make her obey him. Only to keep her where he needed her until he could achieve his goal—whatever it may be. "I don't believe you. You'll take me and hold me for ransom. You worked some spell on me to keep me near you."
"I couldn't hold you for ransom even if I wished to—which I don't. Sending you back would undo me. The same bond that chains you to me ties me to you. It works both ways."
"Liar. You don't intend to send me back. You never would. You'll kill me."
Matei said, "No, my lady. Why would I do such a thing?"
"Why did your queen kill him?" And at last it came out, the root of her hatred, the root of her fear. Koreti. Dear Koreti. "Why did Prince Koreti have to die? Malice. There does not need to be a reason, as was proven to me and mine when I was just a girl. You need no reason to kill me when you hate the Starborn as you do."
Mhera was crying now. She clenched her shaking hands tightly together. If he wanted, he could kill her now, even in the darkness. His strong hands had held her fast in the prison. They could choke the life out of her. But she went on now that she had begun, heedless of her own fear. "You rebel against the empire, against order, against peace. It is all blood and death."
"The queen. Rhodana. You think she killed your prince." Matei's voice was incredulous.
"I know she did. That is why Uncle executed her."
"She never called herself the queen, you know. She never wanted a crown. She preferred to have her feet on the ground, her hands in the dirt."
"Don't speak to me of her. Don't." Mhera put her face in her hands.
"She was a leader, Mhera, not a warmonger. She wanted peace."
"You don't—"
A sound came from without: a loud knock, then Eovin's voice calling, "One moment!"
Mhera fell silent, sitting tensely in her corner. Had help come for her at last? She heard Matei shifting behind her, but before she could register what was happening she felt his hand groping for her. She pulled away from him with a whimper—"Let go—" but he reached again and grabbed her arm, pulling her back against his chest in the dark. He pressed his other hand over her mouth. As she twisted to pull her face away, struggling to draw in a breath so she could scream, he gripped her face more firmly, his fingertips pressing into her cheeks.
She felt his breath tickle her ear as he whispered, "Be quiet, Mhera. All I have said is true. Your life depends on your silence now."
Mhera's breath came in unsteady gasps through her nose. Outside the secret door, she heard heavy booted steps: her uncle's guardsmen coming in. Her heart sank as she heard one of them say in a gravelly voice, "Lorekeeper Eovin, I am sorry for this. We must search your chamber."
"Search my—why, whatever for?" Mhera could picture Eovin's expression, the feigned surprise, the concern. For me, she thought. But did they even know she was gone?
"There has been an incident. You—take the library. You two, the bedchamber. Leave no corner unturned."
"An incident? What has happened? Has it something to do with the disturbance last night?"
"I'm afraid one of His Grace's prisoners has escaped."
"Goddess above. Some brigand? You there—be careful with that! It's older than your grandmother's grandmother. Give it to me." Eovin's voice grew more distant. "Captain, nothing is missing, not that I've noticed. Is this necessary? These are not my possessions, you know; they are treasures of the realm."
"Let my men do their work. His Grace is sure to have all of our heads if we cannot turn this prisoner up again."
"All this, for some cutpurse?"
"Not just a cutpurse, Master Eovin. The worst of 'em. No sooner did we lop off the bitch queen's head than her right hand escapes in the night. He's a powerful mage. I imagine he's a world away by now, but we must search the palace for any trace of him. Spare a prayer for me tonight. It will be ugly for us all if we cannot find him. You there! Standing about twiddling your thumbs? Double watch tonight, you useless bastard! Look under the bed! Everywhere!"
Mhera's heart hammered in her breast. She was acutely aware of Matei behind her: the grip of his hand, the heat of his chest, the sound of his breath.
After me comes the King!
No. No. Of all the terrible things that could happen to her in this life, this was surely the worst of them all.
"Oh, sir, if you please, be careful. These books, they're very precious." Mhera heard Eovin's voice travel on the other side of the painting. He sounded very far away. There was a crash. "Oh! Oh, no. Sir, that was a vase from the Second Era—four hundred years old and more, for the sake of the Goddess, hand painted by—"
The captain spoke again, cutting Eovin off. "What's this, then?"
Mhera drew in a breath, hopeful. Had they found something? Some clue that Eovin had not been alone?
"Ah ... this is terribly awkward," Eovin said.
"Go on, man." The captain sounded more amused than suspicious.
"Am I the first, sir?" Eovin's voice dropped, and Mhera strained to hear him. "Please. There won't be any need to spread this around, will there?"
"Lighten up. These don't exactly look like the rebel's dainties. Is she here?"
"No. She is working, of course."
The captain laughed heartily. "And she keeps these here in case her clothes are the worse for wear after, eh? I would never have pinned you for it. Well, here, take them, then, and good luck to you. Anything, gentlemen?"
"Nothing. It's to the royal wing next, isn't it, sir?" came another voice, young and anxious.
"Aye. Come, let's go. Mind yourselves while we're there, lads. It's not a day to make mistakes. Sorry for your vase, Master Eovin. Be careful with your wench. 'Tis a dangerous sport you're playing."
Footsteps crossed the room, and a moment later, the door closed.
Mhera felt a rush of cool air on her face as Matei pulled his hand away and released her. She scooted away from him along the floor in the hidden room, groping with her hands for purchase on the rows of books. One slipped loose from the shelf and fell to the floor. Putting it right suddenly seemed to be the most important thing to do; it was something to focus on. She felt blindly for the book in the darkness, and as she fumbled, unable to find where it had gone, she sobbed. She held her breath, trying to hold in the tears, hating the knowledge that Matei was near, hearing her weakness.
"Don't cry, Mhera," Matei said. "We will get through this."
"We," Mhera echoed. Her hand finally landed on the fallen book. She picked it up and clutched it to her chest, crouching over it in the dark.
Matei did not say anything then, not for the space of a few breaths; the only sound was Mhera's crying. At last, he said, "You had no choice. I know you didn't. It is not how the blood-binding should be done, my lady. And I am sorry."
Mhera wanted to be strong until she could get through this and set her feet back on the path she had been walking just a day before. But the more Matei spoke, the more it seemed like she would never find that path again. "You are the king she spoke of."
Matei said, "The king?"
"Before she died, Rhodana said a king would come after her. You. It's you."
Matei made a soft sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Of course she would. One last curse to the empire. She had no love for your people."
"She was your wife."
Mhera sensed Matei rising from the floor in the darkness. His voice came from somewhere above; she heard him shifting on his feet to stretch his legs. "No, my lady. But dear to me. Like a mother." The tone of his voice pushed away further inquiry.
Mhera reflected on this for a moment, picturing Rhodana as a mother. She could not. That battle-hardened woman kneeling fearless before death seemed as if she had never had an ounce of warmth in her. She abruptly changed the subject. "Why me? Why did you do this to me? You say you are sorry for it. If all you say is true, your sorrow is worth nothing. You've stolen my life from me."
"I did it because I had no choice." Matei sighed, and he sounded like a much older man. "It is a long story—but the facts are these. I could not escape Jaeron's prison. Not on my own. I needed more energy, more power. And blood-binding is the only way I knew to access more. To take another person's."
"That is no answer. You needed someone—I understand that. Why me?"
"Who else but you? There was no one, Sister. You are the one who came."