Ruck reached me first. Just as I grabbed the hilt of the knife, he gripped my wrist and trapped it against the table.
"Drop it, Toom," he said.
I held my breath as sounds blurred together in my ears. My heart thumping against my chest. The gasps breaking out around the table. And the smooth shink as a sword was drawn.
Cool metal pricked my throat, and Tibo said, "Lose the knife, or you'll lose your head."
Then a dark, long-fingered hand reached up and pinched the dull sides of the blade between two fingers, guiding it away from my throat with the smooth nonchalance of one plucking a piece of fluff from a shirt.
I made one more futile attempt to jerk my hand free of Ruck's grasp before releasing the breath I had been holding. With that exhale, I sacrificed more than just air — my very soul had just passed through my lips. My muscles softened, and the knife clattered back to the table with an innocent ting. Then hands clasped over my arms and wrenched me back away from Niako.
Cuffs clicked over my wrists, and my back hit the wall beside the door of the family room. I surrendered my entire weight to the barrier behind me. The cord which had pulled tighter and tighter inside of me over the last week had just snapped, leaving frayed ends dangling uselessly.
"Oh, dear Goddess." It was Astoria, but her voice was almost unrecognizable — a nasal whimper like a suppressed sob. "Niako, he... he almost..."
"I'm fine, Mother," the cold voice returned.
"Have the guards flog him," she said, some of the regular assurance returning to her voice. "Right here, right now. Make him bleed. I will not see my son attacked without repercussions."
Her threat circled above my head like a buzzard. Inside my mind, I smiled up at the buzzard. Do your worst, I thought. You can't hurt me.
I'm already dead.
In my new upside-down world, it only made sense that Makash was the one who came to my defense.
"Mother, perhaps we should overlook this incident, given the circumstances. You see, this man still thinks of Finny as his sister. Niako was never able to break him, so we can't expect him to act like a Claimed. Don't you agree, Niako?"
My gaze drifted to Niako, who stared down Makash with lips pressed in a thin line. Then he jerked his head down in a single nod. "Yes. Makash is right."
I watched as Niako picked up his fork and poked it into the piece of steak I had recently sliced. Then I closed my eyes and slid down against the wall.
I hit the ground like a glass bowl, shattering upon impact. Jagged fragments of my own mind floated around me, the sharp edges reflecting disparate images. Niako's eyes as he toppled over the edge of the lagoon. Finny's eyes as she leapt out of bed for the Thunderstorm Song. Niako and Finny sitting together outside the tent. And the moment my heart had stopped.
I strangled her... and then I dumped her body into the Paksha Sea.
But even though my heart had stopped, the world didn't.
"What about the independent tribes?" It was Ragalor's voice, I vaguely registered. "I hear most of them are siding with Fooja."
Astoria's voice responded. "The independent tribes are too small to threaten the combined forces of Kalasiki and Rakim."
Then Hendy. "But the Tribe of Zarku and the Tribe of Trebalda —"
"Leave Trebalda out of this." Makash. "Her tribe has not declared any loyalties yet."
Ragalor. "But you know how she feels about Rakim." A brief silence. Then he continued. "Anyway, both of those tribes are along the Barzatuk River, which feeds into the Paksha Sea. And we are not prepared to handle an attack by land and sea at the same time."
My fingers tapped against the polished wood floor of their own accord. Some small part of my mind stored the conversation I was hearing away for later as I focused on the one thing I could control. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in...
"Trog controls the traffic of ships into the Paksha Sea," Makari said. "No one can pass without their permission."
"And if Trog sides with Fooja?" said Jabir.
"The Trogolese have never sided with anyone."
Jabir snorted. "Well, if the Trogolese do side with Fooja, don't count on me joining that battle. Fighting those fur-faced barbarians at sea would be the worst way to die."
"Bad, perhaps, but not the worst," said Makash. "Being killed by your own Claimed would be the worst."
"No." The bitterness in Makari's voice spread into the room like a toxic gas. "It would be the worst to die betrayed by someone you love."
"I'm afraid you are all wrong," said Astoria. "The worst way to die would be slowly — quietly — withering a little more each day until you are only a moving corpse." Then with saccharine sweetness: "Don't you agree, dear?"
When tension zapped through the room like static, I opened my eyes. Astoria had turned to face Makari, and the rest of the room watched them, transfixed.
"Dear?" said Astoria, reaching out her left hand to pat Makari's right.
"Don't touch me, bitch," said Makari, and he slapped her hand away with an audible crack.
Silence blanketed the room as Astoria cradled her left hand to her chest, gaping at Makari. For a moment, no one moved. Then Astoria slowly unfurled her hand and held it out for all to see. Her index finger bent toward her middle finger at the first knuckle, forming nearly a right angle.
Makari's eyes widened. "Astoria, I didn't —"
But he was interrupted by Makash, who leapt to his feet at Astoria's side. His hands balled at his sides, and the swell of his chest strained the seams of his frock.
"I'll kill you for that, you bastard! I'll fucking kill you!"
As the three guests began to murmur jumbled conciliatory words, Niako pushed his chair back from the table and rose to his feet.
"Oh my, look at the time," said Niako. "I'm afraid I must go. So lovely to see you, dear family — as always."
* * *
Back in the cell, Ruck uncuffed my hands and chained my right wrist to the floor again. Then he took a step back and examined me in silence. His frown carved new ravines in the topographic map of his face.
Finally, he said, "That actually started off well. But I think you may have destroyed the mood when you tried to kill him."
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my feet.
He lifted a bowl of gruel toward me. "Have some food."
"I'm not hungry."
"Well, Niako wants you to eat."
"Of course he does. He has to keep me alive so he can watch me suffer."
"Hmm." He withdrew the bowl and tapped the side so the gruel jiggled. "And I suppose you are rejecting the food to spite him?"
"No. I'm rejecting the food because I'm not hungry."
I spoke the truth. I had no energy left for spite. A dank cavern inside my chest had swallowed my fear, my anger, my will to fight back... my will to live. Some small voice in the back of my mind said that I should care about the Kingdom and my Aunt Mitzy, but I couldn't. I could only see the light leaving Finny's eyes as dark hands wrapped around her throat.
I made it fast.
Had she tried to yell for help when she finally realized what was happening? Had she choked out my name? I hated Niako for what he had done, but I could no longer summon much vitriol. Who could blame a snake for killing a mouse? When I thought back on it, I realized he had even warned me of what he was about to do.
I was the one to blame.
Ruck again said, "Hmm." Then he set the bowl on the floor beside the bed and shuffled out of the room.
The next morning, Ruck brought in fresh gruel and carried out the gruel from the night before. And the next evening, he brought in a new bowl and removed the untouched bowl from the morning.
Two days after the Serving Ceremony, Niako entered the cell.
I sat on the bed with my knees drawn up to my chest, arms over my legs and head resting on my arms. Without moving, I lifted my gaze to watch him approach. He stopped a few feet from the bed, just outside of the range of motion allowed by my chain.
"Ruck tells me you are not eating." When I didn't answer, he stepped forward to scoop up the bowl at the foot of the bed and set it beside me on the mattress. "You will eat. That's an order."
He was now well within my range of attack, but the thin gold collar on my neck suddenly weighed me down, immobilizing me. When the silence stretched on and he just stood looking at me, I said, "I'm not hungry."
"Not hungry?" He shook his head. "It's been almost three days since you've eaten."
"Has it?"
He released a breath so forceful it was almost vocalized. "This is the first order I've given you, and I expect it to be followed. If you don't eat, you will face consequences."
I raised my head to look him in the eye. "What consequences? Planning to have me whipped again?"
Something flashed over his face, and his shoulders jerked slightly. But after a moment, he huffed a laugh through his nose in one stream of air, and the usual arrogant smirk graced his lips.
"I can do much worse than whipping," he said, and he snatched up the bowl and strode out the door.
* * *
In the morning, the smell awoke me.
A quick glance revealed that the door was still shut, yet the enticing aroma of buttery fish and fresh bread wafted into the cell. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. When the door opened and Niako entered, the smell grew so powerful that my stomach cramped painfully, and I had to suppress a whimper.
Niako held a chair in one hand and a cloth-covered straw basket in the other. He dragged the chair over to the wall a few feet from the bed, just out of my range. Then he peeled back the cloth and lifted a bread roll from the basket. He inspected it, turning it over slowly between the fingers of both hands.
"I once saw someone bring bread to a Claimed, but I could never understand why he bothered."
Then he rose to his feet, crossed the space between us, and offered me the roll.
I stared at his outstretched hand, momentarily transfixed by the memory of what had once been.
"Take it," he said, and in his voice, I heard the other words I had spoken so long ago.
I know it's not enough, but I didn't know what else I could do.
I raised my eyes to his face. A day or two of coarse black stubble covered his usually clean-shaven face, the curly ringlets pressed flat on one side of his head, and his dark eyes flickered with some unknowable stream of never-ending thoughts. He looked tired — bedraggled, even. But when the memory faded from my mind and I returned to the present, just one thought surged through every part of my being.
You killed Finny.
He dropped his hand to his side with a sigh and returned to the chair.
Niako tore the bread roll in half, picked off a piece of it, and popped it into his mouth. I watched him slowly devour the bread, and he watched me watching him. Then he plucked up a piece of fish fry from the basket and nibbled on the corner. His swallow seemed unnecessarily pronounced for such a small amount of fish. He dropped the piece of fish back in the basket.
"To be honest, I have always hated fish fry."
Then he grabbed the basket, pushed to his feet, and left the cell.
The day passed just as the previous two had, measured in the periodic change of my body's position. I stretched out on my back. Flipped to my front. Sat up against the headrest. Leaned forward to hug my knees. But though my body position changed, my thoughts did not. I thought only of Finny.
The sun seeping through the slit on the wall grew brighter and then faded again. When the sunlight became moonlight, Niako returned.
I rolled onto my side to watch him as he lowered himself onto the chair he had left near my bed. Then he sat silently, staring at the wall on the opposite side of the room.
Initially, I kept my eyes on him, wary of his strange behavior. As time dragged on, I drifted to sleep.
When I awoke sometime later, the silence was so complete that I thought he must have left. But when I chanced a glance in his direction, his sharp profile still filled the chair, long lean legs stretched out before him, hands folded on his lap, and head tipped back over the top of the headrest. I wondered briefly if he had fallen asleep, but he was too quiet and still for even that, and his chest moved in quick shallow breaths.
Then he broke the silence.
"Your sister is alive."
The words drifted through the chamber, so quiet and unexpected that I thought I must have imagined them. A glance at Niako revealed the same motionless profile I had seen before.
"Wh — what?"
"You heard me. Finny lives."
As I sat up, a gush of hope rose inside me, so sickeningly sweet that bile pushed up in reflex. "Don't. If you have any soul at all, don't lie to me about that."
"It's not a lie. Killing children is rather dull, so I was simply not interested."
I slid off the bed and took two steps toward him, stopping only when the chain clinked. Weakened by hunger and standing for the first time in several days, vertigo swept over me, and I pressed a hand against the wall to steady myself. "Then where is she?"
He stole a quick side-glance at my hand before focusing on the wall ahead again. "She is safe. Sit down, Toom."
"Safe where? With who?"
"If I tell you, she will be less safe."
I took a step backward and dropped back down onto the bed. I swallowed twice before I was able to respond. "Then why are you telling me at all? What... what do you want from me?"
Voice still emotionless, he said, "I want you to eat."
I picked apart his words, searching for something that made sense, but the effort only made me dizzy. Finally, I said, "I don't trust you."
"Fine. But what if it's true? Would you really give up the chance you might see her again?"
He was right. Even the smallest spark of hope that Finny could be alive made my appetite roar to life, a desperate craving that tugged at my ribs and tightened my throat.
He sat up straight and turned his head toward me, but shadows masked his expression. After a few more moments of silence, he said softly, "Now are you ready to eat?"
* * *
It was amazing how quickly a little food and a little hope could change everything. Over the next few days, I resumed my exercise routine and devoured as much sustenance as they would give me. For some reason, the gruel had been replaced by a colorful and flavorful variety of vegetables, fruit, bread, and meat. With the nutritious offerings, I quickly regained strength.
And as my strength returned, so did my ability to care. I wanted — desperately — to find Finny, but I also spent time poring over the conversation I had heard on the night of the Serving Ceremony. It seemed Fooja had until the Day of Blessings to surrender or declare war. Which meant I needed to escape before then. I still had no interest in being king, but I did want to help Fooja defeat Rakim.
When Ruck brought me food on the second night, I decided to try to ask him some questions, starting with, "Ruck, what day is it today?"
"It's Darkday. Day of the weekly Coupling."
"Ah. But how many days is it until the Day of Blessings?"
"Hmm." He set the platter of food on the bed beside me — fish fry with rosemary potatoes, peas, and sliced peaches. "Must be twelve — no, thirteen days."
"How strong are the combined fighting forces of Rakim and Kalasiki?"
I didn't really expect an answer — it was a ridiculously direct question bound to raise suspicion from even a halfwitted guard. But Ruck didn't even blink an eye.
"Pretty strong. Without allies, Fooja would stand no chance."
"Do you think Trog will side with Fooja?"
Ruck stiffened, eyes narrowing to tiny slits. "How in the seven hells would I know that?"
I sighed and ran a hand over the scruffy beard that had formed on my face. Then I said, "Do you have a shaving razor?"
"Uh, Toom... I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have much use for a shaving razor."
After only a split second of guilt for asking that question of a man who didn't even have eyebrows, I reworded my question. "Do you have access to a shaving razor?"
"That depends. Do you want to kiss Niako, or do you want to kill him?"
"Nothing would be gained by killing Niako inside of this cell."
"Hmm. You are smarter than you look."
I raised my eyebrows. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged. "Take it as a compliment. You are stupid-pretty. I can see why Niako is obsessed with you."
"Niako is not obsessed with me."
"Hmm. Then why do you want the razor blade?"
I didn't answer.
He brought me a razor blade, anyway.
And he apparently also passed on a message I had not asked him to give, because Niako showed up in my cell that evening.
Niako swept a glance over my clean-shaven face before meeting my eyes. "Ruck said you wanted to see me."
The subtle changes from his usual attire told me he was prepared for a night out. He still wore a white tunic, but this one was laced with gold and cut a bit tighter than his usual tunic, tapering from his shoulders to his narrow hips. The stretchy material of his trousers outlined his slim, muscular legs.
When I forced my gaze back to his face, my hands felt wet and my throat dry. "He... what? No, I never told him that."
"Oh. Alright then." He turned back toward the door.
Around my dry throat, I pushed out the word — "Wait."
Niako stopped, hand frozen on the handle of the door. Without turning back, he said, "I'm waiting."
"If you want, maybe I could try tonight."
The still outline of his back and detached voice gave nothing away. "Try what?"
I spoke quickly before I could lose my nerve. "To service you."
He remained turned away, unmoving, and shame heated my cheeks. Clearly, Ruck had been wrong. As if it wasn't bad enough to offer myself up to the enemy, I was throwing myself at a man who did not even want me.
To the sharp, unyielding lines of his back, I said, "I don't know why I offered that when you made it clear you have better options. Forget I said anything."
Niako finally turned, the movement painfully slow, and lifted his eyes to mine. "And why would you want to service me? What would you hope to gain?"
The heat of his stare warmed my skin, ratcheting my heartbeat up a few notches. "Nothing."
He snorted a laugh and shook his head. "I suppose I should be glad to know you haven't become any better at lying."
If he could see through my lies, perhaps I needed to give him some small piece of truth.
"I want you to need me."
His hands twitched slightly, and his gaze darkened on mine. "Why?"
I licked my lips, grasping for another half-truth that would not give away my intentions.
"I know that when a Master tires of their Claimed, the Claimed is killed."
"I'm not going to tire of you, Toom."
"You might."
He stood rooted to the ground, but a divot formed between his eyebrows, and his teeth set together. "No. I won't."
Something raw in his voice tugged at the bottom of my gut. I struggled to continue to meet his eyes as I chewed on another piece of truth that might help me. When my lips finally managed to form the words, they came out sounding awkward and clumsy.
"Also, I... I've been alone in this room for a long time."
He raised a single eyebrow. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I could use a release."
I watched him slowly digest this. The divot above his nose deepened and then smoothed. Finally, he nodded.
"Maybe at the Coupling, I can find someone suitable to meet your needs."
"I don't want someone suitable. I want you."
His perplexed stare now showed me he saw some truth in my eyes, and that was even more flustering than him catching me in a lie.
"Don't tell me you still find me attractive."
I jerked one shoulder in a small shrug and dropped my gaze to the floor by my feet as heat spread across my neck and face again. "I know you have better offers —"
He closed the space between us with three long-legged strides, startling me into silence. Then he crouched down to my level, touched two fingers to my chin, and pushed my head back to look up at him. His dark eyes darted between mine.
"You shouldn't want me," he said, voice low.
"I shouldn't," I agreed.
"I don't —" His eyes flicked away for just a second before returning to my face. "I don't reciprocate." He sounded oddly embarrassed at this admission.
"I didn't think you would," I said, although the mental image his words conjured had my blood pumping fast.
His eyes still studied mine. "I'm not... gentle."
The careful words in his lisped accent should have disgusted me. Instead, lust strummed through my veins. Clearly, I really had been alone for too long.
"I'm not fragile," I said.
Then his eyes flashed with something not so carefully regulated, and a quiet groan resonated from his chest. I felt the rumble deep inside, and a shudder of pleasure washed through me. If I could just look into those dark, beautiful eyes and forget everything their owner had done, maybe I could actually allow myself to enjoy this.
I swiped a slow tongue along my lower lip and then bit it. He swallowed as his eyes tracked the movement. Then he pushed to his feet. "And I don't like to kiss."
"Tell me what you prefer to do." I barely recognized my own voice, deep and rough. When he didn't immediately respond, I slid off the bed onto my knees.
His breathing had become shallow. He reached out a hand and brushed my hair back from my eyes in a hesitant, almost tender motion. But then he jerked his head to both sides and stepped back.
"I prefer to bed men who are not chained."
"Then unchain me."
"Ha. I also prefer not to unchain anyone who wants me dead."
"I don't —"
"Stop. Why don't we just skip the pretense, and you can tell me what you really want?"
His harsh gaze cut down every rebuttal I crafted. So I simply said, "I just need to get away from this cell for a few hours."
My intentions sounded painfully obvious to my own ears. I might as well have asked him to give me an opportunity to escape. I waited for him to laugh at me, but he just held my gaze, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Finally, he nodded slowly.
"Alright. Tomorrow morning, you will help me practice swordplay. Let's see if you are as good as everyone says you are."