LIO FELT THE SLAM of the hatch as a vibration in the ground beneath his bare feet. The thud echoed through
the woods.
Cassia was a powerful flame, and he felt like nothing more than a moth. If he drifted too close, her
anger would consume him.
He altered his course and ran for the hatch. She marched toward him, Knight loping at her heels,
her anger lashing out before her.
Anger was better than fear. Wasn’t it?
She was only halfway to the fountain when he caught up with her and fell into step beside her. She
halted in her tracks and rounded on him. He stilled.
“What were you thinking?” she seethed.
Her anger whipped again, ensnaring him and yanking him closer. There was fear underneath. No.
Panic.
“Cassia, when you arrived at the Summit tonight, I sensed you were angry. I did not realize—”
“No, you didn’t realize at all.” Her words came in a breathless rush, her tone a warning on the
edge of an outburst.
Purely on instinct, Lio lifted his hands and reached out to her to reassure her.
She backed away.
He froze with his hands in midair. Of course. This was Cassia. His touch was not worth the risk,
except through a handkerchief. She had no use for his touch. Especially in this moment.
He turned his mistake into a placating gesture. Far too much like one might make when facing an
armed opponent.
“You told the other Hesperines about me,” she accused.
“No. I promised you I wouldn’t. Politics were all I had to speak of to convince my people the king
must not deny you your seat at the Summit. Tonight was the first time we broached the subject with
Lucis, and we were all surprised when he acted on his decision immediately. I had no chance to tell
you—”
“It’s your fault he summoned me to the table!”
Your fault. The words lanced Lio, even as her sense of betrayal took hold of him. For an instant all
he could think of was her pain, and his own regret rubbed salt in the wound. “I thought you might
be...”
What? Pleased? That he had dragged her before the one man in the world she least wished to see?
The man she had willingly placed herself near in order to achieve her own ends.
“...that you might find the opportunity useful,” Lio finished.
“Useful?” she spat.
Lio pulled back from her fury, attuning himself to his Gift again, anchoring himself in his own skin.
He had misjudged. Catastrophically.
She took a step forward, advancing on him. “One does not attempt anything ‘useful’ with the king
watching. I spend every waking moment laboring not to draw his attention. Every move I make to
accomplish anything ‘useful’ must be considered and reconsidered and considered again so he does
not suspect I am interested in—or capable of—achieving anything ‘useful.’ If he thinks for one
moment I know more than he has mandated that I should, or I lift a finger to accomplish anything in his
domain, then it will already be too late for me.”
The words and the anger and the desperation roared out of her. Lio could have thought of
something to say. But he didn’t.
Had anyone ever heard her say such things, much less listened to her?
He stood still and silent under the onslaught.
“How could you think I want a place at his table? How dare you presume to arrange it?” Her voice
broke as the depths of her terror had broken the surface already.
Lio had tapped into her worst fears. An instant of regret overtook him again that he had done this to
her. But then came certainty.
If one never lanced a wound, it festered. If one never stared fears in the face, they only grew more
powerful.
“You don’t know what he’s capable of!” Cassia cried. “You don’t know what he’s done. I do. I am
the only one who does, and because of that, I must never give him reason to think I am a danger to
him. I know better—far better than you and your foolish, idealistic embassy—how to pick my battles
with him.”
She shut her eyes, and Lio could feel her fighting to regain composure. She had lost control. That
frightened her as much as the king did.
“No,” she amended. “I know not to pick fights at all. I go nowhere near the field.” She looked Lio
in the eye now. “I am the king’s pawn. But I will not be yours.”
“You are no one’s pawn.”
Her anger hit him like a slap in the face. If she had been anyone else, she might have cursed him
and actually reached out to strike him with a hand. But Cassia did not call upon the gods, and Cassia
did not strike out at anyone.
“What would you call me, then?” she demanded. “Your wreath of victory? How proud you must
feel to have exerted real influence upon the course of the Summit for the first time. You convinced
your people to take your view, and you even moved Lucis Basileus himself on his throne.
Congratulations, Initiate Ambassador Deukalion. Your first triumph as a diplomat—you succeeded in
putting Lady Cassia where you want her.”
“Under the Goddess’s Eyes, Cassia, I swear you are not some kind of notch on my spear!
Hespera’s Mercy. I am not a Tenebran lord who thinks himself entitled to power over others’ lives. I
am a Hesperine—a heretic. The truth is, I am no more welcome before the king and Council than you
are. The Summit is a rare chance for me to influence them, and I thought to use it to aid you in
achieving influence as well. I will not deny I felt a sense of triumph. But only because I thought I had
truly helped someone. Helped you.”
“You wanted to help me, and this is what you did? What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking it is a shame upon this house that you are forced to make do with scraps of
influence, when those who wield the power are unworthy of it. You deserve a seat at that table more
than anyone there. If no one in this godsforsaken palace will give you what is rightfully yours, then I
shall hold them accountable.”
No flicker of surprise or comprehension in her eyes. Just her mask, a new one tonight, wrought of
indignation. “That is not how things work in Tenebra.”
“I know, and it isn’t right.”
“Self-righteous Hesperines! Always claiming to know right and wrong! To have a solution for
everything! How dare you?”
He swallowed, stifling the urge to rub a hand through his hair. “A good question. One you have
every right to ask. I presumed a great deal, didn’t I?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. He saw it now, and he could not confront it without feeling
shame.
He had forced her hand. Just like everyone else who surrounded her. Especially the king.
That was what Lio had done. He had made Cassia feel powerless. How could he do that to her?
How had he managed to descend to that level in his attempt to give her more power? For all his
good intentions, he had put her in a place she had no desire to be—and at the king’s behest. Lio had
influenced his people, they had influenced the king, and like a puppet master, Lucis had pulled his
daughter to the table on the end of her strings.
No one had asked Cassia.
“Forgive me.” Lio bowed his head. “I had no intention of putting you in this position. I should have
consulted you.”
“You should never have considered it.”
“If I had come to you first and offered to secure you a seat at the Summit—”
“I would have told you I do not want it.”
“Don’t you?”
“Of course not!” She raised her voice again. “How could you ever think I would?”
“I think if you weren’t afraid, you would.”
“How dare you,” she said again, “presume to know what I want. How dare you come here and
upset everything I’ve worked for!”
“It would indeed be wrong of me to say I know better than you what you want or what’s best for
you. I speak only of what you have decided you want, your own desires you have expressed to me.”
“I’ve never said anything of the sort to you!”
“You’ve been telling me, showing me night after night what you want. Not to be in danger. Not to
endure suffering. The information you need to protect yourself and stay one step ahead of those who
would cause you harm. The opportunity to use that information to your advantage. And beyond that?”
A sad laugh escaped him. “To have Knight by your side. To get to work in the garden instead of
having to do any weaving. Such modest wants. Far too modest for someone like you.”
“Oh, I see! I fall short of Hesperines’ lofty standards of desire and Will. My wants are
insufficient!”
“There can be nothing wrong with your wants. They are, by definition, yours to decide. Only think
how they might grow if you did not have to stunt them. Your life is insufficient for you. You deserve
more.”
Her riposte was long in coming this time. But as the silence stretched on, Lio felt the cool air on
his skin and a lightness in his chest. Her anger, easing. Giving way to something else too complicated
and fraught to name.
“I want to keep breathing, Lio. I’m a girl child and a bastard. Either reason alone would be
enough. The king could have left me to the wolves the hour I was born, and even now he could
consign me to the headsman at his pleasure. Every day I peer into my own grave, and the only reason I
am not buried yet is that I do not try to right wrongs. I do not give a thought to what I deserve. I think
about what I need and what I can manage, and that is all I have any call to think about.”
“You’re wasted on necessity and managing.”
“You do not understand the way of things here.”
“No, I do. I understand that you’re intelligent and determined and braver than any man who charges
out onto a bloody battlefield with a sword. You shouldn’t be locked away in some neglected wing of
the palace or even the walls of a temple garden. Forgive me for thinking to put some tools in your
hand that would help you dig your way out.”
She stared at him. Her face was blank. But Lio sensed a war in her spirit. A foolish sense of hope
overtook him.
Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away.
He let her go. He didn’t know what would come of it, if she would ever agree with what he had
said. But he did know that what he’d said had reached her.