27

DARLING

I chase after Caspian, unshed tears burning my eyes behind the smoked lenses of my goggles. How could everything go so wrong so quickly? One moment I was excited for a future with Talon at my side and Leonetti as an ally, and now I am right back where I was months ago, longing to free Leonetti and cursing Dragons and their treachery.

My breath hitches when I think of Talon’s expression of surprise, the way he immediately deferred to Aurora when things looked bad. Anyone with a lick of sense can see she is after the throne, or at least after a useful puppet she can control. The look she and the new regent of House Barghest exchanged makes me think they’ve been planning this for a while, and I cannot help but wonder what her next move might be. Marry that Mia Brynsdottir to Talon so that the two of them can better control the realm? Most likely. And that beautiful fool will walk right into the trap, because he’s too good to do otherwise.

I grit my teeth when I think of Talon. All of his soft words from last night are meaningless in the harsh light of day, and I am a besotted idiot for thinking that someone nicknamed the War Prince could lay down his arms and learn to be a kind and just ruler. Did he even mean anything he said last night? Or was it just more Dragon politicking?

For a moment I think of Gavin. What if he was right? What if this is all my fault because I didn’t kill the princes when I had the chance?

Chaos take them all!

I push aside my hurt and anger to focus on the immediate goal: Caspian. Perhaps this can be salvaged. If I find Caspian and make him return, make him give me my title and care of Leonetti, maybe I can send word to Adelaide and the fleet that this is a foolish endeavor, that her father is free.

But I have to find Caspian first.

I push through the crush of people and servants, and someone yells after me, grabbing the edge of my dress to stop me. I shove them off, roughly, and my blood thrums, and I run after Caspian. There’s no sight of him in the hallway outside the great hall, and it’s only by chance that I see a flash of scarlet turning a corner.

Elias.

I run after the doctor, catching them before they can disappear behind a door. I drag them backward by their robe. They spin around in surprise when they see me.

“My quill—” Elias begins.

“Save it. Where is he? Caspian? Where did he go?”

“The ramparts. He was rambling on about a tooth of some kind—” Elias breaks off, their expression one of worry. “I’m going to get my kit. I think maybe he’s had some kind of break.”

“What did he see, Elias?” I ask, too bold in my desperation. Elias opens their mouth, whether to object or to equivocate I’m not sure, so I save them the effort. “I know he has a prophet’s boon.”

Elias’s shoulders sag, like they’re relieved to have someone to share the secret with. “I don’t know, but it’s bad. The last time he was this worked up was . . . well, it was right before the War Prince brought you to Phoenix Crest.”

I don’t know what to do with that information, so I turn and run toward the ramparts.

My trip through the fortress is a quick one. The narrow halls are surprisingly empty, but I suppose that makes a strange kind of sense. There isn’t a lot of reason for the servants to stick around. If I were here against my will I would flee at the first sign of trouble as well.

I run up the narrow stairwell to the ramparts, thighs burning from the exertion. It’s been too long since I was in a proper fight and my fitness has suffered while on tour, and as I explode out onto the ramparts, I’m surprised to find them empty, the cannons unmanned.

“They’re just decorations, the greedy fools,” Caspian says.

“So now you’re a mind reader as well?” I say.

“Ha! Not a chance. That boon doesn’t actually exist. I only know about the cannons because I examined them our first day here.”

“You knew this was going to happen.”

“I had an inkling that this was a possible path, that Barghest would provoke Kraken to ensure the war continued. Enough of that, it soon won’t matter. Come help me find this blasted tooth.”

I ignore him and look out to the sea. There are only a handful of Kraken ships, and even fewer Barghest ships. But there is a line of ships flying a strange flag far on the horizon, a bright yellow thing I do not recognize. Not only that, but the formation of the Kraken ships isn’t one of attack, but of defense. Nothing adds up.

“They’re mercenaries, if you’re wondering,” Caspian calls. “House Barghest at least is single-minded in their devotion to a goal, even if their sense of aesthetics is something that belongs in a nightmare.”

Caspian is on the far corner edge of the ramparts, crawling around the massive statues of slavering hounds. Barghests, I suppose. His clothes are grubby and ripped, even though he can’t have been looking for more than a few minutes. For some reason the tabard he wears gives me a strange sense of familiarity, although I cannot place where I’ve seen the design before.

Caspian exclaims in surprise and pulls free a large crystal with a pointed end. “Smaller than I was expecting,” he says. He turns to me. “Where is your dagger?”

I frown and pull out one of the throwing knives I’ve managed to tuck into my waistband. Caspian huffs out angrily. “No, the Gryphon blade. Where is it?”

“In my rooms,” I begin, and Caspian leaps down from the ledge. He’s on me immediately, turning me around and pushing me toward the stairs.

“Go. Get. It,” he says, emphasizing each syllable as though he is speaking to a child. “And hurry. Otherwise, all is lost.”

I should argue or balk. I should bring up Leonetti once more, but I find that I am caught up in the same urgency that drives Caspian. I don’t know what he’s seen or what he’s doing, but I believe that he’s working toward some purpose greater than what the rest of us can imagine.

Or perhaps I’m just angry enough that I want to see what kind of havoc a half-mad prince can wreak.

I sprint down the stairs, catching my skirt on something sharp and just letting the material tear. I rip off the epaulets and take out the earrings. A fleeing servant rushes toward me. She drags a little boy along by the hand, and I stop her long enough to push the earrings and feathered epaulets into her hands.

“Take these,” I say before she can object. “You’ll need the funds.”

“Thank you, my fang,” she calls as I move past her and back to my rooms. I hope all of the House Barghest indentures have used the nearby battle to flee.

And I hope those thrice-cursed House Barghest bastards never find them.

The door to my rooms stands open, and I am relatively unsurprised to see them ransacked. Things are unraveling quickly, and I only hope that the Gryphon dagger is still where I hid it.

I move toward the bureau, pulling out a drawer and feeling underneath for the blade. I’m not sure what made me hide it. Some Chaos-borne instinct, perhaps? Elias’s words come back to me, how the last time they marked this kind of behavior in Caspian was before I arrived to Phoenix Crest. Why has Chaos tied me and Caspian together in such a way? What terrible thing did Caspian see that somehow concerns me? It has to be more than the fall of House Sphinx, doesn’t it?

I’ve just freed the dagger from its hiding place when there’s a soft scrape behind me. I grab the blade and roll to my left just as a sword slams into the stone floor, mere inches away from where I knelt.

“I always knew you were exactly what you seemed.” Talon’s friend Finn stands nearby, a short sword clutched in a white-knuckle grip.

“An assassination attempt already?” I say. “I haven’t even been named regent yet, lizard.”

“And you never will be, squid.” Finn holds up a small pot of gloss. “I knew you were using Talon. It’s too bad you won’t get the chance to use this.”

I laugh, the sound forced even to my own ears. “It’s just lip tint! Yes, that is definitely my grand plan. To kiss Talon until he is delirious and leave a scarlet mark upon him so everyone knows he is mine.” The jest is closer to the truth than I like, and my heart skips a beat in my chest at Finn’s cruel smile.

“You think me stupid, but I’ve spent the past few weeks hunting down the last of your Barbs with my sister and extracting the truth from them. You call this the Kiss of Death, correct? It doesn’t affect the wearer, but one kiss and the victim dies an excruciating death.”

I swallow thickly. I don’t have time for this.

“You’re wrong,” I say, marking my possible paths to the exit. I’m thankful for my goggles, as their smoked lenses allow me to search my escape routes without Finn being any the wiser.

“We’ll see what Talon thinks,” Finn says, lunging for me. He isn’t leading with his sword but with his free hand, and I remember at the last possible second that he has a sleep boon and a single touch will render me unconscious. I spin out of the way, rolling over the bed before pulling out one of my throwing knives and launching it at Finn. The blade buries itself deep in his right shoulder, and he grunts in pain but doesn’t drop his weapon.

For a moment I want to finish him. I could. There are two more throwing knives buried in the layers of my finery, and I could launch one at his throat, revenge for killing Gavin. But Caspian is waiting on me, so I turn and run out of the room and back to the ramparts, my steps far outpacing Finn’s.

Boots thunder behind me as Finn gives chase, but the narrow twisting and turning corridors work to my advantage. Once I am certain I am out of his line of sight, I duck into a long disused garderobe and wait until Finn runs past. Then I count ten heartbeats before dashing out and running down the hallway back the way I came, to the stairwell that leads to the ramparts. I have no doubt that in a few moments Finn will rally reinforcements, and the fortress will be crawling with Teeth intent on my demise. I have most likely just signed my own death warrant.

All I can do is hope that Caspian’s prophecy is worth it.