In the Veins of the Drowning(23)
By every marker of what was fair, I should have. I should have fallen to my knees and kissed his warm fingers for being willing to cut himself open and tie us together. And if he asked that I risk my life, my safety, the prospect of a home of my own, I should say gladly. The king looked at me with disbelief, as if he could not understand my pause, and I thought: He has never known what it is to exist purely for the use of others.
The thought of submitting to the open-ended whims of yet another king, of owing obedience, of not being wholly my own, choked me with despair.
“I am willing to put my life in danger,” he fumed, “to jeopardize the well-being of my kingdom, so that you can leave this place safely—”
His words landed like a spark on dead grass. They lit my mind with a dreadful realization. No good and fair and just king—no king who was duty-bound to his core—would do something this foolish. A king as virtuous and powerful as Theodore would let me, an orphaned ward of a vicious and lowly king, die here because his reign demanded it. Of course, he might feel the barest prick of guilt to deny me, he might even be so soft as to lament the loss of a young woman who had so wished to live, but he would not do this.
“Your decision, Lady Imogen?”
In the firelight, he looked as hard and imposing as a statue. Shadows tucked themselves beneath his golden-brown cheekbone, into the hollow of his neck and the furrow of his brow. I could see the shape of his ancestor in him. The Great God Panos had been strong and indominable too. He needed nothing from me. And I had nothing to give. But I thought of him in Nemea’s ritual room, spun through with fury over my blood. He’d told me with surety, I do know you.
Who do you think I am?
Suddenly, I wondered if this lopsided favor was perhaps perfectly balanced.
“I agree to your conditions, Your Majesty.” I tilted my chin up. “But if you prove untrustworthy, so help me, once our bond is severed, I will—”
Theodore cocked his head. “Are you threatening me?”
“I have little reason to trust men who say they will do right by me in exchange for my obedience.” I’d grown so cold, so weary, that the words came out in one pathetic, trembling breath.
He raised his brows, conceding my point. “Let’s do this before you accidentally kill me.”
I lowered myself into the warmth rolling out of the hearth. Theodore didn’t join me. He strode to the door, glowered at me, and said, “Keep your blanket on.” Then he brought the three guards in, one by one. Each took me in with alarm and Theodore gave them a searing look. “Where’s Commander Mela?”
His commander. Agatha’s commander. All the men held themselves still, their faces unreadable, until finally one of them looked ashamedly to the floor. “He told us to cover his post.” There was a heavy pause. “He went to meet a woman.”
I’d not thought the king’s mood could have gotten worse, but he grew even more glum, and his voice fell even lower. “Find him.”
“He’ll be on the floor below,” I cut in. “Fourth door on the right.”
Theodore’s attention snapped to me. “Agatha?”
I nodded.
He swiped a hand down his face, then in precise, hushed tones laid out the plan of escape. “Wake the off-duty guards, and before you return here, go to Lady Imogen’s chamber. There’s a dead man in a tub of seawater. Collect some of that water and bring it to me. And for the love of the fucking Gods, do not leave my door unguarded.”
Theodore’s men swept from the room, and he forced the door’s lock into place with a frustration that was surely meant for me. There came the susurrus of linens and the clink of metal, but my attention was on the engagement ring that still sat on my finger. A heavy, sickening feeling settled over me. “I have one condition of my own.”
Theodore came to sit before me with his dagger in one hand and a heap of green silk in the other. “You don’t get conditions—I’m the one doing you a favor.” He tossed the pile of cloth at my knees. “Put this on when your wings shift away.”
I gave him a determined look. “Agatha comes too.”
He spun the hilt of the dagger in his hand. Shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. You don’t need your nursemaid to accompany you and—unlike you—she’s perfectly capable of getting out of here on her own.”
Tears tightened my throat. He was right. I gave an anguished nod and held my hand up between us, revealing the shallow cut I’d made before he’d woken. The scars across my palm looked twisted and pale. Undeterred, Theodore took my cold hand in his warm one and swiped a finger over the cut and gnarled skin, so softly that I winced.
“I have a soft spot for Agatha too.” He’d said it like an apology, voice tender and steeped with regret.
The dagger gleamed as he brought it toward my palm. I went taut wondering how deeply he’d cut me, if he would heal me quickly after, or make me wait.
“Take it,” he said, then pressed the hilt into my other hand. “I’ve heard a Siren bond is painful.” There was no trepidation in his voice, but I wondered if he was afraid. “The way it settles in the body.”
I nodded. I’d heard the same. “Don’t go soft on me now, Your Majesty.”
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, and when I placed the blade to my palm, his lips pinched. I sliced, a quick and shallow cut, and then I set the edge of the blade against Theodore’s palm and made a twin wound. At once, we drew in a breath and pressed our bloody palms together. My heart thundered, beating through my entire body, but I focused on the sticky warmth between our hands.