But I don’t care how much she loathes me, I don’t want her or her baby to be killed. If it were anyone else telling her this, she might listen, but she’s too blinded by her hatred of me.
With a defeated sigh, I turn around and grip the lock, but before I turn it, I speak quietly, hoping for one more chance at getting through to her. “I know you hate me, and that’s okay. But I swear to you, Mist, I’m telling the truth. I don’t want you or your baby to be hurt. Talk to Rissa. She’ll tell you that you can trust me. I can get you out where you’ll be safe, but I’ll need your answer at the ball.”
I glance over my shoulder at her, and I catch the tail-end of doubt flashing through her expression.
“A new queen isn’t going to tolerate a bastard born from another woman, Mist,” I say gently. “Just…please. Talk to Rissa. Consider it for your baby’s sake.”
“Even if it were true, which I don’t believe it is, Midas would never—”
“You can’t trust Midas,” I snap vehemently. “He’s always going to choose the best option for himself to get ahead, and with a new wife, you’re no longer it.”
She knots her arms in front of her defensively, but despite the aggravated posture, I can see the anxiety in the tightness of her eyes, in the way her toes dig into the flooring. “Why would you even tell me this?”
My shoulder lifts in a shrug. “We saddles should stick together, right?” I say it lightly, but inside, it’s a deep-seated, melancholic thought. If only we could stop competing, stop the petty jealousies, stop letting men pit us against one another. Imagine what women could do if we started being loyal to each other?
Mist’s lips press into a thin line, and an indiscernible look crosses her face before she jerks her chin up. “Leave.”
Giving her a stiff nod, I turn around and flip the lock. I have no idea if she’s actually going to talk to Rissa, but if I managed to put even a sliver of doubt in her mind, then it was worth it. At the very least, I hope that she looks over her shoulder.
With the click of the lock, the door is swung open, and I walk out past the guards, ignoring their disapproving looks.
On the way back to my rooms, emotional and mental exhaustion crushes me from the inside out, until my spinning mind and curdling heart have made my temples throb and my eyes burn. The jarring impact of this night is like being stuck under the brutish steps of a burden, heels driven down to squash me under its weight.
When we get to my corridor, Scofield and Lowe are the ones stationed outside my door, and their eyes widen at the sight of me.
“My lady! How… You were in your rooms all day and night,” Scofield says with clear distress, pulling at his light brown hair in a nervous gesture.
I can’t answer him. I don’t have the mental capacity right now to try to come up with a plausible lie, nor the emotional availability to care to.
Instead, I move past him without a word and close the door, locking it behind me, and then I fall into the bed, the forbidding disquiet in my chest taking up too much space.
I need sleep, and then first thing in the morning, I need to speak to Rissa. Then I can meet Slade at the library and tell him everything. Together, we can get a handle on the situation with Mist, on Queen Kaila, and hopefully, Lu will also have found Digby.
Despite those rational thoughts though, anxiety flutters through my system like provoked wasps stinging up my insides, because I’m not sure if I’ve done enough.
I fall into a troubled sleep, praying to the goddesses, but it’s a silent voice to a starless sky, and when have they ever listened to me, anyway?
Chapter 40
AUREN
I wake with a determination steeped into my bones.
Midas, Digby, Mist, Rissa, Kaila. These obstacles piled up on top of me last night, but sleep and restless thought did one good thing for me. It stoked my anger and my resolution enough to drive away the anxiousness.
I’m too close to getting what I want to mess it up now.
Getting up from bed, I tromp over to the curtains and pull them open. I’m greeted by a milky morning, six inches of snow already piled up on the floor.
I dress hurriedly, with the backdrop of the baying dogs coming from outside. Wearing a simple silk gown, corset snapped impatiently, boots and gloves and cloak secured, I rush outside to the balcony, determined to sneak out so I can try to talk to Rissa again. It can’t wait until nightfall.
Yet when my hands come down to grip the railing, my body jolts to a stop. There’s a guard standing just below, gold plated armor subdued beneath flakes of snow. He’s walking along the front of the dogs’ pen, stance relaxed as he strolls along, but my stomach drops.