At the very least, I will leave this room with my life. That was all I wanted when the Woodsmen took me—to survive—but somewhere in the time since I left Keszi, I have begun to wish for more. For the gentle embrace of my father, for a quill and ink I could use to write out my own name, for stories that didn’t make me flush with apology for daring to speak them. For a man who kneels with my name on his lips. I think that I sealed the turul’s fate the moment I started wanting any of it. I would have done whatever it took to keep it all from falling out of my hands like leaves.
“Perhaps it was not your intent.” The king’s voice jerks me back to the half-lit room. “But you have helped to deliver me the greatest prize. And for your aid, my son, I will reward you—a place in my hall permanently, and no more Woodsman errands.”
A swallow bobs in Gáspár’s throat. King János leaves me, and puts both hands around Gáspár’s face, cupping his cheeks. Almost imperceptibly, Gáspár flinches. I wonder if he is remembering his father’s heated blade swinging down at him. I wonder if it is possible, to be comforted by the same hand that struck you. Certainly I craved Virág’s gentleness as much as I loathed her cruelty. Nose to nose like this, Gáspár several inches taller than the king, I can see no mirror between them. Gáspár must take after his mother alone.
It is another moment before Gáspár speaks. “Thank you, Father.”
His words, low and deferent, are more than King János deserves. An old bitter part of me wants to hurl the king to the floor and see how it looks when he’s the one kneeling, at the mercy of his ill-treated son and two wolf-girls. But Gáspár has no appetite for vengeance, none of my own perverse spite. He stays still and silent until his father’s hands slip off his face.
“Is that it, then?” I ask. “Now that you have the turul, will you let the seer go, and stop taking wolf-girls?”
The king’s gaze drifts over Katalin, landing on me. Something kindles in his eyes, like a match being struck.
“Leave us,” he says. “I will speak to évike alone.”
“My lord,” the érsek protests, but the king silences him with a glare. Lajos prods Katalin from the room, and Gáspár follows, brow furrowing with concern. I suspect he will wait nervously on the other side of the door. Only when the chamber has been emptied does King János speak.
“I did not intend to be a cruel king,” he says.
This nearly sends me to hysterics. “No? What was your intention, when you cut out your son’s eye? When you had twelve wolf-girls killed so you could steal their magic?”
“Careful, wolf-girl. I can still take your head too.”
“If it weren’t for me, you’d never have gotten the turul,” I say. What’s the use in being docile now? Smiling pliantly and serving him dutifully didn’t stop the king from betraying me. No bargain can last between a hawk and a mouse. “Now that you have the power you wanted so desperately, will you finally leave Keszi be?”
“There is nothing more your village can offer me,” says King János.
“Except the legitimacy that our pagan myths and pagan ways grant you.” My voice is sour, like I have tasted a peach with a blackened pit. “And, of course, our magic. Once you’ve ended the war with Merzan, you believe the peasants and the counts will rally back to your side?”
“They will,” he says. “I’m certain of it. And I know you worry over the fate of the Yehuli, too, but I have no desire to see them banished. They provide important services to the city, and they have lived in Király Szek for a very long time.”
Just like Jozefa said. I think of the star-dappled temple ceiling and the gold-wreathed columns. I think of Zsigmond. If keeping the king on the throne is what will ensure his safety, and the safety of everyone on Yehuli Street, then my magic is a very small sacrifice to make. If killing the turul is what keeps Keszi safe, how can the gods fault me for what I’ve done? Better King János than Nándor. Better to kneel than to die.
Even as I think it, I know it is a Yehuli thought. One that Virág would try and scrub from me like she would a stain on her skirt.
I don’t speak. There is nothing else to say. Finally, King János steps back up onto the dais and returns to his seat.
“I would like it very much if you attended my feast tonight, wolf-girl,” he says. “After that, I’ll no longer have any need of your services. You’ll be free to go.”