Kadiatu had more power than she let on. To do what she’d done—utterly transform this patch of earth—was more than impressive. Her magic had pushed out Rayghast’s darkness to the point where Marai could no longer feel it at all.
The first cottage was entirely ready by the time the sun set. Raife had re-hung two shelves on the walls so they could store their clay pots, bowls and plates. Due to the second room, they decided this larger cottage would be shared by Marai, Thora, Kadiatu, and Aresti. The boys’ cottage would be fixed up the next day, but they’d all sleep together tonight.
“I need to return to the castle,” Marai told Thora as she stirred a pot of leeks, ground barley, and nettles. A kitchen servant had given Thora a few basic ingredients to start out with. Marai guessed that kindness had more to do with Ruenen than the servant. “I’m expecting news from the North.”
“Do you want Raife or Leif to go with you?” Thora asked. “I don’t want you traveling alone through the city at night.”
Marai’s mouth twisted. “I’m a mercenary.”
“I know that, Storm Cloud, but I’ll worry all the same.”
Marai bristled at the nickname. “I’ll be back later.”
She ventured out into the dark street. Marai was quite used to nighttime escapades as the Lady Butcher. Walking alone in Kellesar at night wasn’t as frightening as places like Iniquity in Grelta, but Marai didn’t have her black attire to hide amongst the shadows. She missed the weight of her cloak on her shoulders; the anonymity of her scarf. She hurried along, avoiding eye contact with the people in the streets. No one approached her, but she was ready with Dimtoir if they did.
In a dark side street, a breeze lifted the hair on the back of her neck. The air shifted, and Marai scented blood. She halted and placed her hand on her hilt.
“Right on time,” she said to the shadows, which moved and came closer, forming the shape of a man. The hood of his cloak was down, revealing his long roped hair. Crimson eyes, two beacons of doom, glowed in the dark.
“You said three days. I keep my promises.” Nosficio flashed his fangs, nostrils flaring. “You smell like lavender and summer storms.”
“What does Queen Nieve say?”
“Don’t you think I should give her response directly to the prince?” Nosficio asked. He removed a letter from within his cloak. Marai spotted the blob of red wax with the royal seal of Grelta: a giant bear wearing a crown.
“You want to enter the castle?” Marai asked. “Not a chance. Give me the letter, and I’ll bring it to Ruenen.”
Nosficio returned the letter to his cloak. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” The vampire stepped closer, his hair swishing in the breeze, reminding Marai of the ropes binding the bridges of Cleaving Tides. “You had me run to the damned freezing North and back, risking life and limb to get your prince’s request to Nieve. I’m fully invested now. And you’re going to need me.”
Marai scowled. “What are you going to do? Glide through the front door?”
“Where’s the prince’s chamber? I’ll meet you there.”
Marai hesitated. Revealing the location of Ruenen’s room to a vampire he’d previously staked was a poor decision. However, Nosficio wasn’t going to give her the letter voluntarily. She could fight him for it, but he was right . . . they were going to need him again.
She quickly gave him directions to her room within the castle. Nosficio promised to meet her there, then disappeared in a dramatic swirl of his cloak.
Marai found Ruenen in the private dining room, eating alone at the table. He sagged in his chair, hand over his eyes. At the sound of her purposefully loud footsteps, he brightened.
“Thank Lirr you’re here,” he said, pushing out the chair next to him with his foot. “Are you hungry? There’s enough here to feed an army.” He gestured to the four platters of food surrounding him.
“No,” she lied. She’d eaten only a little at the cottage, but the letter couldn’t wait. She’d swipe something from the kitchen before returning. “Our friend has returned with a response.”
Ruenen’s eyes opened wide. “And?”
“He’s meeting us in my room.”
Ruenen snatched the hunk of bread from his plate and stood. “Let’s go, then.” In the corridor, Ruenen gave Marai a shifty, nervous glance. “Was last night . . . okay?”
Marai avoided meeting his gaze. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You were gone before I awoke, and I haven’t seen you all day.”
“You know I rise early, and I was helping my family fix up the cottage. I wouldn’t have let you stay if I was uncomfortable with it.”
This seemed to ease some of Ruenen’s concerns. Marai’s stomach gave a loud growl then, and Ruenen handed her the bread from his dinner without a second thought.
“So . . . why the dress?”
Irritation bubbled under Marai’s skin as she bit into the bread. “Why is everyone so caught up on this horrid dress?”
Ruenen laughed. “Because it’s such a departure from your usual attire.” He leaned towards her. “It looks good.”
Marai’s cheeks burned as she scowled. They reached her room and she pushed open the door, more forcefully than intended. Nosficio leaned against the fireplace mantel with one arm, a silhouette of seductive promises. He’d taken off his cloak, revealing perfectly tailored velvet and brocade silk clothes in gray and black. The window on the far side of the room was open, curtains fluttering. He must’ve climbed through it somehow . . .
“Ah, Prince, felicitations on your mighty ascension,” Nosficio said with a flourishing wave, but didn’t bow.
Ruenen crossed his arms. “What does Queen Nieve say?”
“No ‘have a seat’ or ‘can I get you anything?’” Nosficio said, voice lilting with play. “That was a long trip and I’m exhausted. Any youthful servants nearby? I could use a snack.”
“Please, have a seat,” Ruenen replied, jaw tight.
Nosficio sat grandly in an armchair and crossed his legs. Marai and Ruenen sat together on the couch.
Nosficio produced the letter from inside his vest. “The she-demon nearly cut off my head when I appeared before her.” But Marai heard the affection tainting all his words. Nosficio admired that about the queen. “Once she calmed down, however, Nieve was very interested in you, dear prince. She read your letter several times, in fact. She asked me a lot of questions. Then she had several long, tedious meetings with the king and their advisors. And then she wrote you this.”
He finally handed Ruenen the letter. Marai tensed as Ruenen’s deft fingers broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. She leaned closer to Ruenen to read the elegant swirls of Nieve’s writing.
