Zafir appeared bored, his brown eyes glazed over. Claude looked incensed, as if he’d like to personally snap every neck in the room.
I was suddenly self-conscious in their presence, knowing they were still unaware.
“You could have hurt her,” Xander continued, treacherously quiet. “I expect you to protect her with your lives. All of you.” And then he said the words that made my stomach twist. “As if you were protecting your future queen.” He reached Eden and lifted his fingers to her cheek, the ropy muscles of his forearm visibly tense. He ran his hand along the side of her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Do I make myself clear?”
Jumbled emotions surrounded her like a thundercloud: fear, regret, devotion, and something that felt unexpectedly close to passion. A tear slipped from her closed eyes, cutting a path down her face. She nodded, opening her black eyes once more and staring, not at Xander but past him, to where I stood.
“I understand,” she vowed, swearing her fealty to me.
“How is this possible? She’s a simple merchant girl you met in a club.̶ J be A.̶ J1; Claude raised his voice, shouting now in the Royal tongue. He had refused to look at me since Xander’s men had holstered their weapons. Since Xander had dropped the bomb about who I was.
Zafir seemed more open to the idea. “How do you expect your grandmother to react when she finds out?”
The reminder that Queen Sabara—the woman who Xander and his revolutionaries were waging war against—was Max’s grandmother was jarring. It was something I shouldn’t forget, I told myself. I had no idea where Max’s loyalties lay.
“She’ll be thrilled,” Xander interjected. “Why shouldn’t she be? Charlie could be the heir she’s been searching for, the one her own family was unable to provide. And I intend to make certain the old woman never gets her hands on her.”
Zafir tipped his head, as if accepting Xander’s cryptic statements. I, however, remained in the dark.
I glared at them all, unable to keep my opinion silent any longer: “I have no intention of taking the queen’s place.”
Only Claude and Zafir reacted to my interruption, reminding me that they were still unaware of my ability to comprehend the Royal tongue.
“She interprets?” An expectant smile lit Zafir’s stony face.
“She does,” I replied tersely, as if he’d been speaking to me.
He hadn’t been. “What else can she do?”
Max answered. In Englaise. “Nothing that she’s aware of, but time will tell.”
It was the first time I’d considered that possibility, that I might be capable of more than just deciphering the languages of others.
“What of the child? Has she displayed a proficiency yet?” This was Claude, sounding irritated by the discovery. The only difference was that he addressed me directly.
“No.” Max shook his head, and I guessed that he’d taken my silence when we were at my house as a denial.
Xander draped his arm around Eden’s neck. It was a brotherly gesture—like comrades—and I wondered how long they’d been fighting together. “We need to figure out what our next step will be.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “I, for one, think it’s time to let Sabara know we have Charlie.”
“What about my parents? And Aron?” I cried, tired of being spoken about as if I were livestock, cattle for them to do with as they chose. “We need to get them back.”
Xander’s expression turned serious, and his words were callously indifferent. “It may already be too late for them. They can’t be our concern right now,” he explained.
“No, no, no! You don’t get it!” I shook my head, crossing my arms defiantly. “They are your concern.” I glowered at him and at Eden, and then turned to face Max. “Do you think it’s too late? Do you?” I demanded.
Max moved toward me. “I don’ J be A#8217; Jt think they’re dead, if that’s what you’re asking.” He frowned, watching me intently, his intense gray eyes boring into me, delving into my psyche and searching for cracks in my spirit as if the weight of this bit of information—or the next—might be too much. “But my grandmother is ruthless, and if she thinks there’s even a chance they might know where you are . . .”
I spun on Xander once more, not wanting Max to finish his sentence, or even to contemplate the words he hadn’t said. “You see? They’re alive,” I rasped, demanding that he pay attention to me. “I need to go there.” Then to Max, I said, “I need you to arrange a meeting with your grandmother.”
“It’s a bad idea, Charlie,” Xander explained to me, and I took it as a good sign that he was no longer shouting at me. “Sabara can’t be trusted.”
“You can’t reason with her,” Claude insisted, repeating the words he’d already stated several times.
“They’re right, Charlie,” Max agreed. “She’s both my queen and my grandmother, and I don’
t trust her. She’ll say, and do, almost anything if it means getting her way.” He reached for my hands as if somehow he could convince me through his touch.
I was tired of having this conversation. They were my parents—what was I supposed to do? I withdrew my hands, watching as his fingers slipped through mine. “I have to,” I whispered. “Please, just make it happen.”
Xander tried once more. “What if I refuse to let you go?” But there was no real weight behind his words now.
I bristled at the idea. “What choice do you have, really? You need my cooperation, and unless you help me get my parents . . .” I let the meaning hang between us.
His eyes warmed, even as his brows drew together. “So are you saying we have your cooperation? That you’ll agree to be our queen?”
“I’m saying that you’re guaranteed not to have my cooperation if you don’t help me.”
Xander beamed at me. “Already I see a promising negotiator,” he lauded me, and I recognized the cunning behind his carefully chosen words. He’d missed his true calling, I thought. He should have been a diplomat. “You’ll make an excellent queen.”
XIX
“There are things you should know, then, if you plan to actually meet her in person,” Xander explained, and I wondered why it was Xander offering this lesson and not Max or one of the royal guards. Surely they had more firsthand experience. Yet they seemed satisfied to let Xander take the lead in this instance.
“She’s cunning, deceptively so. Don’t allow her feeble appearance to fool you into believing otherwise. And she’s brutal, don’t ever forget that.” He paced, and I had difficulty following him with my eyes. He was making me dizzy. “I’d feel better if we all went with you. I’d rather you not be alone with her.”
“What if she doesn’t agr Knyesee to meet with us?” Max questioned Xander.
Xander dismissed the notion with a wave. “Of course she’ll want to meet with Charlie. She’s been planning this for years.”
Max was as uninformed as I was, it seemed. He shook his head. “How would you know what she plans?”
“I know more than you realize. More than anyone else, probably.” He laughed derisively, yet no one challenged his statements. Still, I was baffled by how this revolutionary had such intimate knowledge of our country’s ruler.
He stopped pacing and stood before me. He stared down at me with such a familiar tenderness that I nearly forgot into whose eyes I was looking. I blinked as I realized that it was Xander—and not Max—gazing at me with such intense adoration. “She means to force a promise from you, to share the throne.”
“That makes no sense,” Max finally interrupted. “How can she expect to co-rule? Loyalties would be divided. How would disputes be settled?”
“Her magic is ancient—she’s much older than the body she inhabits. This is not her first time on the throne.” Xander’s story sounded like a child’s fancy, but still, no one disputed him.
“What is he talking about?” I asked, turning to Max instead of Xander.
But it was Zafir who answered, his voice low and almost melodic. “He’s
right. The queen’s soul—her Essence, she calls it—has been passed from body to body since before she accepted her post on the throne of Ludania. Same ruler, different body.”
Xander took up where Zafir stopped. “She’s powerful, but she must have permission to make the exchange from one body to the next. And she’s desperate, she’s running out of time. She needs your approval before she can transfer her Essence to your body. Otherwise she’ll remain trapped in the body she’s in. If it dies, she dies.”
“Why my body? Why can’t she find someone else to take her place?”
The answer seemed obvious, but I needed to hear him say it. “Because your blood is royal. Because you’re the only female heir she can find.”
I frowned. “But am I really? I mean, my mother isn’t royal. And my father certainly can’t be full-blood, can he? How strong can my blood really be?”
Xander seemed to know everything, and he answered smoothly, easily, without hesitation. “It doesn’t work that way, Charlie. A female’s blood, no matter how far down the line, is as strong and pure as if she were born to the first generation of royals. Her gifts will be just as powerful as those of her ancestors.” He raised his brows, begging for more questions, but I had only one.
My eyebrows drew all the way down. “And if I were to accept this . . . this Essence . . . what happens to me then?”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Max interrupted, gripping my shoulders and forcing me to look at him. “Because you’re not going to do it. You’re going to tell her to go to hell!”
But Xander ignored Max’s outburst, giving me the only answer he had. “My best guess is that there’s room for only one of you in there.”
No one spoke again as silence ate up the air around us. The queen was going to try to bargain: my life for my parents. She was cunning, Xander had said. Well, I would have to be more cunning.
“Max is right,” I declared, snapping my chin up and making my decision. “She can go to hell.”
They were still arguing when I left them, as they tried to decide how best to get a message to the queen. Max wanted to go himself, to ensure there was no miscommunication in the missive, and to force a promise from the queen that I wouldn’t be harmed. But Xander wouldn’t allow it; he still didn’t trust Max. In the end, it was decided that Claude would go, but that he must take one of the resistance fighters with him. Which fighter was going was still up for debate.
Because we were underground, and darkness ruled, I had no sense of day or night as I made my way through the passageways, but I knew enough to realize I was aching and bone weary.
When I reached the chamber, Angelina was awake, and I wondered if she’d slept at all. I dropped to my knees as she rushed into my arms. She smelled like sweat and sleep and dirt, and I inhaled deeply as I pressed her close to me. Her luminous blue eyes belied the nights of fragmented sleep and interrupted dreams. Looking into them, it wasn’t difficult to imagine that she was someone special.
My eyes, on the other hand, felt gritty and tender, and I rubbed them with the back of my hand in an effort to keep fatigue at bay.
I glanced longingly at the pallet on the floor, at the pillows and the scratchy blanket. Brook took Angelina by the hand to find some breakfast, while I fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of soldiers and queens and lost souls.
It was the sound of water that woke me, the whooshing noise it made as it was poured from one vessel to another. It wasn’t loud, but I’d heard it nonetheless.
I blinked as I opened my eyes, hoping it wasn’t an illusion I was witnessing: the big metal tub with steam rising from it.
A bath. Someone had brought me a bath.
Eden held open the drape that had been affixed over the doorway, while two men carried in two more oversize buckets of water, adding them to the tub.
“Claude’s back. We’re leaving as soon as everyone’s ready.” Her black eyes met mine, and she raised one brow. “Xander thought you might want to get cleaned up first.” She turned to leave. “I’ll be right outside.”
“Wait! Where’s Angelina?”
Eden nodded, her countenance relaxed for the moment. It was easier to be around her when she was like this. She made me feel the same way, despite the fact that she’d just informed me I was about to meet the queen. “She’s already had her midday meal, but she wanted to stay and play with some of the children. I decided it would be okay. Time Jn Q Time Jcan move slowly down here with nothing to do.”
She was right, of course. I didn’t want Angelina to be stuck in this dark chamber all day. Or all night, whichever the case may be. “Okay,” I finally agreed.
The curtain fell behind her, and I eyed the water. Never had I imagined that a bath could look so enticing, especially one in a steel tub. But I undressed quickly and slipped beneath the water.
There was no soap, so I just soaked, enjoying the feel of the water over my bare skin. I felt bruises forming already on my ribs, from when Xander had slammed me to the ground, and I prodded them gingerly with my fingertips. It was a tight fit in the tub, and mildly uncomfortable, but somehow I managed to lean all the way back, drawing my head and face beneath the surface. I ran my fingers through my hair, scrubbing as best I could. It was like a bit of heaven.
When the water was too cool to bear any longer, I finally stood, reaching for the threadbare towel I’d been left. It was then that I saw a pile of clean clothes stacked neatly on the end of the sleeping pallet. My clothes, from my home. There was also a set for Angelina. It seemed a dangerous risk to send someone back to our house for fresh clothing.
I dried and dressed quickly, sitting on the edge of the pallet as I toweled my hair and used my fingers to comb through the tangles.
It seemed like a lifetime since I’d been both clean and rested—luxuries that I’d taken for granted my entire life. It was hard to imagine it hadn’t even been two days since the night of the attacks.
A soft tapping came from outside the doorway. “Charlie?” It was Max’s voice, and I was suddenly aware of how very alone I was in here.
My pulse thrummed nervously throughout my body as I cleared my throat. “Come in.”
He stepped inside, and I smiled broader than I’d meant to. I wasn’t certain I wanted him to know how pleased I was to see him.
“May I?” he asked, pointing to the spot next to me on the pallet.
I nodded, my expression earnest, my heart racing as he sat down beside me.
“How are you holding up? You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I’ll be okay,” I insisted, but still, I bit my lip. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“Was Xander right not to send you? Can we—can I—trust you?”
His smile was unexpected. He reached up and moved a damp tendril of my hair from my cheek. “You can trust me, Charlie. And so can Xander, even when he makes me want to put my fist through his face. He knows as much; he just doesn’t want to admit it.”
His lazy smirk was pure enticement. I wanted to be immune to his brand of temptation, but I wasn’t, and I found myself leaning toward him. The lamp in the corner flickered, casting shadows over his face, changing shapes and colors, but no matter what dance they did, he was still beautiful to look upon.
His mouth inched toward mine, and I watch Jn Q watch Jed it, my gaze frozen on his lips, my breath stuck somewhere between my lungs and my throat.
“What time is it?” I asked, hoping it would stop him from coming any closer.
He smiled, and I could see his teeth, every detail, including a tiny chip that would have been indistinguishable from any decent distance. His breath was warm and smelled of promise. “Why? Is there someplace else you’d rather be?” His voice was rough and gravelly, and filled with something I didn’t quite recognize but that made my toes curl.
When his lips reached mine, my heart stopped beating, its cadence lost on our kiss. I closed my eyes, telling myself to pull away from him, but I wa
s incapable of following through with that one simple action.
It was tentative at first, just the slightest encounter of our lips as they brushed ever so lightly together. A feather’s touch . . . lighter even. My thready pulse spoke its own recognizable language.
But then I moved—closer, though, not away as I’d warned myself I should—answering his tender request with my own. Telling him that I wanted more.
His fingers laced through my still damp hair then, hauling me against him until we were chest to chest and mouth to mouth. I reached for his shoulders, clinging to him as I parted my lips, unsure of my actions, but needing to be closer. His tongue slipped inside my mouth, and my veins were infused with liquid fire, making me shiver with both need and fear.
Never had I wanted something so badly in all my life.
Never had I been so frightened of my own emotions.
I was still shaking when I finally turned my head away, ending the kiss. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. My lips felt swollen and raw, and achingly cold in the absence of his.
Max’s eyes were glassy, as I was certain were mine. I’d never seen the face of interrupted passion before, but without a doubt it was the look I was witnessing now. Disappointment weighed heavy in my heart.
He was quicker than I was to recover, and within moments he was breathing normally again. It made me angry that he could compose himself so quickly, as if he was well practiced in a skill that I was not. I glared at him, ignoring the stab of jealousy that such a thought had delivered.
“What are we doing?” I asked on a shaky breath.
“I thought we were kissing.”
“Shhh,” I insisted, covering his mouth with my hand and trying not to think of what that mouth had just done to mine. I didn’t want Eden to hear what he said.
“What’s the matter, Charlie? Are you angry that I kissed you? Or that you kissed back?”