Page 24 of Between Smoke and Shadow

The servants, each carrying an overflowing tray of dishware, don’t acknowledge us. They move silently around the table, placing wrapped silverware to the left of each menu. When a young servant lays my silverware, he glances at me. It’s quick, almost unnoticeable, but I’m watching for it. And there, beneathhis flimsy mask, stretched across his pronounced bones, pure hatred radiates from the boy.

I wonder what he’d do if he weren’t trapped. Would he hit me? Try to kill me?

If I were brave, I’d find a way to help him. I wish he knew I’m trapped too.

The boy turns away, back to the kitchen.

Tora jabs her elbow into my side, and I startle.

“What?” I snap.

“Listen. You can’t start anything with Malek tonight,” she says, eyes watering. “I know you want to, and believe me, I do too. But he’s scheming to take your throne. Don’t fall into whatever game he’s playing.”

“That girl will be put to death,” I say, whispering when I’d rather yell. “That’s not a game. She’s going to die for something weallknow she didn’t do.”

“I’m just saying?—”

“You’re saying I should let him get away with it to protect my crown,” I interrupt. “That’s pathetic, Tora.”

Her eyes flicker to her lap. She wipes each eye, hard and fast, like she’s angry for crying. Pain slices through my stomach. I meant what I said, but I should have kept it to myself. Tora isn’t the enemy here.

“Tor—”

“It is pathetic,” she says, looking back at me. Her eyes are rimmed with red, dark makeup smudging her cheeks. “It is pathetic to let your brother get away with murder, but it is also your best option. I’ve thought about it all day. If Malek steals your throne…he’ll kill far more than one innocent.”

“Malek willneverget the throne,” I snarl. “It’smine, and his games aren’t going to change that.”

“But he wants it,” she says. Her voice falls low again. “And what Malek wants?—”

Tora cuts off as the door crashes against the wall. Malek strides into the room, as if he was listening for the perfect moment to enter. I tense, lip curling as he struts to the seat on my left. He grins and glances between me and Tora like we’re all playing the same game.

“Brother, sister,” he says, dropping into his seat. He knocks over the empty stein at his setting. “Why the glum faces?”

I relax, only slightly. At least he didn’t hear our conversation. The last thing I need is for Malek to think Iamconcerned he’ll steal my crown.

“Leave it alone, Malek,” Tora says, leaning across me to straighten his stein. She’s always been the buffer between me and Malek, but it worked better when we were kids. Now she’s several inches shorter and sixty pounds lighter with watered-down magic. If she tries to keep us apart, she’ll only end up hurt.

“Harrick, do you recall whether we’re doing combat or powered training tomorrow?” She keeps her voice airy, even manages a smile.

I lean back in my chair, ignoring Tora as she attempts to distract me. I can sense Malek’s taunting grin, his desperation for a fight. If I lunge now, no one will?—

The door opens again, this time softly, as Mother and Sorace enter the room. My cousin—second or third, I can’t remember—looks the same as he always does. Slicked black hair, upturned chin, and an overly pressed violet suit.

“Thank you for having me,” he says, glancing between us. His voice is clipped and proper, like he’s reading a prepared speech. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

My stomach clenches, and Tora touches my elbow. Images flicker through my mind, turning everything to mush. The red-haired servant, looking more shocked at the vial than anyone. Rune’s attempt to help, and the way she looked at me when I finally moved out of her way. Disgusted, as if I was a monster forstopping her. Malek’s knowing smile, his daring eyes. The life of an innocent. The death of thousands.

Mother calls for the first course of food, and I focus on the servants as they move around the table. I wonder if they are terrified to be so near Malek. They have to know one of their own was framed. They have to know Malek ruined her, simply because he could, and that he could ruin them too, if he wanted.

Aside from Sorace’s compliments on the broiled crocodile,his favorite, we eat in silence. I’m not hungry, but I gorge myself to keep from acting impulsively. It’s the only reason Malek doesn’t end up with my knife in his throat.

Once the servants clear the plates, Sorace pulls a stack of folded parchment from his coat pocket. I’m not surprised, but my dinner still presses against my throat. I should’ve known better than to overeat. Now I’m going to vomit before this conversation is through.

Sorace lays six parchments across the table, each one bearing the information of a different servant. Six women and girls stare up at me, their skills listed beneath their pictures. I’m not sure how, but I know she’s in the lineup before I see her.

Rune Ealde. Indebted servant. Currently assigned to Lady Saskia.

I reach for her profile, but Malek is too quick. He swipes all six off the table, flipping lazily through them.

---