Page 27 of The Ashes and the Star-Cursed King

Let me help you. Let us help each other.

I told him to go fuck himself. I never considered taking the deal. I’d learned a long, long time ago the danger of someone offering you everything you’ve ever wanted.

But then he noticed Oraya.

And I still remembered the exact moment I knew he understood he could use her against me: that moment at the Halfmoon ball, when he’d called her by Nessanyn’s name.

I denied him right up until the end. Right up until he was dangling Oraya’s life in front of me. And then I broke.

When you’ve lived through certain things, you know how to recognize someone who’s desperate. Septimus, I knew, was desperate—in a dangerous kind of way, the kind he was very good at keeping far away from the surface. He’d do absolutely anything to get what he wanted, and what scared me was, I still wasn’t entirely sure what that was.

Desperation made for a terrible deal.

This thought was at the forefront of my mind as I sat in my office with him and Vale, listening to Septimus tell us, oh-so-casually, about how he couldn’t send Bloodborn troops to Misrada, after all.

Vale was not happy. He wasn’t bothering to hide exactly how not happy he was.

“That’s unacceptable,” he said.

Septimus’s stupid fucking face arranged into that stupid fucking smirk.

“I understand why you feel that way,” he said, “but the nature of the matter is what it is. I can’t bend time and space, sadly. Desdemona confirmed it multiple times. We just can’t get the forces there in time. We’ll have to make the move later.”

“So let me make sure I understand.” Vale leaned across the desk. “We now have to reschedule an operation that we’ve had planned for weeks on account ofyourshit generals’ poor foresight? With aday’snotice?”

Septimus’s smirk faltered. I’d noticed that he was perfectly happy to accept whatever insults you wanted to lob his way, but he didn’t like it much when you disrespected those who worked under him.

He let out a puff of smoke through his nostrils. “Myshit generalsare doing most of the work putting down this little rebellion of yours. Maybe if your own forces were willing to fight for you, it would have been handled faster.”

Vale looked like he was close to blows. Against my better instincts, I shot him a warning glance. Vale held that stare for a moment—fought it, because even after these last weeks, he still wasn’t really ready to accept me as his superior—before shaking his head and leaning back in his chair.

“This is what I did not miss about this job,” he muttered, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Working with incompetence.”

Septimus chuckled. Then his gaze slid to me.

“You’re terribly quiet, Highness.”

I had indeed been quiet. I’d been watching Septimus, thinking about this suspiciously neat little last-minute rescheduling of his. There was more to it than he was saying. I had no doubts there, even if I didn’t know how or why.

I’d been so busy thinking that I’d neglected my role. I wanted Septimus to keep on dismissing me as the brutish, Turned king. Let him keep thinking I was someone he could take advantage of.

My returning smile was more of a baring of teeth. “What would you like me to say?”

Septimus shrugged, as if to say,You tell me.

“Do you want me to bitch at you for your poor planning and your carelessness?”

Again, he shrugged. “If you wish.”

“Why would I waste my breath? I already wasted enough of it planning this offensive with you. Maybe I don’t feel like giving you any more of my time.”

He cocked his head, staring me down a little too thoughtfully for my comfort.

I sat up straighter. “I don’t see what else there is to talk about.” I waved my hand at him dismissively. “I have actual work to do, if you’re done.”

A brief, cold smile, as Septimus rose. “Quite done.”

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