Page 36 of The Nightshade God
“Didn’t do much good in the end.” Jean-Paul sighed. “When the King came calling, he knew right where to look.”
Bastian knew the way to the warehouse. Back then, he couldn’t guard his thoughts from Apollius.
Oblivious to her rapidly deteriorating emotional state, Jean-Paul gave her a wearily amused smile, like a man might wear at the gallows when he knew there was no escape. “You must have really done a number on him.”
Lore laughed, a ragged sound.
“But really,” Jean-Paul went on, achingly sincere. “You went from engaged to the Sainted King to a prisoner on the Burnt Isles. Whathappened, Lore?”
And how in all the myriad hells was she supposed to answer that?
She was all out of lies. She’d never been that great a spy, at least not at this level, doing anything more than petty subterfuge for warring criminal enterprises; she could see that now. And gods, she was so tired.
So she told him the truth. Kind of. “He… isn’t himself.”
“I suppose I’ll take your word for it.” He shook his head. “Though he’s certainly acting like an Arceneaux.”
“I guess none of us got far from where we started,” Lore said quietly.
“You did.”
Her brow knit.
Jean-Paul shrugged. “After that business with the horse—I still have nightmares about that thing, by the way—Val told me about you. Where you came from, what you were meant for.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “And you rose from that to become a Queen.”
“And yet here I am.”
“For now.” He nodded. “But if there’s one thing about you, Lore, it’s that you always land on your feet.”
She could only hope he was right.
“Well.” Jean Paul patted her shoulder with a bemused smile. “At least there’s no horses here for you to accidentally reanimate. That was a bit of a shock. Didn’t know you could channel Mortem until that day, and it was a hell of a way to learn.”
“Horse,” Lore said, thinking of the animal, how she’d always wanted his affection. How Bastian had gotten it, albeit after the beast was dead. Nuzzling the Sun Prince’s shoulder, his neck hanging open, still sweet even in death. Animals were less complicated than humans. They could come back.
BleedingGod, how she wanted to go back.
She didn’t realize she was finally crying until she felt Jean-Paul’shand on her shoulder again, drawing her attention away from thoughts of the past and to the wet slide of tears down her neck. And she was too far gone to swallow it back now; when she tried, she just sobbed, a grating sound that tasted like seawater.
Lore sat on the sand, burying her face in her hands. Jean-Paul lowered himself beside her, a solid arm over her shoulders. And she cried and cried and cried, while the other prisoners filtered around them, uninteresting rocks in a rapidly drying stream, hiding them from the eyes of the guards.
She only cried for about five minutes, but it was more than long enough to feel absolutely mortified once the storm of emotion abated. When she apologized to Jean-Paul, jumping up from the beach like something in the sand had stabbed her, he just waved a hand. “I’m used to parenting an eight-year-old. This is nothing.”
“I don’t think that’s a flattering comparison.” Lore wiped at her eyes. “But thank you, anyway.”
He glanced around them, a line of prisoners still waiting for the lifts. “I was under the impression we were supposed to mine while we’re here?”
“Stick with me,” Lore said. “If we find anything, we’ll share.”
And he did, staying by her side as they spent hours breaking apart rocks, collecting enough for them both to get dinner and for Jean-Paul, at least, to get a pallet. They didn’t speak, but his presence near her was bolstering. And no one approached to taunt her, which was a nice change.
When the day was done, they walked down to the barracks. Lore showed Jean-Paul where to pick up a pallet, explained the haphazard way sleeping arrangements worked. “I sleep in a cave. You’re welcome there, if you want.”
It might make sneaking away tonight harder, but Lore didn’t care. She’d wondered if she should tell Jean-Paul about the plan, about how she’d be gone in the morning. But she didn’t want tomake him lie if he was questioned. The less Jean-Paul knew, the safer he would be.
She half thought about asking him to come tonight, taking him to the Ferryman with her and Dani. But Lore still didn’t trust the other woman, and part of her half expected this Ferryman situation to be an elaborate revenge scheme. If it was, he’d be safer here.
“I’ll stay outside,” Jean-Paul said, making a face at a large stain on his pallet. “Small spaces make me nervous.”
