Page 34 of Burning Her Beautiful
Corridors buzzlike storm-struck hives as nobles file out. Guards escort Sarivya away under pretense of interview; I glimpse her glare before she vanishes. Garrik approaches with a tight smile.
“Flawless,” he says.
“Seldom that simple,” I mutter, though I allow his praise to settle—brief warmth in cold veins. “Any backlash?”
“Most houses jubilant. Some fear retaliation from Velinth loyalists. We will double night watches.”
“Do.” I clap his shoulder and move toward Iliana. She speaks with Yalira, who folds the now-official evidence scroll with satisfaction. When she sees me approach, she excuses herself, leaving us in a niche of sunlit glass.
Iliana studies my hands. The cut on my thumb still bleeds slowly. She lifts it, pressing the wound between her own fingers, gentle pressure to stanch the flow.
“That was reckless,” she whispers.
“I prefer daring,” I answer.
Her lips twitch. “Perhaps both.” She draws me closer, though the hall still bustles behind us. “Thank you for trusting me with so many eyes watching.”
“You carried every note perfectly.” I lower my forehead to hers, ignoring the scandalized glances of two passing dignitaries. “Your strength steadies mine more than any rune.”
She sighs—a sound part longing, part warning—then steps back. “Rest while you can. Velinth loyalists will regroup.”
“I know,” I say, though exhaustion claws at my spine. “We meet in the strategy chamber at dusk.”
She nods and slips away, cloak swirling. I watch until the crowd swallows her, then exhale. Victory carries sweetness, but beneath it anxiety coils tight. Each triumph binds my fate to hers more publicly. Soon no deception will conceal the depth of my need.
Late-afternoon shadows stretchacross the courtyard garden where I sit with Chancellor Velyth. He pours bitter herbal tea, the color of moss, into two cups etched with the royal sigil. His eyes flick to the cut on my thumb.
“Blood in the weave,” he says. “A bold method.”
“Necessity.”
He sips, watching me. “The king will commend your spectacle, yet he will also note how swiftly Sarivya fell once you opposed her.”
“His Majesty desires stability. I delivered it.”
“For now.” Velyth sets the cup down. “Your attachment to the mortal grows more visible. Enemies will strike there next.”
I meet his gaze without flinching. “I am aware.”
“Then steel yourself. Emotion weakens shields.”
I incline my head but say nothing. His warning echoes in my own fear.
Night drapesthe tower when Garrik enters my chamber unannounced. He tosses a velvet pouch onto my desk. Small sapphires spill across the maps.
“Confiscated from the Velinth treasury,” he says. “Auditors discovered a deeper ledger. Sarivya will face exile.”
I nod, yet the news fails to lift the stone now lodged in my gut. “And Iliana?”
“Safe, for the moment. However, spies whisper of bounty hunters on the lower tiers.”
My fists clench. “Double her guard—discreetly.”
He pauses. “She will resent captivity.”
I glare. “No chains. Shadow shield only.”
Garrik bows, but his parting words strike like arrows. “You move heavens for her. Ensure she never becomes your sky’s collapse.”
