Page 48 of Vilest Things
Calla doesn’t answer immediately. When he looks to her, she’s staring back at Otta, the displeasure in her eyes as bright as burning torchlight. He wouldn’t put it past her to create conflict at the first opportunity. Calla brought alongmerely one attendant for staff. She showed up at the wall wanting to bring hercattoo, before one of the Weisannas put down their foot and said it was a security hazard, to which Calla only rolled her eyes and pointedly asked a palace attendant to “take Mao Mao back and feed him some steak for the stress you’re causing him.”
“The flooding,” Calla finally says. Her tone is curt. “A natural buildup wouldn’t just clog a small part of the Apian Routes in the middle of Eigi. When we travel through the province, we’re moving on a decline. The north is lower than the south.”
Anton’s brow furrows. Heavens. When did Calla Tuoleimi have time to be studying the provinces like this while she was training to kill a king? He certainly didn’t pay enough attention during the academy to know this about Eigi.
“Floods don’t always follow natural inclines,” he says. “Maybe some farmers messed up the drainage. Or there’s too much dirt blocking the roadside. Some rural dwellers bury their dead by the Apian Routes thinking it gets them closer to their gods.”
“Sure.” Calla turns over her shoulder. Her eyes narrow at Councilmember Mugo, who walks nearby with his cellular phone pressed to his ear. He’s contacting his generals, gathering his soldiers stationed in the province. Eigi is his territory to govern, so he clamored to aid the delegation with security while they travel. “Or someone is trying to get us off route the moment we’re out of the cities.”
“Pray tell, why would they do that?” Anton asks. Despite himself, he sees Kelitu in his mind again. The attackers who barged in with knives. Their swift fury, cutting without hesitation until his parents were bleeding out on the hardwood floor. For so long, he had imagined this an inevitability, some tragedy that accompanied his family’s stature, yetall this time—
Calla staggers in her step. At first, Anton thinks she must be responding to what he said, but it would be bizarre to show such dramatics to a mildly sarcasticquestion. The moment he grabs her arm, catching her before she can slip from the crook of his elbow, Calla crumples fully.
He feels a thrum from her hand.
Her eyes aren’t merely bright from indignation. They’re…bright. Emitting light.
“Your Highness,” her attendant says sharply, breaking from the guard line and hurrying toward her.
“She’s fine,” Anton says quickly. He sniffs. It can’t be a coincidence that the smell of burning rubber is pervading the air around them now too. “Let’s get inside. It’s probably the elements.”
Otta steps in. “May I help—”
Anton tugs Calla away, avoiding Otta’s reach. She can’t see her like this. It’ll open a fucking giant can of worms. “No need. I’ll handle this.”
Before Otta can argue, he hastens their pace, drawing ahead of the Weisannas and practically dragging Calla forward. She walks as though she’s downed a gallon of wine. It would almost be impressive if she’d actually managed to smuggle that out, but unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case.
“Princess,” Anton mutters under his breath. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Councilmember Mugo hangs up his cellular phone to greet the soldiers stationed outside the gray building. Anton is already forging through the double doors, and Eigi’s base takes shape like a backward mirage. What seemed like a cluster of buildings from farther away is nothing more than an illusion when looking up close; he mistook these thin towers for full-bodied interiors. The base unfurls in a gaunt, serpentine manner, letting its operations thread around and about the compact spaces as an endless maze, just like San-Er.
“Your Majesty,” a soldier at the door says. “Lodgings are in the second wing—”
“I need a moment to speak with my advisor.” Anton pulls ahead, taking Calla with him. In the foyer, the cold gray outer appearance transforms. His muddy shoes touch down on plush red; the wallpaper glistens a midnight blue. It is still daytime, but the foyer is dark, illuminated by candles glued to the windowsill and lanterns at the center mantel. In their haste, Calla stumbles again, barely keeping her feet straight before she recovers. It must be disconcerting to show weakness before others, because Calla’s tone is wholly enraged when she hisses, “Your Majesty, you are yanking me around like a machine lever.”
“Well, Highness, you ought to keep up if nothing is wrong.”
Her hand thrums again. Stronger, this time. Anton pushes through a hallway, where he finds a low ceiling and a string of lights taped to the wall. Why would they have such varying sources of lighting, and what is thatyellow—
Anton’s gaze flickers to his side. A glow emanates from Calla. The cutting, hard citrine of her eyes, faintly changing the hue of the hallway.
“Great heavens, Princess—”
Anton hauls her into the first room he finds. Someone’s office, empty of life. The blinds are drawn tight, again creating the illusion of night with only a small electric bulb from the desk lamp. Though he makes the frantic effort to close the door behind him, it starts sliding on its own, clicking with a magnetic mechanism. Calla staggers away the moment he loosens his grip, preferring the table over his help.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“What the fuck didIdo?” Calla echoes. “Why don’t you ask your little lover whether she’s poisoned me?”
Anton frowns. Whatever this affliction is, it’s messing with her balance. Both her feet are planted firmly on the floor, yet her arm flails out, as though she needs the support to stop from falling over.
“Otta is capable of many feats,” he says, “but she wouldn’t resort to poison.”
“Oh,sure.”
