Page 23 of Queen of the Night
“Other side.” His voice is deep and holds a note of humor, and my cheeks warm.
I avoid his gaze and purse my lips. I try to not be awkward as I fumble around the other side before feeling a small book beneath my fingertips. I yank it out as if he’s burned me.
Ikar returns to cleaning the birds as if he wasn’t affected by our nearness at all. It appears I’m the only one who struggles to maintain a professional relationship at this point. That sour thought has my lips pressed together.
Tufts of feathers poof into the air as he says, “I figure I can share more detail now that you’re officially on this journey with us. But remember that included in the contract was a confidentiality notice. You agreed not to tell anyone what you helped us find, where we found it, or what it’s for.”
I nod, feeling a little nervous now. The journal feels like a hot coal in my hands.
“Good. Turn to the page I’ve marked—its corner is bent. Two pages after that is a drawing of the flower we search for.”
Bent corner.I open it to find scrawling aged handwriting filling every bit of the pages in neat, faded lines.Flip two pages.I suck in a breath and almost die. A drawing of the flower that is clearly marked at the base of my neck stares up at me.
Ikar glances up at me momentarily, still busy with the birds. “You found it. Do you know what that is?”
Do normal people know what these are nowadays?
I swallow. “It looks like a… flower” —my voice catches— “…of some sort.”
“A black tulip,” he says in a no-nonsense way.
I’m screaming inside. I close the book shakily, slowly, trying to act cool—bored, even. But it’s hard when I can hardly draw a breath as panic squeezes my lungs.
“It’s pretty, but what’s it for?” I ask, my voice a little higher than it should be.
Ikar smiles sardonically. “What you really want to ask is why would a king risk some of his highest officers and a powerful originator’s lives to find one?”
“Yeah, that.” I try to smile normal, but it feels unnaturally tight.
“You’ve heard of the Queens of the Night.” He looks up as he states it. It’s not a question.
“Everyone has.” I shrug a shoulder and act like it’s common knowledge, but it doesn’t relieve the suspicion in his blue eyes.
For a moment, I worry he suspectsmeof being a Black Tulip, but then I remember he has always suspected I know something since I destroyed the list of names. Now I’ve unknowingly reopened that awful conversation. IknewI shouldn’t have asked questions.
“Well, finding one of them is the next step on ourmission. The king plans to bridge to restore lucent. He’ll need the black tulip flower and a Queen of the Night to do so. It might be the only way to save our kingdom.”
I freeze inside while the words he just spoke sink in, pushing me past the point of coherent thought as the world around me blurs.
The Black Tulips’ worst nightmare comes to pass, and I’m supposed to help with it.Somewhere far away, I hear a splash in the river, birds calling, Rupi tugging at my earlobe.When did she arrive?Ikar’s standing now, the birds cleaned and ready to cook, lying nearby. His hands are washed clean with his sleeves still rolled up and revealing his forearms—one of my favorite looks on him. I float on the distracting thought, staring at his corded arms, allowing shock to dull my senses.
“—list?” he asks.
“What?” I jerk my gaze to meet his.
He smiles, somewhat confused by my behavior. “I asked if you can tell me what you know about the list of Black Tulips, the one you ruined when we first met? Do you know any of them?” He smiles casually, but the look in his eyes reminds me of a stealthy predator.
The dratted list that started all of this.
I still haven’t spoken, so he continues. “Now that you trust me and know my mission, I’m hoping you’ll share what you know. It could make a big difference.”
Now my hackles rise, his assumption stretching too far, my emotions too battered.
“I knowyou, but I don’t know the king and I don’t trust him or—” I almost sayoriginators, but that would blow my cover, so I press my lips shut before the word comes out—barely catching myself.
“—or who?” Ikar asks.
“Anyone. I don’t trust anyone,” I say flatly.
