feel a stitch rip and blood trickle.
“Will you give your life in my name, should the time come, and fight for the survival and traditions of Puerto Leones?”
“I will.”
“Her hands can stand no further injury, Your Grace,” Justice Méndez interjects. Challenging the king once again in front of the court can’t be good for him. And yet, I can see the splinter in the king’s eye, the vein that throbs in his neck.
“You said her hands,” King Fernando replies, words as cold as the dagger he uses to slice a long cut across my chest. I suck in a breath, then bite down on the cold sting. “Break the skin and it will bleed well enough.”
The courtiers gasp, their voices buzz louder and louder, their fans move so quickly they could summon a hurricane. I don’t look to Leo or Justice Méndez.
“With this blood, are you the servant of the king, the justice, and the Father of Worlds?”
To spill my blood in the name of this man goes against everything I fought for.
I will never be as good as Margo or Dez.
But I am Renata Convida. And as I lean forward and let the cut over my left breast bleed at the king’s feet, I make an oath to myself, a silent vow between me and all who witness. I will find this cure. I will destroy it. Even if it takes every bit of my soul, I will destroy the king and justice.
My blood pools between us, and I answer, “I am.”
Chapter 15
Leo and I walk in silence down the corridor, through the two-way mirrored doors, and across the sky bridge. My nose is assaulted by the scents of the palace—warm bread wafting from the kitchens, wood burning in fireplaces, soap from sheets drying in a courtyard. How can such a dangerous place feel so comforting? To my right I hear tinkling laughter of what could be attendants having a moment of peace from their daily work or court ladies who spent the days taking sun in the labyrinthine gardens below. The day is too bright, and in this light the citadela to my left can’t hide the dirt that permeates its seams. Not even the rain can wash it away.
“Here,” Leo says, not breaking his stride.
I don’t want to look at him just yet, but I can see the handkerchief he holds out to me from the corner of my eye. It’s a useless gesture, as if a small square of fabric could mop up my blood-covered dress, but the kindness behind it is hard to dismiss.
A part of me so wants to like him, but the way the king asked for his advice was too familiar. I know that whatever I say to Leo is being reported back.
We take the grand winding stairs, and he fishes inside his pocket for the key. His body isn’t simply straight, it’s rigid, like he’s hiding something. He hasn’t looked at me since we left the throne room, and he hasn’t spoken a word other than here until now.
“Lady Renata,” Leo says. I’m in the center of this cavernous room filled with hand-carved tables, imported rugs and lace, crystal chandeliers, and fine silk sheets from worms in the Sól Abene provincia, and I’m dripping blood on the carpet.
“I told you not to call me that.” I hate how soft my voice sounds, like dust drifting across a beam of sunlight.
“I didn’t know—”
“Let’s not speak of this. I know the way back to my cage. You may go.”
“You don’t want to be called a lady, but you certainly command like one,” he says, attempting a crooked smile. Crooked smiles for crooked hearts, Sayida liked to say. “Now, please, we must get you bathed and dressed.”
“I took a bath yesterday,” I say, the thought of wasting more water absurd. I haven’t even run in muck or broken a sweat, and blood comes off easily enough.
“Justice Méndez has given me orders. You are to report to him for supper and training.”
I feel myself sinking. It’s like I’m not in control of my body. The weariness has seeped into my bones. For the second time today, Leo catches me.
“You don’t let people take care of you, do you?” he says sweetly.
Suddenly, I am that same child in the palace, that stupid, greedy girl, ignorant of what was happening around her. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to be anything. How long am I supposed to keep up the ruse of not