for what you did. You hurt her like nothing else, and if I could I’d fucking stab you myself right now.”
“But she hurt Van too.” Holden surprised himself by speaking. “He thought—she told me she loved me. Everything I made her do pointed to her betraying him.” He couldn’t watch her as he said it, ashamed that he’d been that man once. Clipped Josie’s wings, tried to tame her. No one could, and he’d almost killed her by trying. He wasn’t going to do it again with Tallia.
“He didn’t trust her. Why should she trust him now? Ever? What makes him any different to all the other racks just trying to get in her breeches and prepared to say anything to do it? I told her, told her again and again, that Van was nothing but trouble for her, that she couldn’t trust him, but she wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t hear a word against him. Until now, now maybe she will, because he’s proved himself an untrustworthy rack through and through, who thinks of no one but himself.”
“Enough!” Van’s voice was rough and cracked. “Please, enough. I know what I did. I know what I have to make up. Why did she get you to send the note?”
“Didn’t say. I just brought the note and hoped she’d get you good. Or that I’d get a crack at you with my gun.”
“Why does it matter to you?” Holden asked, and again, when he looked at her he was reminded somehow of Josie, despite their different looks.
It was the air of confidence, the way they appeared to have control of any situation, even when that situation should mean they were at the disadvantage. Josie facing up to Skrymir while she was in shackles, looking up at him, insulting him as though she was free, as though she had a knife to his groin and every kind of jump on him. Tallia wasn’t so obvious, not so wild or brittley sharp, but it was there, a subtle riptide lurking under the surface, waiting to drown the unwary.
The way she was glaring at Van Gast, insulting him as though she was free… It wasn’t much, but something, something in her reminded him of his dreams when he was young. Of freedom, of the uncatchable moon and wild winds, of far horizons and no ambition but to see what lay beyond.
Holden asked a question he thought he might know the answer to. “How do you know Josie?”
Van Gast had been pacing in the small space but now he stopped and rattled the bars of the brig. “Does it matter? We came down here for one thing, and one thing only. What do you know about a man called Rillen?”
“Nothing I’m going to tell you. Except…except Josie’s been friendly with him. Very friendly.” She smiled at Van Gast, all smug as a well-fed cat.
Van Gast twitched at that, but his voice came measured enough. “Fine. Be stupid. Stay in the brig. Don’t help me find whoever’s fucking me over, and maybe fucking Josie over too.” He leaned in, so that only the bars and a few inches of air separated them. “I don’t know who you really are, and it probably doesn’t matter, but I am going to prove to her that she can trust me. I’m going to have her say it, just once, that she loves me, even if it kills me. If she kills me. It’ll be worth it. And I’m going to find out who’s the traitor round here, who’s playing us both around, and then I’m going to kill them.”
With that he dumped the lamp, turned on his heel and stalked up the steps. Tallia watched him go, her head cocked as though she’d seen something she didn’t expect.
“Rillen’s one of the Yelen’s sons,” she said to the empty air. “A cruel bastard, the cruelest, and one to beware of. He keeps the dungeons, and what’s kept there. And he hates Van Gast with a passion. He’s not the only one.”
Chapter Thirteen
Van Gast stilled the flutter in his stomach, tried the same for the itch in his chest but nothing would shift it. He was dressed in the finest merchantman clothes Guld had been able to find. A light frock coat in muted gold and green, a shirt with a ruffle down the front that tickled his chin, slim-fitting breeches in a pale brown and new boots to match. He kept his bells though—he’d go nowhere without those, and besides, many a