House of Secrets and Vows (Crown of Deceit #1)

21. The Red Raven

21

THE RED RAVEN

N ow that I’ve gained the prince’s trust, I’m that much closer to bringing him down, but every day I stay at the Solstice is another day I might be discovered.

I have no doubt after seeing Emeryn at the Legends’ Duel, the servant knows exactly who I am. What I'm not sure of is which identity is Emeryn’s masquerade. Perhaps, with time, I could figure it out. But revealing what I know about the servant will only risk my own identity being questioned.

I can only hope Emeryn feels the same way.

Blaise also has something on me, but what exactly it is, I have no idea.

The thin rope of my double life is slowly unraveling, but I can’t turn back until I reach the end and earn my revenge on those responsible for Aella’s death.

The carriage ride is smooth as the prince and I make our way from the palace into the heart of Valazica.

I peek out the small window into the calm night. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He grins at me.

The reasonable voice in my head keeps reminding me that going anywhere with the prince is wildly stupid.

We aren’t completely alone this time, though the driver hasn’t spoken a single word the entire ride as he leads the white stallion pulling the carriage along. And I have no doubt that, should the prince ask, the driver would drop us off anywhere, or that if the prince wanted to hurt me, he could kill the driver with ease.

But he hasn’t harmed me yet, and my time to find answers is running out. The only way to lure any information from the prince is to first earn his trust, and agreeing to this trip is sure to help.

And once I learn more about the House of Blood, I won’t need Nevan anymore.

When we finally stop, the prince hops out first then offers me his hand, and I exit the carriage.

The driver drops us off outside of a gray building with a crimson roof in the middle of inner Valazica where two-story buildings line the cobblestone street. While the buildings in the Silver District have a neutral color palette of cream buildings with rust-colored roofs, the Golden District’s scheme is much more varied, with brighter colored accents and far more plant life sprinkled around the buildings.

Nevan takes my hand as I step out of the carriage.

“Welcome to The Red Raven, the best lounge in all of Valazica,” the prince says.

People standing outside in a long line whisper as we enter, the guard in front of the door nodding as we pass.

I’ve been to lounges on resistance assignments before, but nothing like this one.

Unlike the taverns I’ve mostly patronized, this place exudes wealth. From the sparkling diamond chandeliers to the beautiful furniture made of white oak and upholstered with shiny satin material, no detail in this place has been overlooked.

The prince leads us to a booth in the back, where four people—two male and two female—argue about the color of one of the women’s shirts.

“It’s purple,” one woman says, tugging on the fabric around her torso.

One of the men shrugs. “Looks navy to me.”

“You’re clearly color-blind,” the woman retorts.

Nevan clears his throat.

The woman in the shirt that looks plum to me stares up and, when she sees us, claps her hands. “Nevy brought a friend!”

“A lady friend.” The man arches a brow. “The one from the revel.”

I bite my lip, wondering what he thought of my drunken exit.

The other woman is tall, with beautiful brown skin and piercing eyes. “You beat the challenges faster than anyone ever has.” She must have noticed my confusion because she adds, “You told me a secret.”

I recognize her Elderburnian accent. “You were in the bronze mask?”

“Guilty.” The woman shrugs.

Thankfully, she doesn’t share what that secret was.

“Everyone, this is Zariah.” The prince wraps his arm around my waist. “Zariah, these are my friends. Eilley, Lachlan, Phelps, and Nalanie.”

They each raise a hand or smile at their names.

“Welcome to the best gang in all of Valazica.” Eilley, who wore the golden mask, bumps her hip into Lachlan, who played the game of two truths and a lie. “Scoot over.”

He makes a face at her but obliges. Everyone crowds together to give Nevan and me space to join.

The prince sits first, leaving me the seat on the edge.

Eilley peeks around Nevan to look at me. “My shirt is purple, right?”

“Definitely.” I throw a wink at Phelps, who I now recognize as the man in the black-masked blade thrower.

Phelps leans back and crosses his arms. “You’re lucky you’re so good at throwing a blade, or I might make you pay for siding with the sprite.”

“I’d bet my money on Zariah even without a weapon,” Nalanie interjects.

Phelps only shrugs.

“We seem to have caught them all on a feisty night.” Nevan’s thigh presses into mine, his body heat warming me.

“Don’t pretend you’re not as spirited as the rest of us.” Eilley gives him a knowing glance. “Not that we see you much these days.”

All four of the others seem so calm and normal sitting with the Prince of Valazica. No one mentions his title or bows or offers any sign that he is anything other than one of the group. It's strange and yet, refreshing.

Lachlan offers to go buy a round of drinks, and once he is gone, Eilley slides into a story about a date she went on last night.

“My sister insisted I’d like the man, which only shows how little she actually knows me.” She huffs. “He did all the right things. Held the door for me. Paid for my food. Even walked me home without trying anything, but that was the problem. He was so boring . I even licked my lips and gave my best bedroom eyes. But he didn’t even hug me.”

“Maybe he just wasn’t that into you,” Phelps offers. “Not everyone wants someone so constantly perky.”

She gives him a vulgar gesture. “He sent me a note today asking to take me out again and wrote me a poem. Who writes someone a poem before kissing them?”

“He could be trying to be romantic,” Nalanie suggests. “Show he wants more than sex.”

“But a poem ?”

Soon, Lachlan returns with six delicate wine glasses balanced on a tray that he sets on the table. “I put it on the royal tab.”

At the first mention of his title, Nevan only shakes his head. “Gods know none of you are going to pay for it. To good friends.”

He grabs a mug and raises it.

“And even better alcohol.” Phelps gently taps his mug into Nevan’s.

I’m the last to take one, but as soon as I lift it next to the rest of theirs, we all give a cheer and drink.

The conversation moves to Nalanie’s last tryst.

“My lover was visiting Valazica for only a month,” Nalanie shares. “Her father was here on business with the king, but she rented an apartment in the Silver District so she could get to know the heart of the kingdom.”

“And did she write you poetry?” Eilley asks, her tone bitter.

Nalanie’s lips twitch into a seductive grin. “The only writing she did was with her tongue.”

Eilley only sighs and downs the rest of her drink.

After everyone has finished their first glasses of wine, Nevan leaves the table to buy another round.

“You and Nevan sure looked happy when you left the revel,” Eilley says. “He doesn’t usually take the fae brandy with the token earners. He must like you.”

“He seemed pretty bored.” I rest my hands in my lap, resisting the urge to fidget. “I think he was just wanting an excuse to get out of there.”

“Did he take you back to his room and ravish you?”

“Gods, Eilley,” Lachlan says. “We just met the woman. You really think she wants to tell you if she fucked our friend?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes.

“He showed me the haunted wood at the edge of the castle grounds,” I reply, ignoring all mention of ravishing and the sudden warmth it brings between my thighs. “We got some fresh air and then went to bed. Separately,” I add before Eilley can ask.

Lachlan glances at his empty drink. “You’ll get used to Eilley’s lack of tact. She’s nosy with everyone.”

“Not everyone.” Eilley glares at him. “Nevan has never brought a friend before. Forgive me if I want to get to know her.”

“He’s never brought a friend?” An unpleasant bubble of guilt rises up my throat at the thought. I shouldn't care. I made no promises to him. It's his own fault for getting involved with someone he barely knows.

I have no intention of joining his circle of friends.

“Nevan is quite private,” Nalanie says. “But we’re happy to have you here tonight.”

Nevan returns with another round of drinks.

Phelps shifts the conversation in another direction, going off about his overseer at the blacksmith’s shop.

The five of them seem so open, almost as if they are a family sitting around a dinner table. It's both strange and fascinating. I haven’t had family in so long, I’ve forgotten what it was like.

The closest thing I had was Aella, the thought of her tearing another hole in my heart. We talked about so much, sharing so many secrets with each other, including our involvement in the resistance. But there were things about me she never knew.

When he has thoroughly vented his frustrations, Phelps changes the subject again by asking me, “What’s your story?”

I swallow. “Me?”

“We already know everything there is to know about each other.” He shrugs as he glances at his friends. “But you are quite a mystery.”

“I’m boring, really,” I say, though with all the attention at the table fixated on me, I'm not going to get out of an answer that easy. I try to remember what cover story I gave before, but it's all a jumbled blur. “My uncle’s a merchant ship owner. I’m attending the Solstice in his place.”

“We don’t care about your uncle,” Phelps says. “Do you work? Do you hate potatoes? Have a deep, dark secret?”

In my peripheral, I feel Nevan’s stare on me, and I realize that these questions are for him more than anyone.

The bastard knew his friends would be nosy.

“I spend most of my time helping those in need. Potatoes are delicious. And I have a few deep, dark secrets,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. “But if I share them, I’ll have to kill you.”

I give a sly grin as I set my glass back on the table.

“Fair enough.” Phelps raises his glass to me and downs the rest of it.

Eilley gives Phelps a lecture about being nosy, and when she is done, Lachlan cuts in, “Did you hear about the attack on the brothel?”

“What attack?” Eilley eagerly leans forward.

Lachlan continues, “Evidence suggests the House of Blood ambushed them. Left only one survivor.”

“Gods,” Nalanie says. “They’ve gotten so bold, like they’re just asking to get caught.”

I watch Nevan from my peripheral, his attention no longer on me. His fists are clenched in his lap, all flickers of happiness washed from his expression. Is this really a surprise to him?

“Bastards.” Phelps shakes his head and glances at the prince. “Can’t the crown do anything?”

The muscles in Nevan’s neck tighten before he answers. “My father doesn’t want to use the resources it would take to stop them.”

“Does anyone even know who they are? The Houses are all so fucking secretive.”

“I’m not sure what my father knows.”

I admire the cleverness of his answer.

“Have any of the witnesses of the attacks come forward?” Nalanie asks.

Lachlan frowns. “All the survivors are too scared to talk. But most of the dead are drained of blood, and we all know just what monsters do that.”

Color washes from the prince’s face as he listens to his friends discuss the attack and the likely culprits.

What does he think of the slaughtering? Was he there? Is he responsible for any of the deaths?

Noticing the prince’s body language, Nalanie asks, “Are you okay, Nevan?”

“I just wish I could do something more to help. My father doesn’t give two fucks about random Valazicans dying. I’ve begged him to do something, but the only thing he’s done is increase the city guard, who spend more time arresting regular citizens than trying to stop the attacks.”

I try to stop the question from popping out of my mouth, but I can’t. “What if he knew who the House of Blood members were? Would he intervene then?”

“None of the survivors will name names,” Lachlan says.

I don’t pull my attention from the prince as I ask, “What if someone told him?”

His stare meets mine in challenge. “He still wouldn’t care.”

“But—”

“The House of Blood is purposefully targeting people the king doesn’t give a fuck about. They’re doing it to send someone a message.” Nevan stares at me, jaw clenched.

Eilley cuts in. “Who would they want to send a message to?”

The prince turns to her, hesitating as if coming up with some answer that doesn’t give away what he knows.

“Probably the other Houses,” I say, pulling everyone’s attention back to me. “I doubt the House of Blood enjoys being ignored all of the time because of its association with Malikar.”

“What do you know about the Houses?” Lachlan asks me.

“I’ve recently taken an interest in studying them.” I glide my fingers across the table. “Their influence in this kingdom is clearly growing. The attacks are just one example of their power play.”

Eilley offers Phelps the last half of her drink, and he finishes it in one chug and then sets the glass on the table with a clang. “It’s like a pissing contest. I heard that someone is paying a lot of money for information on the king.”

“What do you mean?” Nevan stiffens.

“People aren’t happy that we ended the war so abruptly and now the fae princess is here as some special guest.”

“They’d rather we still be in that pointless conflict?”

Nalanie gives the prince a soft look. “A lot of Valazicans lost loved ones in the war. They still struggle to put food on the table. Your father always blamed the war, but it’s over now and nothing was gained. There’s no hope that things will actually improve.”

Things haven’t gotten better since the war. If anything, with the House of Blood attacks and increased city guard, things have only gotten worse. That past winter was the coldest since the winter I came here.

The season came early, freezing fields of dead crops that the people were counting on. Shrines to the gods were made all over the kingdom, but it never helped. Nothing helped.

It never does.

“Somehow, my brother’s death convinced our father to invite Ameerah as a gesture to the fae that we want this peace to last. According to my brother’s men, it was why he wanted to visit Solendale himself. He thought he could prove that people in our kingdom can be kind and worth having as allies. The war didn’t help any of us. It wasn’t the sons of the nobles being sent to fight. It was the children of everyday Valazicans. This peace will help them.”

Nalanie reaches out and covers the prince’s hand with her own. “And once they feel relief, perhaps they’ll come around.”

It's strange to hear the prince speak so adamantly against the war. And the despair in his eyes looks genuine.

Eilley shifts the conversation back to her failed date, but the mood of the conversation doesn’t recover.

Not long later, Nevan suggests he and I return to the castle.

He's quiet as we leave the lounge and return to the carriage, and I wish I could read his thoughts. Had his earlier sentiments been true? Or are they simply just some mask he wears in front of his friends?

His emotion is hard to read, a strange mix of sadness, dread, and guilt.

Our driver excuses himself to the washroom inside of the lounge as I step into the carriage and take my seat for the ride back to the castle.

As I’m lost in my own thoughts, Nevan plops down next to me and asks, “What are you up to, Priestess ?”