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When Alie looked over her shoulder, there was no flush of anticipation on her face. Just resignation and a spark of wariness. “To see the Kirytheans,” she said quietly. “To see just how big of a mess Bastian has made.”
Oh.
She looked so fragile, standing there all alone. There was a tiredness in Alie’s eyes that Lore hadn’t noticed before. It reminded her of Bastian, a little. When had they all become so exhausted?
She strode up, took Alie’s arm. “I’ll come with you.”
“Lore, you don’t have to—”
“I won’t mess anything up, I promise.” Now that the idea had come, it wouldn’t easily leave, and Lore realized that she deeply didn’t want to go to Bastian’s apartments just yet. She needed a moment, first. And she didn’t want Alie to do this alone. “They don’t even have to see me. I’ll stay back, won’t make a sound.”
She wanted to object, Lore could see it in her face. But Alie didn’t want to be alone any more than Lore did.
Alie nodded.
Lore had never been to the holding cells. Now, walking down the stone stairs that led to them, she realized how ironic that was. Anton had threatened her with them when she first came to the Citadel, but with hindsight, she thought the threat was probably empty. He needed her close to Bastian so their opposite powers could coax each other out. The damn Law of Opposites.
For what was ostensibly a dungeon, the corridor to the cells was well-kept. There was no dampness to the stone, and though it was cold down here, it was a welcome respite from the heat outside.
One bloodcoat stood guard at the end of the empty corridor, in front of a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron bars. He’d been told to expect visitors, apparently, but when he saw that one of those visitors was Lore, his eyes widened.
“The King asked that Her Majesty accompany me,” Alie said smoothly, already slipping into her diplomat self. “To observe.”
Somehow, she managed to imbue those last two words with an air of mystery, implying that Lore was here for magic reasons. Overkill, maybe, especially when coupled with the Her Majesty, but the guard nodded and opened the door in a hurry. Lore tried to hold her head high and make her steps even and gliding. The stance did not suit her.
The room beyond the door was dark, lit only by one sconce, flame flickering low. With a squeeze of Alie’s hand, Lore settled her back against the wall in the corner, staying out of the ring of weak light. The barred doors to three cells lined the room, and it took Lore’s eyes a moment to adjust enough to see which were occupied.
The utter stillness of the inhabitants didn’t help.
In the center cell, Maxon sat on a bare cot, his legs crossed, his hands placed atop his knees. Lore couldn’t pick out his expression in the gloom, but what she could see looked serene. Her mouth pulled down, an involuntary lurch of disgust; something about that stance in this room, in these circumstances, felt extremely wrong.
Part of her expected the voice in her head to offer commentary. But It was quiet, though she could feel that alien consciousness listening. As if It was as baffled as Lore was.
It. She. Eventually, Lore would have to admit to herself what was living in her head, but now was decidedly not the time.
In the cell to the left, Caius stood, his hands clasped behind his back, his chin tilted up in a contemplative posture. When Alie closed the door—louder than she needed to—he was the only one that moved, looking at her over his shoulder. Maxon stayed where he was.
“Alienor.” Caius sounded as if he were greeting a guest to his home, not seeing an enemy diplomat in a glorified prison. “How kind of you to come see me. But alone? Surely Bastian would want you to have an escort.”
Lore shrank back against the wall.
“Bastian doesn’t know.” Alie’s voice was soft and breathy, on the brink of some overcoming emotion. If life had dealt her a different hand, she could have made an excellent actress. “I just wanted to make sure you were being treated well. It’s dreadful, the way he tossed you in here with no recourse, with no real proof. Even if the others think it’s necessary, I can’t abide it.”
A clever bit of work, there. Establishing that most of the court agreed with Bastian, that he was a ruler unquestioned, except by Alie. Making herself a safe place for honesty.
“I’ve heard stories of how interrogations sometimes go down here.” Alie let a tiny shiver work through her slender shoulders, took half a step closer to the bars. “Has it been awful?”
“Hardly,” Caius said, soft and warm, taking on the role of reassurance. “You’re the first person we’ve seen, in fact. It’s given us ample time for meditation and prayer.”
Alie was the first person they’d seen? Lore’s brow furrowed. She supposed it wasn’t that unusual for Bastian to wait a few days before sending an interrogator, but he’d seemed so convinced the Kirytheans were to blame for the explosion, she’d assumed he would want answers as quickly as possible.
Another small step closer to the cell. Alie’s back was to Lore, but she could hear the small smile in her friend’s voice. “Meditation and prayer? I didn’t realize how pious you were, my lord.”
“Auverraine is not the only country Apollius favors.” For the first time, there was a bite of venom to his words, a fierceness to his smile. “The whole world is His kingdom.”
“Of course.” It almost pained Lore to see Alie act like this, even though she knew it was all for show. Meek and obliging, her innate kindness become something to be trampled on. “It must be hard to keep faith, when you’re treated so unfairly.”
“We submit to Apollius’s will, whatever it may be.” Caius stood very close to the bars, now, close enough that he could reach out and touch Alie with no problem. His hands stayed respectfully at his sides. “There is freedom in it. You’d find great comfort in bending to His will, Alienor.”
