Page 12 of Revealing Fate

Cinah nodded. “As far as I know, yes. They’ve been scouring the streets for him, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. He’s a wily bastard, but there are only so many places he can hide in Asteros with this militia. Domitan sent hunters outside the city. We can only hope Kal has managed to stay ahead of them.”

Relief washed over her in a frigid wave. Thank gods.

“When, Cinah?” she said. “I’m ready.”

He nodded seriously. “Good. You leave in a few hours.”

Santhe grabbed a fresh pair of travel clothes from a drawer. Her only pair of shoes was in the other room, against the wall. She mentally ran through a checklist to be sure there truly was nothing else they might need. She just⁠—

Wait.

Her hand stilled on her cloak. She turned. Cinah was still sitting on the edge of her bed, hands resting in his lap.

“You mean we leave in a few hours.”

“I need you to find Kal, Santhe,” he said. There was something about his tone. “My man can get you as far as Red Rock Pass. Beyond that, it’s a straight shot to Stillwater Wood. Get inside the forest, and you’ll be beyond the crown’s reach.”

Santhe stepped toward him, disbelief morphing into something hotter. Her hand trembled, but her voice was steady. “You mean we. We leave tonight. We need to find Kal. We, Cinah. Not me. We.”

Cinah stood then and stepped toward her. She frowned, not liking his posture. Not liking the sorrow and finality that poured out of him. The apology…

“No,” she said, backing up and bumping her wardrobe.

“This is important, San. Domitan’s guards saw a man helping a Fate escape the night Kal was supposed to meet Railah.” He paused, insinuation heavy. “A man matching Kal’s description. He killed two soldiers in the street.”

Disbelief colored Santhe’s features. But how? It might have been someone else. Could have been anyone else.

“The woman was wearing a Fate’s cloak. They escaped to Brune’s,” Cinah said, intuiting her reluctance and doubling down. “That stable was nigh unviable. You cannot think their sheltering there a coincidence.”

Santhe tried to formulate an argument, dread crawling through the haze of her thoughts. “But…your message…”

“Just because my message never reached Railah doesn’t mean a Fate wasn’t taken. I haven’t been able to verify the details, but whatever Kal did, whoever he took, it prompted the king to ready his army.”

“But—” she tried again.

Cinah’s visage turned imploring. “Santhe. You must reach Kal. He needs to know that he took the wrong woman, if he doesn’t already. He needs to know Domitan is preparing for war.”

She shook her head. She didn’t care. Didn’t care about Kal or the woman he took. Didn’t care about the crown or danger or Cinah’s man or how far he could take her. None of it mattered if Cinah wasn’t coming, too.

She dropped the cloak. Put the clothes back in their drawer. “No,” she repeated.

Cinah picked up her cloak and held it out to her. “You must, Santhe. It’s been arranged. You have to leave tonight. I may not have another chance at this.”

She refused to take it. “You are not my master, Cinah Creed. You cannot command me. If you’re not coming, I’m not going anywhere.”

Cinah tossed the cloak on the bed and ran a frustrated hand over his thick, cropped curls. Santhe had never seen him on the brink of losing his composure. He was always calm. Always collected. Tired, yes. Worn? Absolutely. But never uncontrolled.

Kal was always the one who pushed the limits. Toed the lines. Not Cinah. Never Cinah.

“You must,” he implored again.

Santhe stood her ground. “No.”

It was too far. “Damnit!” he barked. “You stubborn woman!”

Santhe opened her mouth, but he grabbed her before she could formulate her defense. His hands clamped down on her arms, his grip firm but not painful. He was angry, but worse than that, Santhe could see the terror that lurked behind his dark eyes as he assessed her.

The anger lasted but a moment before it fled him, leaving only fear. His hands moved to cradle her face, and he rested his forehead against hers.