Page 105 of Thief of Hearts

“I know that you are not Queen Thalia.”

Chapter Thirty-One

I ushered her into the room, hoping the guards down the hall hadn’t heard her, and shut the door.

“What did you just say?”

“Forgive me.” She walked to the center of the room, twisting the sleeve of her dress in her hand. “But you are not Queen Thalia.”

“What would make you say that?” Now my heart thundered for a completely different reason than it had moments ago. What would happen if she told the king?

“I was sent to Ilion as the king’s representative when Queen Thalia and King Alexandros celebrated the birth of their first child. I spoke to them both, gave them a gift.”

My eyes went wide and I looked at Zain over her head. What did we do now?

“I am not here to threaten or blackmail you,” she said. “I want to help you in whatever way I can. I want you to include me in the plans you are making.”

Clearing my throat, I said, “I don’t mean to offend you, but so far all my interactions with Epirians have been terrible.”

“We don’t seem trustworthy, but once we pledge ourselves to someone, that is set in stone. It never changes. And I do that now.”

She pulled out a knife and cut her hand, letting the blood drip to the floor. She got down on one knee, her head bowed.

“I swear, by the name of Eramis, that I pledge myself to you . . .” She looked at me to finish her sentence.

“Basileia.”

“I pledge myself to you, Basileia, and offer this blood as a symbol of that pledge. My loyalty will be to you. I will bleed for you. If I break that vow, may Eramis take the rest of my blood and consign me to an eternity of torment.”

I stood there, uncertain of what to say. She hadn’t even known my real name and she’d still pledged herself to me in an unbreakable vow.

And I didn’t understand why.

“Accept,” Zain said softly.

“I accept.”

Dione smiled and got to her feet. Zain gave her a cloth to wrap around her hand.

“Basileia is a Thracian name,” she said.

I took off the ring Zain had put on me and saw how big her eyes got when all my tattoos reappeared. I put the ring back on.

“But Thracians . . .”

“Are horrible, evil people that only care about the destruction of Epirius?” I offered. She nodded. “We have the same story in Thrace.”

The thought occurred to me that perhaps I should have told her I was Thracian before she made her pledge.

It was too late now.

She said, “I heard that the king wishes for you to find Eramis’s caduceus.”

“You heard.”

She nodded. “The only way to stay alive in a place like this is to have as much information as you can, no matter the cost.”

How had she come by that information? Had she bribed one of the concubines? The servants who had waited on us?