Chapter 4

Outside, the west gate screamed.

Not the metal. The stone beneath it.

"Move your hand," I snapped.

Rafe leaned over the table, one palm pinning the page, the other braced beside my hip. His body blocked the lanternlight. Heat pressed through my coat where his thigh brushed mine.

"Not until you tell me what this command costs."

"It costs you obedience. That's what soldiers get paid for."

His cold gray eyes locked on mine.

"My soldiers get paid in silver," he said. "Not years off your life."

Another cannon blast punched through the fortress.

The table jumped. Rafe caught my waist before I went over, his fingers locking hard through my coat.

For one stupid second, his breath touched my cheek.

Then dust rained from the ceiling.

I shoved his chest. "Let go."

He did. Slowly. His hand dragged over my coat before falling away.

"You wrote the command," he said. "Read it."

I snatched up the page.

The blood pact was written in my hand, but the ink wasn't black anymore. It pulsed dark red beneath the lantern, each letter tightening like a vein.

I read the first line. "By my blood, the western garrison holds until dawn."

"And the second?"

I swallowed. "By my blood, the garrison obeys my tactical command."

"The third."

"Rafe—"

"The third, Helen."

My fingers tightened around the page.

"The command may draw from the anchor blood of the bride who signs it."

His jaw locked. "There it is."

A horn blared from the lower wall.

The stairwell door flew open. Seren Quill came through with a sword in one hand and blood streaked across her cheek.

"West gate's split down the middle," she said. "Directorate cannons are firing through the ash trench. We've got maybe six minutes before the lower barracks go with it."

Rafe looked at me. "Cancel the command."

"If I cancel it, the soldiers lose the binding protection."

"Good. Then we pull them out."

"Through what? The collapsing gate?"

His mouth flattened.

Seren slapped a broken bolt onto the table. "They're using imperial anchor rounds. They aren't targeting the wall. They're targeting her."

Her finger struck my chest.

The red sigil beneath my collar burned through the fabric.

Rafe stepped in front of me. "Why would the Directorate waste imperial rounds on one woman?"

"Because she isn't one woman," Seren said. "She's the anchor keeping this fortress from dropping into the ravine."

My skin prickled.

I grabbed the map and spread it across the table. The western gate was marked with old red lines. Every line met beneath the fortress floor.

"They're firing at the foundation veins," I said. "The anchor blood runs under the gate and into the moat. Break the vein, and the whole west side folds in."

Rafe pointed to the map. "Then give me a command that moves the garrison."

"I already did."

"You gave me a command that spends you."

"Because I need you to listen."

His hand came down beside mine. "You need me alive. Don't confuse that with listening."

The fortress lurched again.

This time, the floor cracked.

A black line shot from the western wall toward the command table. It stopped inches from my boot.

Seren seized the nearest soldier. "Get everyone out of the lower barracks. Now!"

The soldier ran.

Rafe turned back to me. "Tell me the real plan."

"You won't like it."

"I already don't like your face on that page."

"Then stop staring at it."

His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second.

Heat climbed my neck. It had nothing to do with the burning sigil.

Of course he noticed.

"You blush when you're lying," he said.

"I don't blush."

"Your ears are red."

"Your fortress is falling apart. Try focusing."

A cannon fired.

The blast punched through the western wall. Black dust exploded across the room. Rafe wrapped one arm around my shoulders and dragged me against him before the stone could hit.

My back struck his chest. His forearm locked across my ribs. His heartbeat thudded through two layers of cloth.

"Don't move," he said.

"I wasn't planning to die under a table."

"For once, do what I say."

"Careful. That almost sounded like a husband."

His mouth came close to my ear. "Don't use that word unless you want me to act like one."

His breath warmed my skin. My pulse jumped beneath his arm.

I hated that he felt it.

The dust thinned enough for me to see the western map. The cannon crews had adjusted their angle.

The next rounds would hit the anchor vein directly.

I reached for the command knife.

Rafe caught my wrist. "No."

"If I redirect the vein, the rounds will hit the outer moat."

"And the cost?"

"A few years."

His grip tightened. "How many?"

"I don't know."

"Then you don't get to spend them."

I twisted against him. "You want your soldiers alive?"

"Yes."

"Then let me work."

"Give me a price."

"There isn't one."

"Every command has a price."

"Not one I can name before the blood takes it."

His stare sharpened. "That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

Rafe shoved the pact page toward me. "No unpriced command. I told you that before you dragged me into this marriage."

"You agreed to protect me."

"I agreed to protect you from the Directorate. I didn't agree to watch you cut pieces off yourself and call it strategy."

"You knew what I was when you signed."

"I knew you were desperate. I didn't know you were reckless."

The words struck harder than they should have.

I ripped my wrist free. "You married a woman the Directorate plans to execute. Recklessness is the whole arrangement."

For one breath, neither of us moved.

Then Seren shouted from the stairwell. "Another round loading!"

I drove the command knife toward my palm.

Rafe caught my hand before the blade touched the page.

His thumb pressed over my pulse. Warm. Steady. Infuriating.

"Helen."

"Get out of my way."

"No."

"Move."

"Give me the price."

"I can't."

"Then don't sign."

The cannon fired.

The floor buckled. Stone dropped beneath Seren's boots, and she caught the stairwell edge with one hand.

"Captain!" Rafe released me and lunged.

He grabbed Seren's arm and hauled her up as the broken floor tore open beneath them.

I saw it then.

The line beneath the fortress wasn't a vein.

It was a channel.

And it ran straight from the west gate to the old throne chamber under Hollowglass Bastion.

"Rafe! Don't pull her toward the center!"

He looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"The floor is feeding the throne chamber. The cannons are forcing the anchor blood down."

Seren kicked against the crumbling stone. "You have a better idea?"

"Yes."

I seized the pact page and dragged my bleeding palm across the map.

Blood raced along the ink lines.

Rafe's face changed. "Helen, stop."

"Take the garrison through the east passage."

"No."

"When the west vein opens, the moat will pull the impact away from the barracks."

"And you?"

"I hold the channel."

"With what?"

I pressed my palm harder against the map. "With the blood you keep refusing to price."

The pact flared.

Pain ripped up my arm and buried itself beneath my ribs. My knees slammed into the table.

Rafe was beside me in an instant. One hand clamped around my waist. The other caught my wrist and tried to lift it from the page.

"Break the command," he said. "Now."

"If I break it, the west gate falls."

"Let it fall."

"There are two hundred soldiers behind it."

"They can run."

"The gate is the only thing holding the ash trench back."

His fingers dug into my side. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You always lie when you're scared."

I looked up at him. His face was inches from mine, his breath hot against my lips.

"Then why are you shaking?"

His eyes dropped to my mouth again.

The pact burned brighter.

"Because you're going to kill yourself," he said.

"You don't know me well enough to say that."

"I know exactly what you're doing. You'd rather die useful than live owing anyone."

My throat closed.

He saw too much. That was his worst habit.

A stone crashed through the ceiling. Seren dragged the nearest soldier behind a pillar.

"Rafe! We have seconds!"

He didn't look away from me. "Name the price."

"I can't."

"Name it!"

"Fine!" I shoved my bleeding palm down. "Take one year from me. One. Then send the force into the moat."

The ink stopped.

Rafe stared at the page. "You chose that number too fast."

"Do you want your soldiers dead?"

"That's not what I asked."

"Sign, Rafe."

He bent over the table. His shoulder pressed against mine. His hand closed around the pact knife.

"If this takes more than one year—"

"It won't."

"You don't know that."

"Neither do you. Sign."

His blood hit the page.

The pact snapped shut around both our hands.

The western wall exploded.

Instead of tearing through the barracks, the cannon force twisted beneath the fortress. Stone groaned. The floor split open in a widening circle, and black water surged up from the old moat below.

The blast vanished into it.

For three seconds, nobody moved.

Then the west gate held.

Seren stared at the intact wall. "You actually did it."

"Move the garrison," I said. "Now."

She pointed at Rafe. "And him?"

"He stays."

Rafe's head snapped toward me. "I do not stay because she ordered it."

"You stay because the pact has both our blood in it."

"That makes two reasons to leave."

A wet scrape came from beneath the broken floor.

Everyone froze.

Something moved in the black water.

Seren drew her sword. "That isn't part of the fortress."

A man in an Ashen Council coat rose between the stones. Half his face was burned away. A silver chain hung from his throat, stamped with the Council's dead crown.

Rafe raised his blade. "Who sent you?"

The man laughed blood into the water.

"You still think the throne pays its own debts?"

I stepped closer. "What did you do to the pact?"

His ruined eye fixed on me.

"Not me. Your bloodline. Every ruler who dies leaves the unpaid cost behind. The pact transfers it to the survivor."

Rafe looked down at our joined hands.

The red ink crawled past the line where I had written one year.

It kept moving.

One year became three.

Three became ten.

"Helen," he said.

I tried to pull away, but his grip locked around my wrist.

The Ashen agent smiled. "The throne doesn't take years from the bride. It takes them from whoever carries the royal mark."

Rafe's hand jerked.

A black-gold symbol burned through the skin at the base of his thumb.

He hissed and dropped the pact knife.

The page flashed white.

A hidden clause surfaced beneath our names.

Rafe read it first.

"No."

I caught his shoulder. "What does it say?"

He turned the page toward me.

The royal mark pulsed once.

Then the floor beneath my feet answered.

A blackstone point pierced the crack and wrapped around my boot. Cold shot up my leg, followed by a hot pulse that matched the blood under my skin.

The Ashen agent whispered, "It knows you."

The stone climbed over my ankle.

Rafe yanked me backward. "Break the pact!"

"I can't!"

"You said you could control it!"

"I said I could hold the fortress!"

Another band of blackstone curled around my calf, tightening through my trousers.

Rafe dropped to one knee and seized my leg. His palm covered the stone, his heat burning against my skin.

"Helen, look at me."

I did.

His face was bare now. No commander. No exile. Just a man holding me down while the fortress tried to claim me.

"Tell me what you're hiding," he said. "Right now."

The blackstone reached my knee.

I opened my mouth, but the royal mark flared beneath Rafe's skin.

His eyes widened.

"The royal mark—"