Sky of Wind by Emily Deady
Chapter 29
Meena shook her head frantically as Sol closed his eyes, breaking the only contact they had left. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
The soldiers pressed him forward, quickly moving him through the crowded room. Sol opened his eyes, somehow still staring directly at her, even though he had been moving.
He deliberately closed his eyes again.
Before he could open them, the soldiers had forced him through the doorway.
He was blinking at her. Twice.
“No!” Meena screamed at the soldiers flooding from the room. “You can’t do this!”
She jumped from the bed after them.
Jules caught her, holding her back. “Stop them, Jules.” She fought his hold on her. “I thought you were the captain here.”
“Princess,” Jules tried to speak over her. “There’s nothing we can do. Calm yourself.”
The last of the soldiers disappeared down the hall.
Meena spun to face Jules. “Calm myself? What kind of monster are you? You expect me to be not upset? What would you do if someone wrested your perfect Ezra from you?” She pushed away on his chest, still trying to escape his grip.
“I’m sorry,” Jules responded, still holding her tightly. “The councilor does have superiority here.”
“Sorry?” Meena clasped her hands together between them. Throwing her whole weight to one side, she swung her hands around in a tight arc.
The unexpected central force caught Jules off guard and he was forced to let go of her.
Meena jumped back out of his reach, running to the open doorway.
They were gone.
She turned back to Jules. “Don’t apologize when you knew about this from the start.”
Jules shook his head. “Princess, I promise, I had no idea he was planning this.” The look on his face was more anguish than triumph.
Meena did not believe him, but she had no more words to yell. She climbed onto the bed, curling her knees up to her chin.
She was alone.
Except for Jules, who was still in her room.
“Get out,” Meena said, not having the energy to raise her voice above a whisper.
Instead of leaving, he walked across the room, his brow furrowed.
Meena watched, annoyed and confused.
He reached down to the floor and picked up the candle which had fallen during the fight. He set it back on the table, laying it on its side and waiting for it to stop rolling.
Then he lifted the tinderbox from the back corner of the table. Pulling it open, he felt the iron plate, the place where a spark was created when one was lighting a fire.
Meena hugged her knees closer, unsure what he was looking for. Maybe just a burnt finger.
Except the plate would be cold because Sol had used his magic to light the candle, not the tinderbox.
Meena tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry.
Jules also picked up the brimstone—a thin slice of wood which was supposed to catch the spark. He felt the flammable sulfur-tipped end on either side and smelled them as well.
“How did your husband light this candle?” he asked.
“I’m sorry?” Meena’s heart had been racing since the soldiers broke into their room, and it was not slowing down.
“The candle. How did Sol light the candle?” Jules asked again.
“With the brimstone,” Meena responded, acting as though it was the stupidest question she’d ever heard. “My beloved husband has just been taken into custody and that is all you have to say to me?”
Younn somehow guessed that Sol was a Majis, but Meena did not want to give Jules any opportunity to prove it.
“Get. Out.” She pointed at the door.
“This is my home, Princess,” Jules said, but he moved toward the door.
“It is not your home,” Meena spat, raising her voice the longer she spoke. “It’s the house of some person who was forced to leave it so you could live here. Out!”
“Goodnight, Princess,” Jules bowed his head and left the room.
“Badmorning, Captain,” she muttered as he closed the door. The morning light had started to seep through the cracks of the window covering and so it was no longer night. Nor was it good.
Falling to her side on the rumpled bed, Meena hugged her knees to her chin, wishing tears would come.
They had failed.
She had failed.
King Gareth would launch his attack on Iseldis with the ships from Istroya. He would destroy them in a matter of hours using the chaos magic he’d tortured from innocent Majis.
The Majis would continue to suffer.
Her people would suffer.
Her family would suffer.
Sol would suffer.
Her eyes remained dry, but her stomach turned.
She buried her eyes in her knees, pressing until it hurt.
It was a hopeless mission from the start, and she had done nothing but treat it like some grand adventure. She’d smiled and talked and asked clever questions, thinking she had been making a difference.
But she had done nothing.
Sol, their only chance at finding and destroying the magic receptacle, was gone. She was nothing. Her part in the ruse was a ruse in and of itself. She was the jest.
What was it Sol had said? That she should be the leader because people would listen to her?
A sob finally escaped Meena’s throat. Of course Sol would say that. The man who had been little more than a slave his entire life, treated as powerless, had been kind enough to tell her she was not powerless.
The tears came. Fast and hard and ugly, blinding her eyes and swamping her cheeks.
How wrong he had been.
No one would listen to her. She was a spoiled princess who used smiles and fluttering eyelashes to get what she wanted.
Younn thought so little of her, he did not even suspect her. It never seemed to cross his mind that she was a part of Sol’s plan, or even aware of his identity. He just saw her as a lovesick princess because that was all she had shown him.
Meena relaxed her body. The sobs had clogged her throat, and she struggled to breathe.
She loosened her knees, opening up her chest and shakily inhaling.
Sol was the only one who believed in her. He had blinked twice. He had consoled her when he was being taken.
There was no more plan to hide. No more blinks to share. No more Sol to destroy the chaos magic. She certainly couldn’t do it. No one would believe her.
Meena rolled onto her back.
No one would believe her. No one would even notice her. No one saw her as a threat.
She sat up.
She couldn’t drain the magic receptacle, but she could still find Neven. He was a Majis, too.
She knew where they needed to go. Mostly.
She still had Sophie, even if she didn’t know how the woman could help her.
Meena stood from the bed.
She was still wearing the brown trousers she’d worn to look at the blue waves. That beautiful evening already felt like a distant memory from another life.
Sitting at the table, she found a pen and ink in the drawer of the table and stared at the blank parchment in front of her.
It was time to make a plan.