Chapter 57: Isleen's Arrival

The commotion in the entrance hall pulled Thessaly from the library where she'd been pretending to read the same page for an hour.

Voices echoed off marble. Guards arguing with someone. A woman's voice, sharp with exhaustion and irritation, cutting through the usual quiet of the palace.

Thessaly knew that voice.

She dropped the book and ran.

The entrance hall was chaos. Three shadow guards blocked the doorway, and facing them down with her travel cloak still dusty from the road was Isleen.

Isleen. Her Isleen. Dark hair escaping its braid, chin lifted in that stubborn way Thessaly remembered from a thousand childhood arguments, looking thin and tired and real.

"I don't care about your protocols," Isleen was saying. "I've traveled three weeks to get here, and I'm not leaving until I see Thessaly Ashenheart."

"Isleen."

The word came out broken. Thessaly's vision blurred as she crossed the hall, and then Isleen was turning, eyes going wide, and they were moving toward each other.

The hug nearly knocked them both over. Thessaly buried her face in Isleen's shoulder and started crying, which was becoming embarrassing at this point, but she didn't care. This was home. This was safety. This was the one person in the world who'd never looked at her like she was broken.

"You're here," Thessaly whispered. "You're actually here."

Isleen's arms tightened around her. "Of course I'm here. Did you think I'd let you rot in this place alone?"

But something felt wrong.

The embrace was stiff. Isleen's body was rigid against hers, not relaxed the way it should be after weeks of traveling to reach her. And when Thessaly pulled back to look at her friend's face, Isleen's smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Let me look at you." Isleen's gaze swept over her, cataloging. "You look different. They feeding you enough? You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine. Better than fine." Thessaly grabbed Isleen's arm, aware of the guards watching. "Come on. Let's get you settled. You must be exhausted."

They made it to Thessaly's chambers before the questions started. Isleen moved through the room like she was searching for something, fingers trailing over furniture, eyes darting to corners and doorways.

"This is where they're keeping you?" Isleen's voice had an edge. "Fancy prison."

"It's not a prison."

"Isn't it?" Isleen finally looked at her directly, and there was something in her expression that made Thessaly's stomach drop. "Thess, what's happening here? Your mother is worried sick. Malachi thinks—"

"Malachi thinks I'm a traitor. I know." Thessaly sat on the edge of the bed. "How is he? And Mother?"

"Your mother gave me permission to come. Said she needed to know you were safe." Isleen perched on a chair, still not relaxing. "Malachi is... he's planning something. I don't know what. He wouldn't tell me."

Lie. The word rang clear in Thessaly's head. Isleen was lying, and she'd never been good at it. Her left eye twitched slightly when she wasn't telling the truth, always had since they were children.

It was twitching now.

"Why are you really here?" Thessaly asked quietly.

"I told you. To make sure you're alive." Isleen's smile was too bright. "And you are. You look good, actually. Better than I expected. This place hasn't broken you yet."

"It's not trying to break me."

"No? What's it trying to do then?" Isleen leaned forward. "Because from where I'm standing, you're living in luxury with the man who murdered your father. Wearing his clothes. Eating his food. What exactly is happening here, Thess?"

The judgment in her voice stung. "It's complicated."

"Complicated." Isleen laughed, but it wasn't her real laugh. "That's what you're going with? He destroyed our kingdom. Killed hundreds of our people. What's complicated about that?"

"He was possessed. The Void controlled him. It wasn't—"

"Is that what he told you?" Isleen stood abruptly, pacing. "And you believed him?"

"I've seen the evidence. Felt it myself through the—" Thessaly caught herself, but too late.

"Through the what?" Isleen's eyes sharpened. "Thess. What aren't you telling me?"

This was moving too fast. Spinning out of control in a way that made Thessaly's chest tight. This wasn't how reunions were supposed to go. Isleen was supposed to hug her and tell her everything would be okay and maybe cry a little because they'd been apart so long.

Not this. Not suspicion and lies and that look in Isleen's eyes like she was planning something.

"I can't explain it right now," Thessaly said. "There's too much, and you're tired from traveling. Let me have someone show you to a room, and we can talk properly tomorrow when you've rested."

"I'm not tired." But Isleen's shoulders sagged, and Thessaly saw the exhaustion she was trying to hide. "Fine. Tomorrow. But Thess, I need you to be honest with me. Whatever's happening here, whatever they've told you, I need the truth."

"I'll tell you everything tomorrow. I promise."

The hug goodbye was even stiffer than the first one. Isleen held on for exactly three seconds before pulling away, and her eyes were already scanning the hallway as a servant led her toward the guest chambers.

Thessaly stood alone in her room, trying to shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

Isleen had always been a terrible liar. The eye twitch, the rigid posture, the way she'd asked questions she already knew the answers to. She'd mentioned Malachi planning something, then claimed she didn't know what.

More lies.

Thessaly moved to the window, watching twilight settle over the gardens. The bond hummed in her chest, and she felt Davorin's awareness brush against hers. Concern. Question.

Not yet, she sent back. I need to figure this out first.

But figure what out? That her best friend had traveled three weeks to reach her, but couldn't look her in the eye? That Isleen was hiding something big enough to make her shake?

That maybe she hadn't come to rescue Thessaly at all?

A knock at the door made her turn. A servant with a message—Isleen had requested her belongings be brought to her room immediately. All of them. She'd been very specific about not letting anyone else handle her bags.

Thessaly's blood went cold.

What was in those bags that Isleen didn't want anyone else to see?

She was moving before she'd decided to move, slipping into the corridor, heading toward the guest wing. The servant who'd taken Isleen's things was coming back the other way, and Thessaly stopped him.

"The bags you just delivered. Did you open any of them?"

"No, my lady. The guest was very clear about handling them herself."

Thessaly's heart was pounding now. She shouldn't do this. Shouldn't violate Isleen's privacy. But that twitch in her eye, those lies, the stiffness of her embrace—

Something was wrong. And Thessaly needed to know what.

She found Isleen's room easily enough. Listened at the door and heard water running—Isleen was washing up after the long journey. The door was unlocked.

Thessaly slipped inside.

The bags were piled near the bed. Three of them, travel-worn and dusty. Thessaly's hands shook as she opened the first one. Clothes. Supplies. Nothing unusual.

The second bag held more of the same.

The third bag had a false bottom.

Thessaly's fingers found the hidden compartment, and her breath stopped when she saw what was inside.

A letter. Sealed with Malachi's mark.

And a vial of something dark that looked disturbingly like poison.