Chapter 56 Lying Her Way Through

Chapter 56 Lying Her Way Through
Chapter 56: Lying Her Way Through

Alistair didn’t move from his position and stood like a statue, tightening his hands on the blade until the leather grip groaned. 

The light of the setting sun caught the edge of his jaw, making him look more like a judge than a sentry.

"I know that voice," Alistair sounded disgusted. "I’d know that arrogant lilt anywhere, even under a peasant’s rags. Throw back the hood, Neria. Let me see the face of the woman who makes Lyra cry every night."

Neria wasn’t intimidated, so she just reached up and pulled the charcoal fabric away, letting her brown hair spill over her shoulders. 

She looked at him with an expression that was entirely too calm for someone being glared at by the palace’s most dangerous hero.

"Hello, Alistair," there was a soft murmur. "You look much better without the soot and the charcoal skin."

Alistair’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "Soot? What are you babbling about? Have you finally lost your mind along with your dignity? You shouldn’t be here. The Duke’s daughter belongs in a parlor, not sneaking around the barracks like a common thief."

"I’m not here to bully Lyra, if that’s what you’re worried about," Neria replied, stepping down from her horse with a grace that felt practiced. 

"She’s perfectly safe in her room, probably weeping over a ribbon I supposedly stepped on. I have much larger problems than your darling’s fragile ego."

"You are the problem, Neria," Alistair stepped into her path. "You are a parasite. You spend your life sucking the joy out of everyone around you to feed your own vanity. If it were up to me, you’d be barred from these grounds permanently."

"But it isn't up to you, is it?" Neria lifted her jaw, her green eyes searched his face for the ghost of the man who had died for her in another life. 

"You’re just the man at the gate. A hero in a cage of gold. You think you hate me because I’m cruel to Lyra? No. You hate me because I’m the only one who looks at you and sees exactly what you are hiding."

Alistair’s facial muscles hardened and he bit his lower lip. "And what is that, Lady Neria? Please, enlighten me with your infinite wisdom."

"A king in a soldier’s skin.”

The energy between them seemed to change very quickly. 

Alistair’s eyes widened and there was something terrifying and dancing in his pupils. 

He grabbed her wrist, his grip felt like a shackle. 

"Who told you that? Did Sebastian send you to mock me? Is this some new game the two of you are playing to see how far you can push the bastard of the barracks?"

"Sebastian doesn't know," Neria ignored the pain in her arm.

“What?

"Sebastian thinks he’s the only one with royal blood in his veins. He’s currently in the library, convinced that the numbers in the ledger are the only thing that matters. He has no idea that the real threat is standing right here, holding my wrist like a common thug."

"You’re lying," Alistair hissed, though his voice lacked conviction. "You’re trying to bait me. You want me to say something treasonous so you can run to your lover and secure your place on the throne."

‘Lover?’ Neria couldn’t believe it.

"The throne is a tomb, Alistair. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the way it swallows people whole." Neria leaned as if she was telling a secret. 

“Stone?”

"Listen to me very carefully. Within the next hour, a shipment of salt is going to arrive at the dragon pits. The warden will tell you it’s for preservation. He’s lying. It’s to bury something that is already waking up. If you don't let me in, that thing will eat this palace before the sun rises on your precious banquet."

Alistair let go of her wrist as if she had turned into a snake. 

"You’re talking about the pits. Nobody goes to the pits without a royal seal. Not even the Duke’s daughter."

"Then kill me," Neria challenged, getting closer until her chest pressed against his armor. "Draw that sword and end this evil woman right here. If I’m just a bully and a liar, then the world loses nothing. But if I’m right, and you stop me, you’re sentencing every soul in this city to a violent death. Can your conscience handle that, Hero?"

Alistair stared at her, his breath started coming in short, ragged bursts. 

He looked for the girl who used to laugh when Lyra tripped. He looked for the girl who cared about silk and tea and found nothing but a woman with eyes that had seen the end of time.

"Why would you care?" Alistair asked, cracking a little bit. "You’ve never cared about anything but yourself."

"Because I like breathing," Neria’s tone suddenly seemed flat.

“Breathing…”

"And because there is a small, obsidian-scaled life down there that doesn't deserve to be a battery for a madwoman's ambition. Let me through, Alistair. Not for me. For the kingdom you’re supposed to protect."

Alistair looked at the gates behind him, then back at the girl in the grey cloak. 

The silence was long until the only sound was the clatter of carriage wheels.

"If you’re lying," Alistair warned her and then moved his hand to the latch of the gate, "I will hunt you down myself. I don't care who your father is."

"I’d expect nothing less," Neria’s lips marked a smirk on her face.

Alistair pulled the gate open just enough for her to slip through. "The Third Battalion rotates in twenty minutes. If you aren't out by then, you’re on your own."

"Twenty minutes is plenty of time to steal a god," Neria vanishes into the shadows of the stone corridor.

Alistair watched her go, his heart was pounding so hard against his ribs.

"What have you become, Neria?" he whispered to the empty air.

He didn't get an answer, only the distant moan of his own soul.

“Why are you doing this?”