Book 2 - Chapter 28

Noah looked up from his designs when a knock sounded at the door. “Come in!”

He sat at a large table deep in the bowels of the castle, papers covered in drawings and calculations spread out before him. Someone had mentioned earlier that the room had once been used by tax collectors to count gold before transferring it into the vault behind him. It was one of the safest, most secure places in the entire city—far enough from prying eyes that he felt comfortable leaving his designs out in the open.

A young man stepped inside, flanked by four royal guards. “S‑sorry to disturb you, sir.”

He was lanky, late teens, with scraggly black hair and tanned skin. His eyes darted around the stark room—grey stone walls, a red rug, a wooden table, Noah’s chair. The magical chandelier overhead provided the only light, since the room had no windows.

“It’s fine. What’s going on?” Noah asked, drawing the young man’s attention back to him.

“The Princess sends for you, sir. She asked me to inform you that the execution is complete, and that Lord—sorry, not Lord—Tavin Crossfield is dead.”

Noah swallowed back the bile rising in his throat and nodded. “Understood.”

“Furthermore, she asked if you might join her at the top of the keep to write some additional spells.”

“Guess I’d better get going then,” Noah said, pushing his chair back and standing.

He pulled his coat off the back of the chair and shrugged it on before heading toward the door. The young man and the royal guards stepped aside, letting him pass. Noah locked the door behind him and pocketed the key, then turned to the messenger.

“What’s your name?”

“Miro, sir. Miro Saltwright.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’” Noah said, offering his hand. “I don’t really know my way around the castle yet. Can you show us where we need to go?”

“Of course, sir.” Miro immediately stammered. “I‑I‑I mean, Noah. Sir. Sir Noah.”

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Noah smiled and gestured down the long hallway. Miro spun around and started walking, ears and cheeks bright red. Two of the royal guards fell in behind them while the other two remained at the door.

Noah stayed quiet as they walked, not wanting to embarrass the young man further. Miro led them up a flight of stairs, along a hallway, through the throne room, then down another corridor. City guards stiffened as they passed, stepping aside and saluting with bowed heads and a fist pressed to their chests. Noah tried to add each turn and landmark to his mental map, but the endless tapestries and paintings blurred together.

I can’t keep this pace up forever. I need more sleep.

Eventually Miro stopped in front of a door guarded by four more of Mara’s hand‑picked squad. They opened it wordlessly, revealing a winding staircase. Noah nodded his thanks and began the climb.

At the top, he pushed open the door to find Mara leaning over the parapets, staring down at the city below. She turned at the sound of his footsteps, a small smile appearing on her face. Her eyes were red, her cheeks still wet.

“Hey,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m here.”

She held him for a long moment before speaking. “I hate executions. Kasinda offered to do it for me, but… if I delegated it, it would make me look weak. I had to do it myself.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you.”

“No. I had to be seen doing it without you or Ciri or Ken, for the same reason.” She paused, looking up at him. “And besides, you were working on something more important.”

“I’m almost done the first batch of schematics. I should be able to take most of them to the artificers tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Where are Ciri and Ken?”

“I gave them one of the bedrooms. They’re there with Piper, calling their tribe with the twin mirror.”

“Is it safe for them to be here?”

“If you’re asking whether they’re going to be attacked by some external threat, the answer is no. We’re still trying to figure out how the Corrupted Fae managed to escape, but we know she’s not here.” She paused and shook her head. “If you’re asking whether they’re safe from Ciri’s mothers… well, when I checked on them a few minutes ago there was still a lot of shouting.”

Noah chuckled. “Yeah, that tracks. Ciri’s moms were pretty upset about Ken being in harm’s way when we escaped Crownspire. He’s going to have a hell of a time convincing them he needs to go back to close the portal.”

She smiled faintly. “They sound like they care.”

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“They do. You’d like them.” He hesitated. “I’ll find a way for you to meet them someday. Once this is over.”

“I’d like that. I’m sure I’ll have more responsibilities now, but…” She grinned. “I’m also the princess. I get to make the rules.”

“That you are.” He kissed her softly.

When they pulled apart, they looked out over the city. Below, a steady stream of refugees flowed through the newly opened gates. Guards took down names and directed people either to makeshift shelters in warehouses or to an open‑air field hospital in a nearby square. The smell of hot soup and fresh bread drifted upward from one of the communal kitchens.

“At least we can save some of them,” Mara murmured.

“I’m glad Kasinda thinks the same way,” Noah said, gesturing to the humanitarian efforts below.

“She ordered the gates opened before we’d even finished in her library. We had to expropriate the merchants’ private food stores, but we’ve got enough for everyone for the next few months—even with all the extra mouths.”

“Did they object?”

“I’d have offered to pay them, but they fled on their ships at the first sign of trouble.” She shrugged. “Desperate times. If the warehouses fill up, I’ll start expropriating their mansions next. Doesn’t make sense to leave them empty while people sleep in the streets. And it’ll keep morale up.”

“I don’t disagree, but how do the city guards feel about that?”

“Some disagreed. Kasinda fired them. We’ve been replacing them with army survivors as they arrive.” She glanced at him. “Which reminds me: I heard an interesting rumor going around.”

“You did?”

“Apparently, a patrol guarding the docks was about to be overwhelmed by Corrupted before a mysterious human arrived with two wild Fae and a small griffon.” She raised an eyebrow. “The guards say he killed a small army of Corrupted with a crossbow before ordering them to rescue civilians and commandeer boats.”

“Wait—is that why random people keep saluting me and calling me ‘sir’? I thought that was weird.”

She nudged him. “No, that’s because you’re sleeping with me. Royal consorts get the same respect as nobles, regardless of their family status.”

“That’s what I am now?” He grinned. “The royal consort?”

A smile crept across her face. “You’re damn right you are.”

“So what happens when you get tired of me? Do people stop calling me ‘sir’?”

“Tell you what: help me save Crownspire and I’ll gift you a title and land.”

He pretended to think. “Pass. I don’t want to be stuck in boring meetings with stuffy nobles all day.”

She giggled. “Sure, if you’re a lord. I was thinking more like a minor noble. A baron, or a viscount.”

“I’m gonna be honest—I don’t even know what that is.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Traveller, remember? We don’t really have those back home.” He paused. “Actually, that’s not true. We do, but they’re mostly ceremonial now.”

“Right.” She nodded. “So… I feel like I should ask this now. What did you do in the old realm?”

“I was an engineer,” he said. “Ciri says they’re sort of like scholars. Now that I’ve been here awhile, I think it’s closer to being an artificer—but without magic. And with a lot more math.”

“So… you made things.”

“Exactly.”

“Tell me more? I feel like there’s this big part of you I don’t know yet, and I want to.”

Sensing she needed a distraction from the day, Noah spent the next thirty minutes recounting the unredacted version of his story—everything from tracking Lucien to his debates with Ken and Ciri after meeting her at the academy. She held him tighter when he described finding his brother’s grave, stopped him often to ask clarifying questions, and absorbed every detail with quiet intensity. When he finally finished, she smiled and nodded.

“You’re exactly who I thought you were.”

He blinked. “You thought I was a traveller?”

“No. That’s just something you did,” She clarified. “I might not have known all the details, but even without them I knew you were a good man.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He grinned.

She snorted and punched his arm. “Ass.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, leaning against each other as they looked out over the city.

“You’re going to want to go into Crownspire with Ken, aren’t you?” she said quietly.

He thought about it. “If you’d asked me that when I first arrived in Tenebrae, I’d have said no. Now though?” He exhaled. “It’d feel wrong not to go with him. He’s done so much for me, and I’m one of the few people who can fight Corrupted effectively without magic.”

“I thought you might say that. Which is why I’m going with you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You are?”

She met his gaze. “You’re my man. If you’re charging into danger, I’m charging in beside you.”

“You’re the princess. If you get hurt or killed—”

“Then my brother becomes king. But you know we stand a better chance with me there.” She stared him down. “I deserve to be there just as much as Ciri does.”

“Okay. Fine. We do this together.”

“Good.”

“But then I’m going to need a few of your artificers to work on some special projects for me.”

“Special projects?”

“I’ve been thinking about the fights we’ve been in. I’ve got ideas for new gear. Stuff we probably can’t mass‑produce in time, but having a few prototypes might make a big difference.”

“I’ll send word to our best artificers first thing in the morning and give them access to whatever resources they need. And don’t worry—I’ll make sure they understand this is strictly confidential. None of your designs will ever be seen by anyone unless you want them to.”

“Thank you.” He paused as another thought surfaced. “On that note… I have a question.”

“Ask me anything.”

“You’re the princess. You knew I had a crossbow. You knew it would benefit Therondale. Was our relationship the only thing stopping you from doing what was right for your country? Taking it, and forcing me to give you the designs?”

She shook her head. “No. It was one factor, but not even the most important one.”

“What was it?”

“Noah, the real value was never in the crossbow or the designs.” She tapped his temple gently. “The real value was always in here. Your mind. Your ability to solve problems. Your insistence on doing the right thing. My hope was that I’d reveal I was the princess, and that eventually you’d share all of that with me willingly. Because together, I think we could do a lot of good.”

For a moment, Noah was stunned into silence by her admission. When he recovered, he leaned in and kissed her fiercely, pulling her warm body against his. She returned the kiss with equal passion, and their hands had only just begun to wander when the door swung open.

“Your highness, I—oh, shit— I… um…” Miro stammered.

They broke apart. Mara turned toward him, offering a reassuring smile. “Yes?”

“Th‑the… Lady Crossfield requests your presence, your highness. The runners from Sevalin have returned. Your brother is alive and sends word.”

She sighed, then kissed Noah one last time. “Duty calls.”

“You go. I’ll stay up here for a bit. I’ve got my writ on me. It doesn’t look as high as the tower in Crownspire, but I should still be able to write at least a few spells.”

“I’ll send for some paper and torches so you have enough light to work,” she said as she moved toward the door. “Don’t stay up too late, though. When this meeting with Kasinda is over, I’d like to pick up where we left off. In my room.”

He grinned. “Say no more, princess.”