Nothing. She felt nothing.
Lapis closed her eyes and turned away from the frosty window of the suite, unable to see the night-bathed backyard through the lacy patterns. Not that there was much to see; just snow drifts and bare trees in the faint fruit-oil light.
How could she feel nothing?
She wanted Perben dead. She mentally screamed at her brother for not letting go when he fell off the ledge, and mentally screamed at herself for not sticking him after they reached safety. Who would have stopped her? Midir? Varr? Tearlach?
Yet, her response to the demise of Kale, the man who led the palace guards into Nicodem?
She felt nothing for him.
Where was the heavy hammer of fulfilled revenge—or even a twinge of relief? Where were the tears shed to honor her family, her best friend, and all the others who died at Nicodem that day? She would take any of that.
But emptiness filled her, a blanket of grey numbing her emotions.
It had been there when she and Patch accompanied Rin and the other rats to Eaves to make certain all was well—and to reassure panicked urchins that she was, in fact, alive and well despite her adventures. It had been there during the wagon ride to the mansion—no one thought they should walk—and it was there while Lady Thais cleaned her wound, stitched her up, and set her arm in a sling.
It had been there as she tried to sleep, but the crush of weariness could not worm around it and push her into slumber. Tears had rolled down her cheeks, not from the hit of stark joy, but the sting of overweary eyes.
Patch adjusted his seat in the padded chair, and she looked up at him, his visage barely lit by the single candle flickering on the end table. She attempted to sneak out of the bedroom and sit in the outer room, pondering her non-existent emotions, but he woke and followed. They snuggled in the chair, him holding her just tight enough not to cause pain to her injury, but not loose enough for her to squirm into another position without jostling his broken rib.
He broke a rib and told no one, including her. When had he hurt himself? He did not say, but she had the impression it was during the race from the cave to the edge of the cliff. And despite his need for care, he had carted that damn weapon clear to the Lells, had fought palace guards, had nearly assassinated the king.
That same need for stark revenge beat in her. She had recognized its sharp fingers digging into him, and she interfered because she knew something would shatter in him if he pulled the trigger.
Lowering her gaze, she struggled to reconcile her lifelong impressions of Midir with the icy man who ended the royal couple without remorse. He took both out, turned on his heel, handed Patch his crossbow, and walked away from their bleeding corpses without looking back. Why had he done that? Why not leave it to the rebels? Or at least cart the ass to someplace out of sight, rather than have the entire Lells bear witness? If Dentheria—
But that was the point. The Dentherion Empire’s influence in Jiy was dead, and he made certain everyone knew that. He took that burden on himself because he was the true heir to the Jilvaynan throne, and exacted revenge for his ancestors, all their descendants, and all the Jilvaynans who fought for that moment, but never realized it.
Patch shifted again, his hold tightening around her waist. “Do you need more painkiller?” she asked, running the backs of her fingers across his chest.
He looked at her, bleary-eyed, and she doubted that was the problem. He cupped her cheek in his right hand and leaned in for a soft kiss.
“I nearly lost you today.”
Had the sharp air made him hoarse, or something else? “We nearly lost each other. The skyshroud didn’t care who it squished.”
His eye brightened, the pink in his whites making the blue more intense. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t even know you’d gone after Kale.” His voice thinned under strain. “I should have.”
“You were busy protecting those running from the guards. That was important.”
“Not as important as you.”
“Don’t trust me to take care of myself?” His gaze drifted to her wrapped shoulder, and she sighed, annoyed. “It hurts, but your aunt said I’d make a full recovery.” She slid her hand down and patted at his stomach. “You’re the one who broke a rib.”
He winced as he leaned in for another kiss. “It’ll heal.” He nuzzled her cheek, then sank back into the padding. “You stopped me.” Not an accusation, just a statement. Maybe he was too tired for anger.
“Assassinating a king in front of witnesses is reckless.”
“You didn’t stop Midir.”
“He’s heir to the throne.”
He huffed a breathy laugh. “Quite the difference.”
“He should have waited, too.”
“Maybe.” His grip tightened on her waist, and she settled her head on his shoulder, his warmth seeping into her, keeping her comfortable in the chilly room. They cuddled in silence, the peace only broken by the faint, steady tick of the hallway grandfather clock. She normally ignored it, but when they walked past earlier, she noted it was midnight.
Midnight. How long had she been awake? She could not recall.
She moved her face so his shirt scratched her nose. “I don’t feel anything.”
He settled his cheek against her hair. “What do you mean?”
“About Kale. I don’t feel anything.”
“It’s probably the painkiller.”
Oh. “We’re a pair, I guess.”
His chuckle ruffled her hair. “It will punch you, Lapis. You have a soft heart.”
“But when? I should at least feel relief, even through the meds.”
He exhaled with a grumble for the pain and pressed his lips against her tresses. “I never thought I’d have a chance at Gall. I wanted one, and I made numerous plans to sneak into the palace and take him out, but I always knew, if something went wrong, you’d be waiting and I’d never return.”
She sucked in a distressed breath, and his hold tightened even more.
“So I knew I would never take the chance. Gall would continue to live. Maybe that’s what it is for you, too. You never expected to confront Kale. He hid in the palace after he murdered your family, and Ehren took out his daughters in revenge. He used to travel around Jilvayna before that, leading his men on chases, exhilarating in the rebel hunt. But after his daughters died, he disappeared, and there were rumors he ended his life in sorrow. When he showed back up, he was Gall’s bodyguard. Still a general, but in name only.”
That was true. She never expected to encounter him, so she focused on Perben, the one she knew she could expose and execute.
She couldn’t even get that right.
“Do you know how sleek you looked, cutting the wheels off the carriage?”
She blinked and raised her head. “Sleek?”
“I was impressed. And turned on.”
She did not know whether to thank him or frown at him. “I have no idea why I thought that would work.”
“The injured were talking about it when the healers made the rounds.”
Something about the way he said it triggered memories. She narrowed her eyes. “Tamor was there.”
“I’m sure he filmed it.”
“Shit.” That was all she needed, him proudly showing yet another recording of her doing something reckless that the rats would lap up. Her shoulders drooped, and she hissed as pain lanced through her arm. Patch squinted at her, then squeezed.
“Let’s go downstairs, get some more meds. Maybe then you can sleep.”
