Bri snickered. “Where would the fun in that be?”

Chapter Four

They spoke to palace staff and guards well into the evening but procured no new information. Everyone had a vague notion that it was the witch hunters who’d attacked, but no one could point the pair toward new leads. Eventually Carys relented, heading back to their room, while Bri made her way to the wine cellar. With two bottles in her hands, she climbed the twisting steps that led up to the roof, ready to finally take in the view.

She took a deep breath as her feet reached the landing, a blanket of stars stretching out above her. The panic ebbed at the endless stretch of sky. Her feet abruptly halted as she spotted a figure sitting on the lip of the red tiled roof.

Delta.

The injured warrior sat staring out at the twinkling night, the moon beaming a white glow across the land. In the far distance, ocean waves rolled into the horizon. It was as beautiful as Bri had hoped, vast and tranquil.

Glancing over her shoulder, Delta huffed. Her wounded arm hung in a sling around her neck, her other hand clutched a bottle. “Why am I not surprised?” she muttered even while shifting over to make space for Bri on the ledge.

Bri tiptoed over, careful not to trip on the uneven tiles. The weariness of the day stifled her anger toward her former lover. She was no closer to finding the Queen’s killer.

Delta’s eyes flitted to the two bottles of wine in Bri’s hands. “Rough night or expecting company?”

“Neither,” Bri said, releasing a tired groan as she sat. “I couldn’t take another moment in those shrouded halls.” She tipped her head to the bottle of red liquid in Delta’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Avassa,” she said, passing it to Bri. “Swifthill’s finest.”

It was Delta who had introduced her to the Western Court drink. The hairs on her arms stood on end as she took a swig. It was sweeter than ale and more citrusy than wine, but packed a wallop as it burned down her throat.

“The shrouds come down soon, once my aunt’s spirit is sent to the afterlife,” Delta said, taking the bottle back from Bri. “I’m sure my aunt’s attendants will be happy to finally leave her chamber.”

“Gods,” Bri cursed. “I forgot you did that.”

The Queen’s attendants would stay with her body until it reached the pyre’s flames, keeping her spirit company, singing songs and prayers for her journey into the afterlife.

“It is you Easterners who are strange.” Delta chuckled. “You would just leave your family’s spirits unattended? What a lonely way to begin the afterlife.”

“Their spirits are gone the moment the light leaves their eyes.” Bri shifted in her seat, uncorking her first bottle with haste.

“I know you’re not a stranger to death, Bri,” Delta said. “I’m sorry this place reminds you of her.”

“I didn’t say anything about her,” Bri gritted out. She took a long swig of her wine, pointedly twisting her hips to move her amber dagger out of Delta’s line of sight.