Just as I think of the fool, he enters the pub and heads straight for our table.
“Guard,” he snaps at Varguk, as if using his name is beneath him. “A message from your king.”
He thrusts a sealed, folded note onto the table in front of Var and stands there glaring at him.
We all stare at the note on the table.
“Well? Read it,” Denruk sneers.
“I’ll read it later,” Varguk says, his eyes narrowed on Denruk.
“Read it now. Or do you have something to hide that concerns our clansmate?”
“He’s already been entrusted as her guard,” Bakog snaps. “Do you doubt the permission given by West Mountain?”
“If a message was sent by the king of Southpeaks, don’t you think it has to do with her? Or even him, who killed the king’s son?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Varguk says. “It might be a message from the king. Or it might be a message from father to son. How would you know?”
But I know. Varguk has already told me the relationship between him and his father, and him and his siblings. He’s not claimed in the capacity of his father’s son, and no one would reach out the way family might.
Denruk leans in, a challenge clear when he says again, “Read it. Or have you something to hide, Southpeak scum?”
“Talk to our guard like that again and we’ll have a problem,” Bakog warns.
But Varguk is calm as he unravels the note, his eyes skimming across the page. Like a petty child, Denruk rips it from his hand. It flutters to the table, face up.
Written in a language that’s definitely not Orcish.
“What is this? Some sort of code?” Denruk snaps.
Varguk picks up the note and holds it over the candle flame in the center of the table, letting the edge catch fire. He blows it gently, allowing the words to smolder before they turn to ash.
“Our clans sometime speak their native tongues among them. My father, even though he’s king, is no exception.”
“So you’ll pretend it’s a note from father to son?” Denruk asks.
“Forgiving me, his son, for killing his other.” Varguk’s grin is chilling.
Chapter Eight
Varguk:
A LOVING MESSAGE it was not.
For my father to hear about Levi’s death this quickly means that a runner ran straight home, traveling alone, while the rest carried his body at a more somber pace. But he had no other choice than to name me successor of his clan because Auglesh hasn’t bested me in the sibling trials. Not once. Not ever.
That weak fool has no chance against me.
But the scalding message let me know exactly of my father’s disappointment that I was the succeeding sibling. How surprised he was that I had gotten lucky in the challenge and how he still held hope for Auglesh. How he should have sought me out when he learned of my birth and drowned me in the river. How my only chance for redemption would be to bringthe bridgehome immediately, which I should have no problem doing since Levi paved the way.
Levi.
My father didn’t even call him Leviton, but gave him the honor of a shortened name. Deliberately showed his preference.
Under the table, Negan reaches for my hand and threads her fingers through mine. She squeezes lightly, and I turn my head to the beautiful female. I love to have her gorgeous image in my sight.
“Be gone, Denruk.” Her voice isn’t raised. Not at all. Her eyes never leave me, as if she can’t be bothered with the ugly oaf.
