Little did the king know that Lord Riis had helped to get both Neve and Vale out of the city. He’d housed them, fed them, and allowed Neve the precious time to work through her past.
Vale too, Luccan supposed. He wondered how Vale was fairing with Neve. It was clear the Warrior Bear was in love with the female.
Luccan shook his head. Vale had been stormy when he learned the news that he and Neve were related by Falk blood, but then, somehow, they’d worked things out. Luccan didn’t understand it and had asked his father if it had anything to do with the spymaster’s private meeting with Vale. Lord Riis had only said that if Vale wished for Luccan to hear what they’d spoken of, he’d tell Luccan directly. That had been that.
“Any word?” Arie entered the sitting room.
“None. Are you taking a break from studying?”
“In a way.” Arie cleared his throat. “I was doing a bit more research on Neve’s family.”
“Do I have many books on them?”
“No. I took the gateway to the castle and brought more books back.”
Their family castle in Bitra, a city in the east of Winter’s Realm, had once belonged to House Skau—Neve’s mother’s house. Luccan wondered if the texts their father had on hand were from that time too.
“What did you find?”
“Not much that I had not already read,” Arie said. “Though there was one matter pertaining to?—”
“Luccan! Arie! Thantrel!” Their father’s voice boomed from the front of the home and the brothers leapt to their feet and ran to meet him.
When Luccan swept into the foyer, he exhaled. Duran stood there, dirty and pulling a rough spun hood down to reveal his face. The trembling dwarf’s strawberry blond hair flew every which way.
“You’re safe.” Luccan went to his friend and laid a careful hand on his back, hoping to calm Duran. “Thank the Fates.”
“Thanks to you and your father,” Duran whispered, his voice raspy.
Luccan heard Thantrel enter the foyer. For once, the youngest Riis said nothing, just joined the family and studied Duran for any sign of injury.
“How did you get him out, Father?” Luccan asked.
“Best that you remain in the dark on that score.”
He hated when his father said such things but had learned not to argue. When he set his mind to keeping a secret, Lord Leyv Riis did not budge.
Duran turned to the Lord of Tongues. “I wish I could give you something in thanks, but I’m afraidI have no money and little leverage at the moment. My father could make you azupriansteel sword, but?—”
“That’s unnecessary, Duran,” Lord Riis stopped him. “I ask for nothing but your silence that I was the one to free you. And that my sons will help you escape Avaldenn.”
“Of course.” Duran said nothing more, and Luccan suspected the studious lärling was fighting shock. Though part of the cabal, Duran contributed through scholarly means and opted out of the more adventurous activities the others relished.
“On our way here, I saw these.” Lord Riis held up one of the posters the king had shown them earlier. Upon further inspection, Luccan saw that the poster also named Neve as ‘the Slave Queen’. “They’re all over the city.”
“No posters lined the streets when we came here,” Arie confirmed. “So they must have put them up this afternoon.”
Lord Riis huffed out a breath. “Let us get a drink. Other, more important things have happened since you left Frostveil Castle, and we have much to discuss.”
They moved back into the sitting room, but instead of sitting, Luccan went right to the bar and poured his father a small glass of Dragon Fire.
“Me too,” Thantrel shouted from where he lounged, one leg thrown over the arm of the chair, close to the fire. Across from Than, Duran perched, looking anxious in Luccan’s home, though Duran had been here many times.
“Get it yourself.” Luccan held up the glass he had poured for Father. “My hands are full.”
Air swirled, and the glass lifted from his hand on a bedof air to travel to the Head of House Riis. Luccan hid his amusement. Though it was the weakest of Thantrel’s powers, air magic was dead useful at times.
Luccan turned to pour two more glasses. Thantrel lifted those as well and distributed them to Arie and Duran. The dwarf took the elegant glass in his misshapen hands and sipped, pulling a face as he did so.
