“My mate,” Thantrel said when Rhistel loosened control enough to get a response.
“The sister is your mate. We know.”
“Just as we know of your brother. The gatemaker.” A voice came from behind, startling Rhistel, though he didn’t let it show.
The heir turned. Somehow, the Shadow King had let himself in and descended the stairs with no one hearing. Rhistel could not help but be impressed, even as annoyed as he was.
“Apologies for intruding, Prince Rhistel.” King Érebo smiled, and it was a dangerous thing. “I did not want to miss the show. Now, what is the gatemaker’s name again?”
“Luccan,” Thantrel said confusedly.
“That’s the one,” King Érebo grinned. “Unless we find someone more powerful, I have a use for him.”
Rhistel arched his eyebrows, and the Shadow King’s grin widened. Numerous times he’d approached Rhistel. The prince got the sense that the Shadow Fae wanted an alliance with him, as much as he desired one with the King of Winter.
Perhaps after I’m done here, we will find a quiet place and discuss such matters . . .
Rhistel turned back to the pair under his control. “So, do you understand what you will do?”
Thantrel nodded.
“Vale?”
A low breath left his twin. “I’ll do what you say, won’t I?”
Rhistel’s laughter was a low, dangerous thing. Vale had no idea. This was merely phase one of his plan. Soon, he would stretch his magic, and they’d accomplish great and brutal things together.
“Speaking of doing what I say.” Rhistel offered his brother the hilt of the blade as he tightened his control over Vale once more. “Cut off the finger with the snowflakes. Use the weapon for nothing else.”
Rhistel took a few steps back and crossed his arms over his chest as Vale’s screams filled the underbelly of the ship.
Chapter 39
ISOLDE
Istared at the spot on the wall where the gateway had closed.
Where was Vale? Our friends?
Hiding at one of the meeting points the Riis sisters had arranged throughout Grindavik?
A guttural sob rang through the office. Lord Riis was lying on the ground, next to Inga’s cold body, exactly where he’d been since her last breath. Geiravor stood behind him, pity in every line of her body, but she didn’t comfort her father. His grief prevented him from noticing anyone else in the room.
For the first time since Lord Riis told me of his lover’s actions two decades ago, something other than anger and betrayal warred inside me. It was impossible to despise him as he was, when he looked so pitiful. So broken.
Would I look the same way soon?
I halted that thought before it spiraled me into a dark place. Vale wasn’t dead. We were mates, and if death severed the bond, I’d feel it inside me. What afflicted me was not the greatest despair of losing a mate but an odd void. As if something muffled the invisible string connecting us. Perhaps distance? This was the farthest apart we’d been since the bond had formed. ThoughI’d had my doubts about such a power before, I found myself wishing that we were one of those mated pairs with a telepathic bond. At least then I’d know what was happening.
“It’s got to be safe to check now.” Thyra sat next to me. “It’s been hours.”
“It’s not safe,” Geiravor said tightly. “If it were, my sisters would make contact. Sváva hasn’t returned to the brothel because it’s under watch. And as far as I know, those soldiers may have harmed Yrsa.”
“She has eyewitnesses that she arrived at the brothel, and as she was glamoured when we started the mission, no one can say that she ever left,” Thyra said. “Yrsa is fine.”
“Trust me. Stay put a while longer.” Geiravor’s tone brooked no argument. “And no shadows.”
We’d shared that news with her, and she’d taken it rather well. Seeing our shadows as something that could be very useful.
