“Bastard got what it deserved,” said a voice.
Kinlear glanced up to find Hux, the Windmage Master, a male whose power was revered in the Citadel. He was related to Soraya, and perhaps Kinlear’s Matching to her, and his grief after she’d defected, had made Hux feel a certain kinship with him. Because of all the Masters, it hadn’t taken much convincing to get Hux to voteyeson this plan.
“May it findagonyin the eternal emptiness it faces after this.”
“I agree,” Kinlear said. “In... less formal terms that I cannot openly express without fear of paying penance again.”
“You’ve had more than enough of that for both of us,” Hux replied.
He kept his blade drawn and ready as if the fallen rider would spring back to life.
A difficult thing to do, without a head.
Someone’s Sacred magic had severed it—probably a windblade from Hux himself, his specialty-- and probably long before the rider and the raphon crashed.
Other voices came from ahead in the shadows, his father’s soldiers...and the cry of the beast.
Agonizing.
Angryas all hells.
And yet, Kinlear paused, unable to look away from the headless rider.
A real darksoul...
One of the Acolyte’s powerful chosen. He’d certainly gotten every detail right in his dreams, when he slayed himself.
“Incredible,” Kinlear said. “It truly bleeds as black as the night sky.”
He’d never seenwarthe way Arawn had. Never seen one up close, like this.
“A stained soul,” said Hux. “It did not die easily.”
“They never do,” Kinlear said.
A lovely black blade was discarded at the creature’s side. A short sword, with raven’s wings for a hilt.
Kinlear sucked in a breath, then quickly covered it up with a cough.
A quick uncorking of his vial settled it.
“Prince?”
“It’s alright,” Kinlear said. “I just...it’s the first time I’ve seen one of them like this.”
“Monstrous, isn’t it?” Hux asked.
Kinlear nodded. He kept his face passive, trying to hide the elation he felt inside. He was dizzy with it, drunk with it, as his heart fluttered in his chest.
Because it washerblade.
The one he saw in his dreams...the one she carried on her hip. He felt closer to her now than he ever had before.
Kinlear knelt, reaching out.
“Prince. I urge you not to touch it.”
“We should keep it for study,” Kinlear said. “Perhaps the riders are given specific weapons for a reason. Perhaps the blade helps forge the bond to the beast?”
