Desmond stands up, grimacing at the comment.
“Aireal just might…” the raspy voice tied to the chair states.
All our eyes turn to the blonde Discerni as he regains his consciousness, his arms straining against the bindings behind him. Keane stands and stalks towards the man, his hand gripping his throat as he moves in front of him.
“Tell me,” he demands, handing tightening around the man’s neck, “tell me what interest Aireal has in her and I’ll consider letting you live.”
The blonde Discerni looks back at Keane in fear. He tries to thrash in his chair to no avail, his mouth opening and closing without any air making it to his lungs. Keane grips him harder and pulls the man and the chair up from the ground, his eyes cold in demand.
“Tell me.”
The blonde Discerni chokes and nods to the Prince for all he is worth, gasping when Keane drops him back to the ground. He hunches over as much as he can, just as the sight of large red welts begin to form quickly on his neck from the violent hold.
I move my own hand up to my neck in reflex, remembering Keane’s many heated grips on my skin. Stormfall gently rubs his head against my hand in comfort, his talons digging into my shoulder as I continue to tremble.
“Aireal and Livyatan both have an interest in her,” the man coughs out.
“What interest?” Keane demands again.
“I don’t know,” the man spits, “truthfully. I wasn’t privy to the details. It was a passing comment, just that she’s important.”
“A passing comment,” Keane seethes,“and what else was commented on?”
“Nothing more about her,” the Discerni shakes his head earnestly, “I swear. I was just told to track her and note who she meets with. Nothing more.”
“And yet you did not follow her to Pyre,” Desmond says quietly from behind.
“No,” he tries to look back at the Master Informer, “I was ordered to wait for her in our lands. Assess if anything came from her foreign travel and report back.”
Desmond presses the blade hard against his bandaged hands.
“By whom?”
The blonde Discerni groans, his eyes instantly darting back to Keane. “You know who.”
The Prince takes a step back and folds his arms over his chest, his shoulders going tense. I watch as Desmond gives his brother a look from behind, his head nodding just slightly.
“How long?” Keane stares down at the man below him.
“Since she left Bardot,” the man pleads, “I told you both.”
“How long beforethat,” Keane asks coolly, “have you been following her before this travel?”
“No,” the man shakes his head, “I did not need to.Hehandled that personally.”
My heart falls into my gut, my legs nearly giving way below me.
Troy.
Troy has been meeting with me since the beginning of my travels, always showing up before I left or whenever I returned. It has to be him they’re talking about, right? He’s been using me… using our stolen encounters. He was always asking questions on where I’d been and what I’d been up to, and though they were polite, coming off as genuine curiosity, they were still focused on my travels.
Ancients.
My chest tightens at the realization.
Troy’s meetings with me were calculated and purposely strategic, not born from enjoyment or casual fun.
How could I have been sonaive?
