“Or what?” she breathed.
Valenden looked pale. “Or he could hang.”
Chapter
Thirteen
THE FALCONER'S VISIT . . . the dungeon . . . doubts and fears . . . cancelled plans . . . more of Valenden's tricks
That night was one of the worst nights in Bryn’s life. Her husband was murdered. Her lover was accused of the crime. Soldiers were tearing through Barendur Hold even now, searching for Rangar.
Finally, Valenden came pacing into the mage chambers with a curse. He snarled, “They found him.”
Bryn looked up from her tea, which one of the apprentices had made for her but she hadn’t touched. “Where?”
“He was out drinking on the docks with some sailors.”
“There,” she said triumphantly. “The sailors can vouch for him, yes? That he was with them when Trei was murdered?”
But Valenden’s face remained stony. “He’d only been with them a few minutes, apparently. Before that, he claims he went for a walk along the coastal forest. Naturally, no one believes him.” He paused. “They put him in the dungeon.”
“The dungeon!”
She wished she could vouch for him to prove that he’d been elsewhere when the murder happened. If she had to confess to their dalliance in the dressmaker’s room earlier that evening, she would, but the truth was, it wouldn’t help. That had happened when Trei was still alive and at the feast. Telling everyone they’d been together then would accomplish nothing.
Valenden sat next to her on the bench, taking her hand. “No one wants it to be true that Rangar murdered his brother, so they’ll do a proper investigation. They won’t condemn him without discovering the truth.” He squeezed her hand tightly. “They’ll prove it wasn’t him.”
Bryn buried her head in her arms on the table. Her heart felt battered and bruised. She’d been searching for that knife for so long, afraid it had fallen into unscrupulous hands. It was such a recognizable knife hilt that she’d been shocked that no one had returned it to her or Rangar—unless theyhadreturned it to Rangar, and he hadn’t told her.
For a second, doubts crept into her head.
He did threaten to kill Trei . . .
And he said clear as day he’d find some way for us to be together…
As soon as she had those thoughts, she banished them.
No. Rangar isn’t a killer. Not like this.
“Saraj!” she said suddenly as a fresh wave of panic washed over her. “Has anyone told Saraj?”
Valenden looked grim. “I’m sure word has spread to her by now.”
“Oh, that poor woman.” Bryn felt ill again to think of how Saraj must be feeling.
Valenden eventually convinced her to go to bed in an effort to save her strength, though she tossed and turned all night, not even bothering to change out of the blood-stained dress. Shewasn’t sure if she’d slept at all or simply blacked out from worry, but as morning light came through the window of her small chamber, she heard an older woman’s voice speaking with the guards outside.
Bryn stumbled out of her room and into the mage workroom, where Mage Marna was speaking with the soldiers. Her voice was hoarse as she gasped, “Rangar?”
“Is in custody,” the mage said carefully. “He is safe. He denies the crime vehemently.”
Bryn clutched her hands together, squeezing the ring on the chain around her neck. “I must speak with him.”
“I don’t think that’s wise, Bryn.”
“Please,” she begged. “He’s behind bars; what harm could either of us do?”
Mage Marna hesitated before warning in a quieter voice, “Bryn, you must take extra care now. These are perilous times. We examined the scene of Trei’s death and found signs of a struggle.” The older woman took a deep breath. “He wasn’t asleep when the murderer cut his throat.”
