Emi played the part as indifferent, giving her time to follow my questioning. “And yet I did not get what I wanted.”
“It is no fault of mine if you didn’t kill the woman.”
“The melder?”
“Who else?” Tomas took a step back. Fear edged his voice.
I reached behind me and took hold of the ax handle, ready to pull it free of the sheath. Heat prickled along the scar on my neck.
With my other hand, I directed Emi.Find out how long he’s been aligned with Queen Elisabet.
“You played your role. But I must ask. Ser Grisen, have youalways been a traitor to your king?” Emi tossed back her hood, revealing her features. “Aligning with Dravenmoor—”
“You?” Tomas stiffened. He looked into the trees, his face losing color. “You wrote the missive about the gates? But…you’re Draven?”
He summoned the Dark Watch but…was he not working under the demands of the Draven queen? His unease at Emi’s heritage was discomfiting and I didn’t understand it. Who else would want to involve Dravenmoor in Lyra’s slaughter save their queen?
Tomas swallowed thickly. “But you wanted her dead to take her bones and make room for your melder. Why would Draven folk keep a melder?”
I tapped the ground. Emi looked down with the slightest tilt of her head to read my hands.It wasn’t Dravens who wanted Lyra this time.
My stomach cinched. Another melder?
Tomas’s stun was sincere. He believed whoever conspired with him to open the gates had the craft of melding at their disposal to heal his jagged jaw. But his befuddlement hinted to us the missive came from a traitorwithinthe fortress. Not from across the ravines.
The bastard was so desperate to be healed, he allowed the slaughter of innocents and he nearly caused Lyra’s death.
I’d see to it he endured the same.
A slow rumble of a laugh built in my chest until the sound shifted in my throat.
I took hold of the ax and spun the head once, twice. My skin overheated, and rage and violence blurred out conscious thought. Before he had a moment to take note of my movements, the sharp beard of the ax rammed into the back of his shoulder.
He cried out and stumbled forward. The horse nickered and ran off down the road, back to its stables.
Stav would see the beast soon enough and alarms would be sounded. I had plans to be curled against Lyra’s body before the first signal.
Tomas whimpered in the dirt. Fool tried to scramble away on his stomach, blood fountaining from his back. I took slow steps, deliberate, and intended for him to hear each stride. He cried out to the gods when I stepped between his shoulder blades, pinning him to the dirt, and wiggled the ax head free of his bones.
I lowered to one knee, gripped his hair, and wrenched his head back. The night darkened around us the more my disdain for the man boiled in my blood.
One hand gripped his manipulated chin. I tossed back my hood, taking a great deal of pleasure in his wide eyes, wet with fearful stun.
Gods, I’d waited for this from the moment he put his damn hands on Lyra Bien.
Another soft, muffled sound rolled from my chest. The sound shifted into something deeper, something heavier. Until it scrambled with Tomas’s screams of terror and I lunged.
“Finish your meet?” Kael’s chinwas propped on the claw of his hand where he sat in front of the inglenook.
I locked Lyra’s chamber door at my back and lowered my chin in a nod, not giving up anything else before striding into the washroom. I placed my bloody ax in the basin, hair lifting on my neck, the burn of eyes on the back of my head.
“Do I get to ask?” Kael filled the doorway.
I shook my head and tore off my tunic.
Darkwin seemed as though he might like to argue, but thought better of it. “She’s been asleep for the better part of a bell toll.”
I clapped him on the shoulder, gestured that I would be keeping watch inside her room, ignored the roll of his eyes, and slipped into the bedchamber.
