There was plenty more on the tip of my tongue, but he just sighed. “For now, I’d kiss every single one of you if you brought me those godsdamned artifacts and freed me from this dreadful place.”
Setting down my coffee, I debated how to play this. I came here for a single purpose, as crystal clear and cold as the ice-covered lake surrounding this island.
I came here thinking I had no chance at a future, other than the one I’d been living.
But now…now I wondered if I couldn’t have everything I’d ever wanted.
Besides, Torin told me to use whatever methods necessary to get the job done.
“I’m Commander of the Dreadwatch and I serve Queen Anaria of Valarian,” I met Rooke’s dark stare with one that had seasoned soldiers shitting their pants. “My duty is to protect my queen and kingdom. I want to make that perfectly clear, so there is no confusion.”
“And if that duty…interferes with our purposes here?” Rooke asked smoothly.
“If you and the relics pose no threat to Valarian, if you are not the sick fuck who sent my soldiers’ heads back to me in a burlap bag, then I don’t have a problem with you, Rooke. Now, if you can point me in the direction of whomever may have killed them, you can consider me an ally. Of sorts.”
He spread his arms wide. “Given I’ve been a prisoner in here for nigh fifty years, and have a distinct shortage of burlap sacks, I am not your culprit. But I know who is. Find the Triune, and I’ll give you a name.”
“Convenient, you getting your way while acting the hero,” I observed. “Name first, then the Triune.”
Of course, I had no earthly idea how we could find the Triune, but my money was on Varian, and the way he was nervously pacing along one side of the room made me think he knew exactly where the relics were.
“I’ve waited fifty years to get out of here. My father was killed for those relics. Triune first, then you’ll have your name, commander.” His face softened slightly. “You have my word on this.”
“Let’s say, for the sake of argument, the Triune is actually real. How will a bunch of old, dusty artifacts set you free?” Iasked carefully. “The last thing I want to do is unleash some awful power on this realm, much less, hand it over to someone calling himself theDark Prince.”
“Didn’t pay much attention in school, did you?” Rooke leaned forward, hands clasped between his spread knees, looking nothing like a dissolute nobleman, playing lord of the manor.
No, Kaden looked dangerous.
The kind of dangerous that shifted power paradigms, that overthrew kingdoms.
I shivered, because I recognized that look all too well. I’d seen that same fervency on Anaria’s face. On my own. In every single one of us as we’d fought and schemed to unseat two corrupt kings and kill a pair of even more corrupt Old Gods.
“My father was murdered, my entire family eliminated because of those cursed things,” Rooke was explaining in a voice devoid of any feeling, like he was, indeed, reciting history.
“Legend has it our bloodline stretches all the way back to the Old Gods themselves. Our bloodline possessed terrible magic, too powerful for some of us to control. At some point—the family history is admittedly a bit fuzzy here—the artifacts were forged in secret at the behest of one of my ancestors.”
There was nothing kind in his face when he snared my gaze with his dark eyes, nothing remotely soft or weak. I held the stare of a male determined to see this through to the end, to go to any length, make any sacrifice, so long as he succeeded.
“The artifacts were conceived not to boost our power, but to harness it. To store excess magic, so we could live our lives and not destroy the world around us.”
I kept my shiver to myself, kept the bland, semi-interested expression on my face as I took another sip of coffee.
Not only was Rooke dangerous, he had a cause worth dying for.
Which meant he would sacrifice each and every one of us for his convictions.
“They were forged in secret, somewhere in the north, perhaps near the Mithrium mines. For the next fuck knows how many millennia, the Rookes enjoyed their magic and their influence and their fucking castle, and this realm enjoyed peace and prosperity without us blowing anything up.” He lifted his hands to indicate the room around us, hail now beating at the windows.
“When our enemies discovered the source of our power, one of my ancestors hid the artifacts away to protect them, and then, century after century, that secret was handed down from father to son. Unfortunately, my grandfather was killed before he disclosed their whereabouts to my sire, who then spent years searching for what we…misplaced.”
His eyes darkened. “Even more unfortunately, Gravelock found my father before my father ever found the trove.” For a few minutes, there was nothing but silence.
“How did you end up here?”
“Lord Butcher lived up to his name, killed my father and imprisoned my mother when I was quite young.” He lifted his head to stare at the vaulted ceiling. “I’ve been here ever since. This island is spelled to keep me inside, not necessarily to keep people out, as you discovered.”
“What is the point of locking you up?” This question had no bearing on anything except my curiosity, and I didn’t actually expect an answer. “I mean, I get that you’re annoying as fuck, but this seems a little extreme.”
