Grey still has my rings.
CHAPTER 36
JAX
I don’t know what wakes me.
The house feels absolutely silent, but I’m suddenly alert, my eyes on the pitch-dark ceiling overhead. I’m used to my father stumbling home from the tavern at all hours of the night, but he’s never quiet about it—and he’s locked up with the magistrate anyway. I can’t imagine they’d turn him loose in the middle of the night.
My ears pick up a soft whisper of sound somewhere nearby, and every muscle in my body goes completely still.
Another sound, though this one is familiar: the tiny creak of the door that leads into the forge workshop.
I sit straight up in bed. The blankets pool around me, and the cold night air bites at the bare skin of my chest. My heart is pounding.
I think of Callyn—but she wouldn’t be sneaking into my house in the middle of the night. Especially not now.
Lord Alek.
The instant his name appears in my thoughts, I can’t shake it. Even if it’s not him, anyone slipping into my house at this hour is a threat.I still have that dagger hidden under my mattress, but I don’t know how to use it.
My hand has already closed on the bow alongside my bed anyway.
By the time I hear the creaky spot in the floorboards of the main room, I have an arrow nocked on the string.
When a cloaked figure appears in my doorway, I catch the glint of light on weapons.
I don’t think. I shoot.
The man is quicker than lightning, ducking sideways and deflecting the arrow with his bracer. He’s got a blade in his hand before I can nock another arrow, but I try anyway.
He’s too quick, and he grabs hold of the bow before I can shoot again. I don’t try to hold on to it. I dive out of his reach, thrusting my hand under the edge of my bedding, hoping I find the dagger.
Just as my hand closes around the leather-wrapped hilt, I’m slammed onto the gritty floorboards and pinned there. One of his hands grips my wrist with the dagger, the other is attached to the sword against my throat.
I’m breathing hard, my heart pounding with fear and fury—but I’m terrified to move, because that cold steel promises pain if I do.
But then he’s leaning close, the hood of his cloak hanging a bit askew. I recognize the strong slope of his jaw, the gold in his hair.
“Tycho?” I whisper.
“I came to ask if you were truly my enemy,” he says. “Am I getting my answer?”
“Your—what?” Maybe I’m still sleeping. Maybe this is a dream.
“Jake showed me what he found in your workshop. Are you working with the Truthbringers? Are you plotting against the king?”
“What?” My eyebrows knit together. “I don’t know what you’retalkingabout.” I hiss a breath as the sword bites into the skin at my neck.
Tycho swears and draws back—but he doesn’t let go of my wrist that holds the dagger. “Drop the weapon, and I’ll let you go.”
“Clouds above, why—”
His grip tightens until it turns painful.
“Fine!” I snap. The dagger clatters to the floor.
He keeps his word and rolls off me, but he takes the dagger, slipping it under his belt. His sword stays in his hand.
