“I lied.”
His simple words carve a hole in the pit of my stomach. My parted lips drop open completely as an all-too-familiar sensation fills me.
Betrayal.
My old friend, which follows me wherever I go.
Still confused, I shake my head decisively.Please tell me it’s not true. Notyou,Skartovius.
“I had to give Lukain a reason, love,” he explains. When he reaches for my hand, I pull it back. Wincing, Skar nods, continuing his excuse. “We were never going to get close enough to Alacine Mortis to kill her. She was too powerful, her ward too strong. The only one who could possibly do it . . .”
I catch on as he trails off, my voice a cracking whisper. “. . . Was the son already closest to her, wrapped up in her web.”
Skar’s nod is absolute.
I try to understand it. I truly do. He’s right, in some sense—we were hopeless to stop their vile mother.
And yet, the diabolical nature of his lie makes me sick to my stomach. Bile rises at the back of my throat, a headache pulses behind my eyes. “All those things you wrote, the things Lukainbelieved and brought to Alacine to confirm. They werelies? Tricks to get him on our side and finish off your hated enemy?”
“She was my mother too, little temptress. Do not forget.”
“You areheartless,” I hiss.
Skar’s face hardens. When our eyes meet, I see a different man for the first time. A true devil, to play with his half-brother’s heart and history like this. “I have never shied away from what I am, and I have never lied to you in the telling of it, Sephania. I am a monster.”
I open my mouth to shout, to scream, to doanythingas I jolt to my feet—
But Garroway stands in the door, taking up the frame, and hurries with, “We have a problem.”
“What is it, cub?” Skar snaps. “We’re busy—”
“My little eyes in the woods are showing me something bad. An army, in fact.”
Skartovius stands. I step away from him, which makes the corners of his eyes tighten. When our eyes meet, the expression on my face is clear enough to tell him this isnotover, despite the rude interruption.
After what he’s just told me, I’m not sure I can ever trust him again. It wasn’t Vallan or Lukain I had to worry about this whole time.It washim!
“Whatarmy?” Skar snarls.
“Aramastun Wyvox has arrived . . . and he’s brought a regiment of judgemen with him.”
I don’t know what the fuck “judgemen” are, but by the pale tint to Skar’s already-pale face, I know it’s bad.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
And then we hear it—a booming voice echoing through the windows of the manor, drilling to my very core and shaking my foundation.
“Lord Skartovius Ashfen of Manor Marquin! A pleasant evening, I pray. You have perhaps learned of the untimely deaths of Overlord Barnabac Craxon and Overlady Alacine Mortis. As the barrister of the remaining ministries, I have seen fit to take their respective wards under my command, for the time being.”
Fuck,I think, my mind whirling.The leader of the Judgment Ward takingboththe Intelligence and Military wards for his own purposes?Based on the haunted expressions Garroway and Skartovius are showing, this is very bad news.
“As such, Lord Ashfen,” the overlord continues, “I have decided to rescind your status as lord of this manor, and claim it under the jurisdiction of Olhav’s Three Ministries. Effective immediately.”
I gasp. Turn to my mates. “He can’t do that, can he?”
I already hear footsteps scampering through the halls upstairs and below—everyone hearing the same information yelled out to us from the courtyard of the manor.
Skartovius’ shoulders sink. There’s a defeated look on his face, the first of its kind I’ve ever seen. “He’s Aramastun Wyvox, the Night Judge. He can do whatever he wants.”
