That is a fair question, Eagan said, but you know well enough Arman’s feelings on mischief of the flesh.
Kurtz blew out a long breath. And you know me well enough.
You going to be all right?
I walked away.
That is good.
Kurtz fisted the wool blanket on the bed. Didn’t feel very good.
Something else bothering you? Eagan voiced.
Aye. That infernal prison where he’d lived worse than a rat for thirteen years. That pitch-black abyss. I don’t want to go to that rotting island. What if Arman decides to lock me up again?
Oh, my friend. I do not think He will do that.
But you don’t know. Kurtz’s chest had grown so tight, he strangled the blanket, twisting the scratchy wool in his fists. Maybe the Captain’s Row wasn’t enough, eh? Could be I’m too weak to serve in this role.
If that were true, He would not have sent you. And the king would not have insisted you go.
Kurtz considered that. I’m not worthy.
None of us are.
Fine. I’m less worthy than most, then.
Hmm, that is not for you to decide, Kurtz. Now, I cannot blame your reluctance to step foot on Ice Island. I would feel exactly the same. But Arman is in this mission.
That much is clear. If the Father God was sending watchers to admonish Kurtz, He was clearly paying very close attention.
Pray, Kurtz, Eagan voiced. Pray often. And tell me if you see the watcher again.
Kurtz released a shaky breath. Will do, eh?
He severed the connection. Cole had switched songs again—now playing “Light of the World” and humming along. So, Kurtz tried it Eagan’s way and prayed, asking Arman for forgiveness for his dark intentions with Rilla and thanking Him profusely for whatever catastrophe had just now been so narrowly avoided.
Because the last time Kurtz had ignored that watcher, King Axel had been killed.
Chapter 11
Cole
Better a clumsy step forward than a coward’s retreat, right?
As if to prove Cole’s very thoughts, he tripped again over a tangle of soggy rushes in the dark, narrow passageway of Lytton Hall.
“Watch your feet,” Quimby said. “The kitchen is the best way to sneak in guests. As long as you’re one of the Fifteen.”
Cole’s stomach twisted at the task ahead: stealing Thusk’s keys. He didn’t think he could do it yet somehow had to succeed.
They entered an open passage where yeasty bread and roasting venison briefly replaced the dread in Cole’s stomach with anticipation. To the right, a vast kitchen bustled with men and women preparing food. Ahead, beside a set of double doors, stood a pair of Livna’s men: the Berlander, Thakkar Oruk; and the golden-haired lion, Lysander Thane.
“Quimby.” Thakkar jerked his head in a quick nod, the jagged scar on his face catching the light. “What are you lot doing down here?”
“Giving a tour,” Quimby said.
“The kitchen looks different, it does, than it did last time I was here,” Kurtz said.
