Why had he always been such a selfish cad? “I’m sorry, Zanna. Truly. I never meant for you to lose your position, eh? Only wanted to protect mine. Doesn’t make it right. I see that now. I’ve got no excuse for any of it but my rotting pride, which I promise you is weaker today than it once was.”
Zanna studied him, her dark gaze flitting over his face, and somehow, he felt the fire between them dim. It hadn’t gone out, but she’d banked it. And the heat left her eyes. Finally, she nodded once. “I can see that,” she said. “A little.”
Thank Arman for that. “Thirteen years in a reeking pit does a lot to kill a man’s pride.”
Kurtz had slept through the morning of King Axel’s assassination, drugged by tainted stew, only to wake in a world of Darkness. Falsely accused, convicted, and thrown into the Prodotez: the special hole where Ice Island kept its worst offenders.
“A quarter of the men on Ice Island are innocent,” he said. “Did you know that?”
“Ice Island is nothing if not corrupt,” Zanna said.
He supposed she would know. One couldn’t work there and stay ignorant for long.
“I don’t want to go back there,” Kurtz admitted. “Verdot deserves to be put on trial for his part in King Axel’s death, and I don’t relish groveling to him for a favor.”
Zanna’s scowl softened. One of the little scars on her face ran through the top curve of her lip. He wondered how that had happened. A sword? Knife?
“What they did to you and Eagan,” she said quietly, “was injustice.”
This woman who’d held a vendetta against him all these years, suddenly acknowledging the wrong done to him? A lump lodged in his throat. Time to lighten things up. “Hold on. Was that sympathy? From you?”
Zanna looked away. “Don’t get used to it,” she snapped. “I said it because it’s true, not because I like you.”
“Ah, there’s the venom I know and love.” But he was being a jerk, so he softened. “Thank you. Grudging pity suits you.”
Before she could respond, Loanna arrived, carrying a pitcher and tankard. She resembled her sister Rilla in the way a still lake resembled a rushing brook. Both had dark curls, thick lashes, and curvy figures, but where Rilla was flirtatious, Loanna carried quiet strength. Kurtz had loved “Lo,” as he’d called her, more than anyone—Rilla included. If he lingered on the thought too long, it still made him ache.
“Kurtz Chazir,” she said.
“Lo!” He stood and pulled her into a warm embrace. “Rilla said you married.”
“I did.” She poured him a tankard of blackbrew. “Edric Tamsin. His wife died three years back. His children are ten and twelve now. Briony’s the younger—already in bed. Edric and Dain went to Hargis’ cabin to hunt for an eider duck for my ageday dinner.”
Kurtz grinned. “It’s that time of year, isn’t it? A blessed ageday to you, Loanna. Wish I had something to give you.”
“I don’t need another shell necklace.”
“You kept it?” He’d crafted the trinket himself when he was fifteen.
“Gave it to Briony last year. She found it in an old chest and admired it.”
Kurtz rather liked the thought of a child wearing it. He turned his chair the right way and sat down again, inhaled the scent of malted barley, molasses, cinnamon, and figs.
“You seem happy,” he said.
“I am. We’ve a good life here.”
“I’m glad of that. Congratulations, Lo.”
“You hungry?”
“Nope. Ate before I came.”
Lo turned to Zanna. “Can I get you anything else, Miss Anna?”
“No, thank you.”
Kurtz took a sip of his blackbrew, warmth flooding his belly. “Ah, that’s good, it is.”
