My father’s eyes gleamed with approval. “The traitor cannot reveal what they don’t know.”
Lord Vor frowned. “What will be in the shipment? We can’t risk losing further supplies should anything go wrong.”
“The wagons will be empty.” I pointed toward the map, running my finger along the green lines that sat alongside thered. “The real shipment is going to be transported to the palace via these routes.”
More nods of approval greeted my explanation.
“And what if, after all this,” — Fallon waved a hand over the parchment — “they still don’t take the bait?”
I grinned then, all teeth and menace. “Then we shrink our suspect pool considerably.”
“Meaning?”
“To those sitting around this table.”
The council shared uneasy glances.
I was certain the traitor was one of them, and I had just laid the perfect trap. Either they allowed their allies to be crushed, ending the threat they posed to the kingdom. Or they showed their hand, warning the rebels but exposing their own throats in the same breath.
It was beautiful chaos, and I was eager to let it reign.
Chapter Forty
Cadence
The King had ordered his sons to stay behind following the council meeting, and I used the opportunity to slip away without an escort. Eamon had been dismissed, given Ryker hadaccompanied me, and the brief respite from ever-watchful eyes was a welcome one.
I knew I was goading Ryker’s anger, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I turned down the nearest hallway, which stretched out before me, seemingly endless. The air was stale and musty, as if nobody had passed through for some time. Portraits of long-dead royals and vengeful gods lined the walls, and I paused to take them in.
My footsteps echoed as I drifted down the passage, studying each portrait. The occasional door creaked somewhere nearby, and laughter filtered through, breaking the otherwise quiet atmosphere.
I found myself lost in the paintings and the stories they must hide. Running my hand along the wall, I let the cold, smooth stone press against my fingertips. It was a stark contrast to the coarseness of the canvases. Countless tiny ridges and divots littered the parchment where the thick strokes of oil paint had dried unevenly. Each brushstroke had left a subtle trail — raised in places, sunken in others — creating a landscape of texture beneath my fingertips.
So engrossed in the paintings, I didn’t hear the shuffle of feet behind me until it was too late. The smell of leather filled my nose, and a gloved hand covered my mouth as someone dragged me into the dark alcove. I struggled to escape my captor’s grip, but my fight died when the sharp tip of a dagger pressed against my lower abdomen.
“You should pay more attention, Lady Cadence.” The voice was low and rough, yet familiar.
I began to turn around to see who held me captive, but stopped when my attacker pushed the blade farther into my stomach.
“That would be unwise,” the man warned.
I stiffened in his hold but didn’t struggle.
“Your father’s patience is running out.”
All the blood drained from my face.
This man was Wraith Borne.
“He wants the information you promised, and he’s done waiting.”
I didn’t bother pointing out that I promised nothing. My father had thrust me back into Ryker’s arms and demanded I betray him under threat of death. Of course, I had no intention of doing that. Though it wasn’t out of loyalty to my husband, I just didn’t like being told what to do.
“I’m waiting,” the man said, the tip of his knife tapping against my belly.
I struggled to organize my thoughts while trying to find something harmless to share that wouldn’t put Ryker or his people at risk. I had no love lost for the Unseelie Council, but there were fae within the kingdom that deserved my protection.
