“You’ve been spying on me,” Ivenrail roared, shooting to his feet. “Your mother controlled the same threads. Did you think I wouldn’t watch for something like this with her son? She never used them to mask herself. It took me time to see that you could use them in that way.” Spittle flew from Ivenrail’s mouth, spattering the tablecloth.
“I do it when I must.”
“Youneverhave the right to spy onme.” Ivenrail stormed around the table and grabbed both my and Reyla’s arms. “High Advisor Adwarin. Get in here.”
The robed fae man melted into the room as if he’d been hovering outside the door, listening.
“You need me, Your Highness?” His sly gaze landed on me, and his lips curled up.
“Take these Nullens to my room.” Ivenrail glared at Vexxion. “My son and I will have a brief conversation and then, I will join you.”
Before I could rush to Vexxion’s side, the high advisor flitted us to the king’s living area.
As we left the dining room, I heard Drask caw, but I had no way of telling him to remain where he was. If he followed . . . I didn’t want to think about what might happen to him.
The high advisor dragged us across the room and slammed us into chairs placed in front of the unlit fireplace. Vines snaked up from the floor, binding us to the wooden frames before either of us could flinch.
Reyla sat in the chair without struggling, staring at the floor. If there was anything left of her, had she given up?
The Wraithweave game still sat on the table nearby, and someone must’ve been playing, because the game pieces had moved again. The opponent’s master had shifted toward the border between faerie and Nullen territory, bringing his entire team with him, a common strategy.
As for the high lady, she’d taken a new position farther south, standing on the border between Weldsbane and Lydel land with two of her defenders—the dark blue ones. The white one who’d flanked her remained at the starting point. I couldn’t determine how this strategy might work, though I hadn’t played the game often. I had little free time, and I wasn’t as competitive as others. Brodine, for example. He used to play a ruthless game of Wraithweave, to the point he got mad if he lost.
My heart sunk. Would he ever sit across from me at a board like this again, his eyes gleaming with excitement as the play got underway?
With a frown, I looked for the high lady’s shield. It wasn’t beside her or at the starting point with the white defender.
Horror raked across my skin. Had her shield been eliminated already?
“You’re rather aware for a Nullen who was recently drained,” the high advisor said, glancing from the gameboard to me. “Do you enjoy Wraithweave? You recently gave our king the pleasure of a drain on your power. You either have a considerable amount to give, something rare in one of your kind, or . . . Hmm.” He latched onto my chin and shifted my head back, tilting it this way and that, studying my face. “You look different from the other one.”
“We’re not related.”
“It’s not that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ll figure it out. No one keepsanythingfrom me.”
This man was dangerous. He didn’t need to name it. I could smell the taint of it in the air. Selitta and Delaine had been sliced from a nightmare, but he was the whole.
He placed his thumb on the spot on my forehead where Vexxion had marked me and pulled.
Pain stabbed through me like I was being turned inside out and left lying on the floor to bleed. My gasp echoed in the room.
I thrashed in the chair, struggling to break free, the thorns slicing into my flesh. Hot blood trickled down my arms and legs from stinging wounds.
He tugged away his thumb and stepped backward, stillstudying my face. “Veryinteresting. I’ll need more before I can figure you out.”
“I’m a rider from a border fortress,” I sputtered, struggling to catch my breath and maintain the guard on my mind. I felt himprobing. “Nothing else.”
“You’re so much more than a—”
The king appeared behind the high advisor. “What are you doing?” he barked. “I told you to bring them to the room. I did not tell you to do anything else.”
“I was just toying with this one.” He started to turn. “She’s quite unusual, don’t you think?”
He was lifted and flung against the wall, smacking hard enough to jar his skull. His yelp rang out as he slid down the surface, knocking a painting off the wall as he passed. It hit the floor with a clatter, followed by the slump of the high advisor on top of it. He lay on his chest for a moment before groaning and bracing himself up on his forearms, lifting his head to peer around blankly.
