“Something attacking at night, the farmer said. Outside the wall, and now this.”
The last made my stomach twist. Merrick had mentioned this on the day I arrived at Evergorne, how the wall had been built to keep horrors at bay. Dalva’s farm wasn’t within its protection.
We reached the fallen man, and Merrick dropped to one knee beside him, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “Clear out and give him air. All of you, get back.”
I knelt next to Merrick, my pulse pounding in my ears. Long, deep slashes were carved across the lord’s arms and legs, blood gushing through the torn fabric of his clothing. His chest rose and fell in a jerky way, his shredded shirt doing nothing to hide the row of deep gouges there.
Jagged wounds, too irregular to be from a blade.
My gaze shot to his face, and bile surged up my throat. Claw marks ran from his temple to his jaw, his bloodshot eyes barely able to open because of swollen lids.
“Whatever this was tore him apart,” I said, my voice shaking.
Merrick pressed his palm against the deepest of the man’s chest wounds. A low, almost hissing hum swirled around us, andfor an instant, I thought it might work, that he’d stop the bleeding with his magic. That this man might leave here alive.
He moved his hand to the next wound, but there were so many. He swore, his focus on the poor man gulping for air.
“Is he dying?” someone called out.
“His Majesty’s magic will save him. Watch and see.”
“What does this mean?”
Merrick's jaw tightened. My helplessness mirrored his, though I couldn’t afford to let it show.
One king. One queen. We carried the weight for everyone else, together, always. I rubbed his arm to give silent reassurance. A steady presence. Something.
The man’s chest hitched, and a wet, gurgling sound slithered around us. His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to open them, his bleeding face tilting toward Merrick.
“King. My king,” he hissed through bubbling lungs.
Merrick leaned closer, his hand moving to the man’s shoulder. “I’m here. Tell me what happened.”
The man's breath hitched again, the wheezing sound erupting from his throat making my heart clench tight. His lips moved, mouthing something I couldn’t hear.
Merrick's horrified gaze slashed to me before returning to the man.
“What did he say?” I asked.
The man rasped out one word, hoarse and cracking, loud enough to silence everyone in the room. “Borgon.”
My guard barreled through the doors, a healer in tow. She shoved her way to the fallen man and crouched beside him.
But it was too late.
The man's chest stilled, his head lolling to the side as his body went slack. His hand gripping Merrick’s arm fell away, hitting the blood-soaked carpet with a meaty smack.
The healer froze, her eyes locking onto Merrick’s. He bowed his head, his shoulders curling inward.
And as the whispers began again, clawing through the silence like talons, one thing was clear.
The storm brewing inside the castle walls was nothing compared to what waited beyond them.
11
Lorant
“I’m here to inform you that Queen Reyla will not be coming to the tower tonight,” Surren said from behind me.
