His body was lax, tied chest-down to the horse’s saddle, hands that were too pale dangling by the animal’s belly. That was what I saw first, before I mustered enough bravery to glance at his face.
It wasn’t there.
His head had been severed, the horse’s entire side stained crimson from his blood.
My belly rolled as I shifted my gaze—a shift that only made things worse, because then I was looking at the horse’s rump, where a rope had been secured, the loose end tied around a clump of long, gray hair attached to the very head that was missing—
I managed to turn away from Harthon before losing my stomach. Aric danced out of the way just in time.
Hands tugged my hair away from my face, then thinking about my own hair had me thinking aboutJac’shair, still attached—
I vomited again.
Harthon tugged me upright, bravely placing himself in my line of vision. “Breathe,” he ordered, hands on my cheeks.
“Who did that?” I gasped, wiping my mouth.
“Horrads.”
“How can you be certain?”
It was Aric who answered. “Aside from them being some of the only people beyond those mountains, they were kind enough to leave us their signature.” I didn’t want to know what that was, but Aric elaborated anyway. “They cut into his cheeks and stitched his mouth into a smile.”
“Breathe,” Harthon murmured again, no doubt sensing the bile crawling back up my throat.
“Why is that their signature?” I managed.
“Could represent how they feel about this victory, or could just be a damn effective warning to stay away,” Aric mused. He humphed with an inappropriate amount of amusement. “Tell me you aren’t still considering going into First to say hello to the Princeps.”
Harthon’s lips flattened. Dragging his gaze away from mine, he looked at Aric. “If you have any information that will make the venture easier, I’d appreciate you sharing it.”
Aric considered him for a beat before stating, “You’re going into First for something else. Something so important you’d risk all of your lives for it. And it involves our dear Etarla with themagvis’eyes, which means it probably has something to do with those big old shimmering walls.”
Harthon didn’t respond. Neither did I.
Aric shrugged. “Out of everyone in this Territory, I’m the man with the most experience sneaking into my neighbor’s yard,which means I can prepare you best.” Knowing eyes landed on me as he grinned, the expression edged with bite. “But you’ll finally have to admit she isn’t themagvis. And I’ll most likely want to come with.”
* * *
We sat around the fireplace again, the hollow eyes of Aric’s trophies watching us like an audience. My skin didn’t prick as it had the first time, though.
The skeletons were nothing compared to what had been done to Jac.
I’d seen death. The aftermath of battle. The pain Koerlyn inflicted on innocent villagers. But nothing could have prepared me for that sight. Even Stefano’s face had taken on a green tinge.
“Here. You could use this.”
I glanced up to see Aric offering me a drink. I took it, because he was probably right. Though I’d need more than one cup to erase the gruesome image from my mind.
He settled into his chair with a dramatic sigh before cutting straight to the point. “So. You aren’t themagvis, but you have her eyes, which means you’re…something.”
Ally or not, it was a terrible idea to trust Aric with this information. We were in his Citadel, surrounded by his soldiers and his people. He could betray us, kill Harthon, and force me to take him into the Domus, where he would have full control over the resources there.
But our chances of making it to that hidden path alive were terribly small without his help. Neither option was good, but one of them offered a greater chance of survival. Still, I deferred to Harthon, allowing him to make that final decision. I sure as skies didn’t want that responsibility.
In a voice that suggested he wasn’t worried at all, Harthon confirmed, “She is not themagvis, as far as we know. But she knows where we can enter the Domus.”
“And that location is in First,” Aric concluded.
