It’d become apparent long ago that Callen, North, and Ana weren’t Harthon’s subordinates. They weren’t even partners. Rather, they were like a sort of family. They bickered. Callen had once tried to kill Harthon. Things had gotten complicated with him and Ana. North was always defying him. But they were like siblings nonetheless, and now, Harthon was setting out without any of those siblings. Just with me, who was his…I didn’t even know.
Callen’s request wasn’t one to be taken lightly, and the fact that he trusted me to watch after Harthon spoke volumes. Fully aware of the responsibility I was accepting, I nodded.
Callen pulled back, only for me to jolt because North’s bald, bearded head was right over his shoulder.
Every muscle locked as I prepared for a fight. North had hardly spoken two words to me since the tense conversation after we returned from the battle against Koerlyn. Based on the scowl darkening his grizzly features, he wasn’t about to shower me with kindnesses.
With one massive, threatening step forward, he bore down on me. “This better not be for nothing.”
“Do you think I want to leave Merelda and gallivant through First because I’mbored?” I snapped.
Closing the remaining distance, he snarled, “No. What Ithinkis that the people here believe in you far more than they should, because we all feel a little desperate.”
I set my jaw, even as I internally flinched.
Speaking at a volume only I could hear, he continued, “Harthon is a bad motherfucker. But his mind is muddled when it comes to you, and you could very well get him killed. He supports you when you haven’t done a damn thing to earn it, except show up here with those eyes you stole and cause problems.”
My internal flinch became an external one.
“If he dies because of you, I will kill you myself. Do you hear me?”
Hatred leaked from every pore, nearly swallowing me in its potency.
I returned the sentiment, but my hatred wasn’t as strong as his, because his mean, targeted words had just ripped into that dark, shadowed place where I’d been carefully storing my doubts.
I wanted to shove his words in his face,to tell him I was not the liability he thought me to be. But I couldn’t, because I didn’t fully believe it. I was a burden on a battlefield. I was still learning how to navigate politics. All I offered was a nugget of knowledge that would lead us into the Domus, and nothing more.
So all I hissed through my teeth was, “Do right by South. That boy thinks you’re the damned sun in the sky. It’d be a shame for him to turn out like you.”
I walked off before I could see my words land. Harthon sent me a shrewd look as he passed me. I gave an unbothered smile in return. He needed to say goodbye to his brothers, and my animosity with North wasn’t going to ruin that moment.
My horse had already been prepared, but I went over every buckle and saddlebag anyway. We were traveling light. The shipwe were taking to Sixth would be stocked with provisions, and we wouldn’t need much when we stayed with Princeps Aric. After that, our journey into First demanded we be light and nimble, making due with the bare necessities.
“All good?” The question came from Stefano, who was already mounted.
I jiggled one last buckle. “My stuff is good. Areyou?”
He appeared sturdy and strong on his horse, but I knew it was a show. He was supposed to be recovering from his wounds for at least another few days, not accompanying us on a dangerous quest.
But he’d gone to Harthon yesterday and demanded to come along anyway. With Harthon away for such a long time, and us still not knowing if Koerlyn was dead, North and Callen had to remain at the Citadel. Harthon had chosen two of his best soldiers to journey with us in their stead. The small group was a tactical decision: the fewer of us there were, the easier it would be to hide from anyone who might want to kill us, both in First Territory and the Domus. Stefano petitioned to replace one of those men, and because he was a damned prodigy at fighting, Harthon agreed.
Sutures were still holding Stefano’s injuries together. The healer had to spend time yesterday teaching him how to remove them, so he could do it himself while we traveled.
“This might be the seventh time you’ve asked me that,” he remarked.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I’m fine. For the next two days, we’ll be riding horses within our own Territory. Then we get on a boat, and there’ll be nothing for me to do but sit and watch the sailors do their work. I’ll be in perfect condition by the time we arrive in Sixth.”
As long as everything went smoothly—which never seemed to happen with me around.
“I can’t believe Harthon agreed to this,” I grumbled, even though I absolutely could. Stefano was both unusually skilled and incredibly trusted.
I eyed the other soldier, Joris, who was coming with us. I remembered him from when Harthon first took me. He was one of the men who’d been with Harthon long before he became Princeps. With gray-speckled hair, he was older than all of us, a family man. It was no easy sacrifice for him to join us, but there were few Harthon trusted with a quest like this, or the truth of what I was here to do.
Jangling metal drew my attention behind Joris, to where Jac was mounted on his horse. Thick, rusted chains linked his wrists together, while his hair hung in scraggly tangles. He didn’t look well, but he wasn’t dead. And he’d been given his own horse to ride.
He caught me looking and dipped his chin.
