Pieces of iron fall away, clattering against the bars before dropping to the floor of the cage. Therin staggers back, eyes wide, hand flying to his throat. His fingers probe the skin around the wounds left there.
Then he looks at me. His eyes are wet.
I’ve seen Therin kill a thousand men without flinching. I’ve seen him laugh in the middle of battle, blood on his face, and a blade in each hand. I’ve seen him take wounds that would drop a lesser warrior and keep fighting until his enemies werenothing more than meat at his feet.
I’veneverseen him weep.
“Luchairn Vaedráfn.” His voice breaks on my name. He reaches through the bars and grips my forearm. “You came back for us.”
I grip his arm in return. His skin is thin over bone, wasted by years of captivity, but his grip is still strong.
“Did you doubt me?”
“Never.” He shakes his head, a rough laugh escaping him. “When they said the female was missing, I knew … Iknewyou would return.”
We were caged twenty feet apart. Close enough to see each other, far enough that we couldn’t speak without the guards hearing. Some nights I’d catch his eyes through the bars, and we’d hold each other’s gaze until dawn. Saying nothing while saying everything.
Therin was my second in command before the Sealing. My sword-brother. The one who stood at my back and fought beside me until we were both drenched in blood and surrounded by bodies.
“Can you fight?”
He releases my arm, and steps back. The tears are gone now, and what replaces them is something I recognize. That hot, eager thing that lives inside me, too. His smile is cold. “Try and stop me.”
I open the cage door, and he steps out. For a heartbeat, he stands there, swaying slightly. Then he breathes deep, his chest expanding, and closes his eyes, tipping his face up toward the moon.
When he opens them again, something has shifted. The warrior I remember glints in his eyes. Older, thinner, scarred in ways that won’t show on his skin. But still Therin. Still one of mine.
“Vel next. Then Serath.”
I nudge the crumpled guard with one booted foot. “He won’t last much longer. We may be able to free Vel using him, but we will need a replacement.”
Therin’s smile widens, showing teeth.
“Then let us do what we do best.”
SEVENTEEN
ALLERIA
The carriage has barely rolledto a stop before Brennan is opening the door. He gets out first, then reaches up to help me down. My legs are unsteady, and I grip his arm hard until I’m on the ground. He doesn’t comment on it.
“Your father is coming,” he murmurs.
I turn to see the king hurrying across the courtyard, at a fast walk. Not running. Kings don’t run. But he’s moving faster than I’ve ever seen. His face is tightly controlled, the mask he wears for court and council firmly in place. His eyes give him away, though. They’re too bright, and when he reaches me, the mask cracks.
“Alleria.” His voice breaks on my name. “Gods, Alleria.”
He pulls me into his arms so hard it drives the air from my lungs. Over his shoulder, I see my sister. She’s standing a few paces back, hands clasped in front of her, relief and worry on her face. When my father finally releases me, she steps forward and hugs me. Her embrace is gentler than his. She’s never been comfortable with overt displays of emotion.
“We thought—” She swallows. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Me too.”
My father keeps one hand on my shoulder as we walk inside, and I wonder if he’s afraid I might disappear again if he lets go. Nella appears through the archway of the reception hall when we walk inside. She takes one look at me and her face crumples. Then she’s running toward me, propriety forgotten as she throws her arms around my neck.
“I’m sorry.” She’s crying. “I’m so sorry. I should have stayed. I should have?—”
“It wasn’t your fault.” I hold her tight, breathing in the familiar scent of her. “Nella, it wasn’t your fault.”
