Shadow crawled over my skin, hardening into steel. A second later, I stood fully armored, my sword strapped to my back.
“Where are you going, Wolfe?” Alaric grabbed my arm.
“I’m going to pay Dreynthor a little visit.”
“My boy, please do not do anything rash.” Kaem stepped in. “Your uncle is the steward of this kingdom. You cannot just kill him. We need hard evidence or a confession. I was lucky to get one of the rebel generals. I doubt I’ll be as fortunate again.”
“Iamgoing to see him,” I insisted. “And I will decide what to do with him then.”
“Okay, I’ll go back out.” He dipped his head. “There are some other things I need to do. You… be careful.”
“I will.”
He phased, leaving Alaric and me.
“Be mindful of your condition, brother,” Alaric warned.
“Don’t worry about me. Stay here and man the place. I’ll report back later.”
Within a blink, I left too, rage consuming me.
I didn’t know how I was going to control myself when I saw Dreynthor.
I made for the palace at once. He was usually in the accounts chamber at this hour. I portaled into the eastern wing—close enough, but not directly into his rooms in case he had company. I made my way down the corridor, relieved to find it empty.
As I approached, I saw the double doors stood slightly ajar.
I pushed them open and a strong scent hit me.
I stalled. I knew that scent.
Metal and honey and tar.
Nightmother’s kiss.
The same poison that killed my father.
The last time that scent had clung to these palace walls, my father had been found dead on cold stone.
Nightmother’s kiss was not used casually. It was not carried for show. You only smelled it when someone intended to end a life.
My steps slowed. I scanned the room carefully. If someone was waiting to strike, I needed to be ready.
I turned the corner and froze in place, my lungs locking, my heart galloping.
Dreynthor lay sprawled on the stone floor. A sword jutted from his chest, slick with Nightmother’s kiss. Black tar bubbled around the wound, mixing with blood,somuch blood.
His eyes were wide and unseeing.
He was dead.
Dead.
Just like Father. The same way as Father.
I moved as close as I dared—close enough to see, not close enough to die from a poison lethal to Fae.
Who would have done this?
