Sarcasm flicked off my tongue as I growled my response. “Is there blood on your blade?”
“It’s too dark. I can’t tell.”
Gods, this woman would be the death of me. I suspected she wasn’t daft, just … I could not say. “Keep your dagger in one hand at your side,” I instructed, painfully aware of each sound we made. “Pointy end to the floor.”
“Okay.”
Releasing my hold on her, I turned forward again. Letting her follow me went against Rion’s rules, and for good reason. The sting at my side and the unnecessary noise were enough to attest to that. Still, my unease settled, if only slightly, knowing she was within my reach to defend. The elusive stranger—what was it about her that held me in such a way?
Farther down the corridor, one of my boots struck a solid form and nearly tripped me. I braced my right hand against the wall just as the woman collided into my back. Grunting, I suppressed the lecture that rose to my tongue. She was not some young guard in training, nor a messenger—sharp ridicule would not shape her, help her grow. But it might make her crumble, and we could not risk that. At least she’d listened and kept her blade down. With the impact of her stumble, she’d have gutted me. Gods, why had I let her follow?
Crouching, I confirmed my suspicion. Warmth came from the soldier, but his chest did not rise or fall. Someone lurked in the shadows, using the darkness to their advantage. Someone who knew the halls well, then, someone who was trusted.
The physical threat of the situation before us assuaged my monster, and although he scratched from time to time, I was able to keep him under control. Before standing, I felt aboutfor one of the woman’s legs or boots. When I found her, she jumped. At least she remained quiet. Hoping she would catch the implication, I tapped at the toe of her boot several times.Watch your step.
Standing, I kept a hand on the wall and felt out a path with my feet, stepping over the first soldier’s body, then finding the second soldier with my next step. A chill raced down my spine. Behind me, the woman’s breath quickened, but to her credit, she did not falter, testing her steps as she kept just behind me. At one point, she reached out and grasped the back of my uniform. Whether it was for stability or comfort, I was unsure, but it caused my heart to leap.
Some distance farther, a flickering light illuminated a sharp turn of the hallway. I slowed my steps and reached back with my left hand, stilling the woman. A silent command to stay put. This time, she cooperated, likely seeing now the gravity of the situation.
Hand at the pommel of my sword, I stepped to the edge of the corner. The weapon would be awkward to wield in such close quarters, but I would have to make do. Instinct told me to leave the woman with her dagger, even if it would allow me to better defend us both. For a woman to carry a blade as she did was unusual; I suspected she needed it as a comfort of some sort.
I stepped with practiced movement, my left foot first, to turn the bend, my hand at the ready. But I was greeted by only an empty corridor. Nothing appeared out of place. Ahead, the wall sconces remained lit. No. One farther down was quenched. My stomach curled. Someone was playing a game with me. It explained my missing dagger, too.
“Come,” I said to the woman, needing her beside me and not in the shadows. My mind raced with implications.
Not many options left to me. If we turned back, we would be vulnerable from behind. Yet continuing forward was certainlythe purpose of this message. Who knew I was in the tower with the woman? Though Cyan despised me, I did not suspect he had the forethought to stage such a thing. Nor did I suspect he would strike from the shadows. Cyan was impulsive, brash—the opposite of his father, Rion.
Rion. I swallowed. The mishap with the carriage was not reason enough to lure me to death’s door. Not even enough to dismiss me. Or perhaps that was the cause; perhaps he needed a way to be rid of me. Did he want the Valio job for his son? Firming my jaw, I set a slow pace forward.
When we reached the unlit sconce, I hesitated. The feeling of being watched scraped at my consciousness, and I spoke to the woman beneath my breath. “Is anyone behind us?”
She pivoted, her boots making more noise than necessary. “No.”
Having no option other than to trust her observational skills, which I was unsure she actually possessed, I kept my eyes trained ahead and began to move again. The corridor ended at a door, one I knew led into one of the castle’s common rooms. Gritting my teeth, I tapped the knob with the back of my hand, suspicious of the games at play, but it was cold to the touch.
Right hand at the pommel of my sword, I opened the door with my left.
The light of chandeliers illuminated the room and spilled into the corridor, causing me to blink as my eyes adjusted. A gurgling, rasping sound came from ahead. The sound of blood filling someone’s lungs. Above that, the hum of festival goers carried from a balcony overlooking the courtyard.
Swallowing, I scanned the room. Accent chairs, recently polished to a black leather, sat close together, arranged around a low table. Chairs for lounging, for conducting intimate meetings. Ahead and to our right, the King’s desk sat with papers strewn atop it, but the legs were thin, impossible to hide behind. Asidefrom that, the room was scantily furnished. Ornate framed oil paintings hung on the walls, and a few potted plants accessorized the space. It was a room for business, not for pleasure.
Content that there was nowhere fit for a man to hide, I moved toward the seating area where the sounds of death had since diminished. A hand, pale, fingers twitching, came into sight between two of the leather chairs. The cuff of the victim’s sleeve was long, stopping at the wrist. It was bunched with intricate designs of golden threading.
“Neirin,” said the woman behind me, her voice shaky, as I continued to move forward.
I saw the dying man first. My breath caught; my steps stilled. My gut roiled, and I nearly lost the alcohol churning in my belly.
Coming to my side, the woman clasped my arm and sharply sucked in her breath. “Oh, gods.”
10
NEIRIN
Looking downat the body of the King—of my father—a cool displacement settled over me. The sight before me was so overpowering, it numbed me and set me apart from myself. He trembled with spasms. His mouth gaped for air. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips, but I knew him to be lost to the world already. There was a haze in his eyes, wide and set on the ceiling. That look spoke of death.
The woman at my side broke from the stupor of shock first and rushed to the King. Her quick movement tore me from my displacement. As she knelt, hands quivering, my heart leapt back into rhythm.
“You must go,” I said, the words coming out forced.
