Yes. There’s that. But more importantly, I evaluate the odds the person has of getting away with the betrayal. How strong is their magic? How extensive is their reach? How close can they get to their target?
Salom ticks two out of three: influence and proximity.
After telling my father about my plan to journey home in the coming days and asking him to give Shoshair and Mádhi a great big hug from me, I melt back into skin and track Salom’s path toward the War Room with my gaze.
And then I take Aodhan’s concern to the next level and ferret out the general’s private quarters from Lachlano—who informs me that all is calm aboard the Shabbe-bound galleon and that he’s turned tail.
Under the glamour of invisibility, I baste one of Salom’s walls with blood before lifting an object he hopefully won’t miss.
30
KONSTANTIN
“Apparently, a sailor spied a lone hooded figure walking through the woods along the Voshnan coastline,” Salom says, twirling his spoon into his cup of sugared coffee, which he had delivered to the War Room minutes ago, along with tea and a bowl overflowing with pastries.
Even though the skylight above the table doesn’t reflect the true sky, it does tell the time by mimicking sunrises and sunsets. The glass blushed with a fabricated dawn two hours prior.
“The wanderer was headed in the direction of the capital.” My general leans over and pinches a bulochka filled with rowan berry jam.
“When was this?” Aodhan asks.
“About a week ago.” Salom polishes off the sweet bun in two bites, then reaches for another.
“On foot?” I ask.
He places the golden bun on his plate, tearing off a chunk with his large fingers this time. “Sleighs can’t get through the copse of trees, Kostya. Besides, all the roads leading in and out of Voshna and the capital were being monitored by soldiers.”
Having hiked the distance myself a century ago, I muse, “So she would’ve arrived a day or two ago in the city.”
“Unless she collapsed along the way,” my general says, licking a glob of jam off his fingers.
“My niece is a full-blooded Faerie.” In other words, there’s no reason she would’ve collapsed.
“If she has made it into the capital, how in the world did she get past your soldiers, Salom? Aren’t they verifying identities?” Aodhan asks.
Salom sits up and squares his shoulders, pricked by Aodhan’s insinuation that the men under his control did a shoddy job. “Unlike Shabbins, we do not have wards around the city walls, so perhaps she managed to weasel her way through.”
“Weasel or?—”
Salom rises so abruptly that he sends his chair skidding backward and then he plants his meaty fists on the table. “I will not stand one more insult from you, Aodhan.”
I sigh and scrub a hand down my face. “Please don’t fight.”
Salom waits for an apology.
“Aodhan?” I tick my head toward Salom.
The shifter works his jaw. “Pardon me for asking questions.”
“Aodhan,” I snap.
My brother-in-law gets up, the whites of his eyes reddened by our sleepless night. “No offense, Salom, but I’m wary of everyone. Especially of those who were loath to promulgate Kostya’s shifter law.”
Salom grits his jaw. “I only vetoed it because I worried it would intensify the instability.”
“How clairvoyant you were…” Aodhan’s murmur distends the vein along Salom’s neck and deepens his complexion. “Anyway, I’m off to bed so I can have energy to canvas the forest with Imogen tomorrow—or rather, later on today. Perhaps I’ll ask Isla to help. One more set of eyes?—”
“Don’t involve her,” I say.
