“She doesn’t matter.”
“She matters to me.”
“Bullshit.” Rowan spat and thrusted a stiff finger forward. “You haven’t cared about anyone other than yourself since Vessik turned your wife into an undead puppet.”
An eerie silence. And then, “Lepides skion.”
A burst of black and green mist appeared and twisted into ethereal daggers that circled the banneret like a small tornado. The lash of magical recoil snapped through Sikras’s body, and damn, he never missed his beloved scythe-turned-walking-stick more than he did in that moment, but he held his ground.
Rowan went rigid, chest stilling. He dared not breathe, dared not inhale the tainted oxygen.
Sikras grinned. “Can’t hold your breath forever, Banneret.”
Tossing the bowl of food to the ground, Benjamin scrambled over, pointing a chastising finger Sikras’s way. “Hey, no,nocreepy shadow blades. You promised me. ‘I’ll stab Vessik in the fucking face, Benjamin;’ that’s what you said, word for word.”
Shit. He did say that. Adding insult to injury, Benjamin’s Sikras impression remained flawless as ever. Grumbling, Sikras curled his fingers into a fist and severed concentration on the spell. As the mist vanished, the remaining sentinels surrounded him, all exhibiting confusion, all exhibiting fear, weapons ready, poised to fight if needed.
“Dammit, Catseye.” Rowan sneered, taking in a sharp breath once the threat of inhaling organ-withering mist had passed. “Stop resisting and step up for your kingdom.”
“Kingdom, kingdom, kingdom.” Sikras rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Rowan, that’s all you go on about. Did you ever stop to consider my feelings? That maybe I only like two or three people tops in the aforementioned kingdom?”
“Pathetic,” Rowan rasped, spittle flying between his clenched teeth. “You may not appreciate them, butIwant to save this kingdom’s people. Unlike you, I have a fucking soul!”
“No.” In the face of Rowan’s anger, Sikras formed a slow, calm smile. “You don’t have a soul; youarea soul. What you have is a body. And if you talk to me like that again, I will kill that body, rip your soul back from Enos, and shove it so far up the asshole of the next decaying animal carcass we find that only a second death or a bout of violent diarrhea will dislodge you.”
“Kill me? How?” Rowan’s booming voice exploded through the trees, and whatever shred of diplomacy he had three seconds ago vanished. “You’ve felled no more foes than an ambitious squire with a sharp stick couldn’t have felled themselves!”
“Listen, pal”—Sikras stuck out a finger but paused to scrunch his nose—“that’s ... Actually, that’s pretty accurate. I can’t in good conscience argue that statement.”
“Fuck this. I’ve had enough.” Rowan kicked an empty pail. One of the sentinels ducked to avoid its forceful trajectory. “Get out of here, Catseye. Crawl back to the almshouse if you want that demon so much. You may have charmed Queen Saelihn into thinking you’re anything other than a pathetic piece of shit, but your charisma won’t work on me.”
“Aww.” Sikras flashed a cynical smirk and laid a hand over his chest. “You think I’m charismatic?”
“Get out!”
“Right. Got it.” Walking backward, Sikras thumbed behind him. “You’ll understand if I look over my shoulder as I slink away? You know, to spare myself the very real fear that you might stab me in the back? Again?”
Rowan’s narrow-eyed gaze darkened. “Why would I grant you the mercy of a swift death when it would be far crueler for you to live long enough to suffer the consequences of your inaction?”
Sikras scoffed. “With all due respect, which I’ll admit is very little, I must know; what the fuck do you have against me? I know we were never buddy-buddy when I worked for Saelihn in the past, but I don’t remember you being this much of a prick.”
“What do I have against you?” The question echoed from Rowan’s mouth, hostile and unnerving. He marched toward Sikras, his shadow falling over him, like an ominous cage. “While you were busy throwing your four-year-long pity party, resurrecting dead peoples’ loved ones for chump change, I was busy keeping Vessik’s minions at bay. I was the one keeping Nyllmas’s people safe.”
Refusing to shrink under Rowan’s shadow, Sikras inclined his chin. “And you’re mad that you had to do your job?”
“I’m mad that I had to doyourjob. And when my daughter came of age and joined the R.S., she went off to do your job, too. She was nineteen years old when Vessik’s undead overran her and gutted her with a pike. Nineteen when I had to dismember her corpse so Vessik couldn’t reanimate her, turn her into an abomination, and make her body fight for his depraved fucking cause. I did the unthinkable to honor her legacy. You couldn’t even bother to do the bare minimum for your wife. What you’ve done to your queen, your kingdom, to Sentinel Champion Reese, sickens my soul, and no number of past deeds done in justice’s name will ever compensate for the shameful disgrace you turned out to be.”
Wow. That was a lot to unpack. Sikras bristled under the heat of Rowan’s glare, but rage slowly converted into a rare flicker of empathy, and he said the only thing that seemed important in the moment. “I’m sorry about your daughter.”
Rowan pressed his lips into a tight line and turned away. “The first year you holed up in your mansion, you had my pity, and I still had hope. The second year, my pity waned, but hope remained. By year three, that hope dried up. Here we are, year four, and all that remains is disgust. Get out of my sight. Return to Vinepool. Turn yourself in and rot in whatever dungeon the queen assigns you. Come what may, we’ll finish this without you.”
“Rowan—”
“Get out!”
The two words echoed through the leafless trees, and Sikras stood, unflinching. His gaze slid to Benjamin, the closest thing he had to a moral compass, to seek guidance. He found none. In silence, he relented with a nod, turned his back, and blazed a trail to Vinepool.
PERHAPS THE CIRCUMSTANCESmade the wind feel colder. The gales that once caressed Sikras’s face stung his cheeks like a nest of invisible hornets. Poor blood circulation certainly didn’t help either. Failing to suppress a shiver, he blew an icy breath into his cupped hands and frowned.
