I had, ja. Now? I flashed a too-sweet smile. “For all you know, I came to make sure your stay is the five-star experience of my dreams.” Oh, how I despised this man I used to adore. Every time I glanced at him, I recalled the savage way he’d torn my innocent mother to shreds with his teeth and claws. How he’d then turned on me and my sisters, intending to end us next.
“A glass of whiskey wouldn’t be amiss. Perhaps a warm towel.” He sniffed the air and frowned. Sniffed again and grinned. Somehow, he became even stiller. “Mmm mmm mmm. What isthis? Is that a Yrnblade mark I see on you?” His attention zeroed in on my throat. “Ooooh. It is. Another problem for your queue, ja?”
Dread prickled my nape. The Yrnblade. The weapon the Locke had used on me. Cedric saw its mark, even though the wound had healed. He now knew each of my weaknesses. The Yrnblade, which bonded me to Taron. The chains that summoned me to whoever wore them, and the family curse lorded over both, demanding I burn and remake my soulmate.
Reveal nothing. I anchored my arms behind my back to hide my balling fists and tilted my head in the same unnerving way the professor had done when he’d looked me over. “I have no problems, prisoner. Only solutions.”
“Now, now. We both know that’s a lie. Though I’mhappy to take one of those so-called solutions off your plate. A favor from father to daughter, no payment required. When I’m free, I’ll handle Lorik. How about that, hmm?”
A “favor” offered only because he intended to reclaim his crown. A way to prove to my people he could handle an enemy I could not.
I countered with a subtle quest for information. “And what of Nyla? Do you expect a dead woman to reign at your side?”
Would he admit he believed she still lived?
Judging by the slight jump of a muscle in his jaw, the questions bothered Cedric. Good. Like me, he tended to mask his inner emotions.
As a cover, he unveiled another grin. “You should be more concerned with the Yrnblade. Your doom is set, daughter.”
Dread punched me.
And he wasn’t done. “Desperation for the one who cut you will grow and grow and grow until you’re crazed.” His smile faded. His voice became a grumble. “I should know.”
The dread reproduced itself, doubling. I resisted, keeping my nonchalance on display. “Ah. This is the part you say I shouldn’t blame you for your actions because Nyla used the dagger on you.” Hackles sharpened inside me, further resistance against the trepidation he attempted to stoke. I gripped the bars, intending to…something. How dare he go there.
The throbbing erupted in my neck, as if attempting to offer proof of his assessment.Doomed…
My dragon engulfed my brain in heat and fury, fueling desperation to reach Taron.
The dagger wouldn’t make me like my father. It wouldn’t. It couldn’t.
But what if it did?
“Although,” Cedric said as though I hadn’t spoken, “what happens to its wielder is far worse.” A manic laugh boomed from him. “Your Locke is better off dead.”
Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of asking for an explanation, or how he’d known about Taron, I moved on to the next topic. “Are you the phoenix?” I asked as casually as I was able. “Is that how you rose from the dead? Or is the goddess responsible?”
“Maybe I am the phoenix.” He shrugged, as if he didn’t care either way. “Perhaps my desire for vengeance brought me back. Could be magic. Doesn’t matter, since we’re both destined for ruin.”
“The only ruin I foresee is yours.” Working my jaw, I sauntered off as if his prediction wasn’t echoing inside my head, a harbinger’s shriek. As if I didn’t see Taron’s image flicker in front of me. As if the professor didn’t say, “Come. Find me.”
I quickened my pace only when I cleared the dungeon.
Another sleepless nightfilled with thoughts of Taron preceded the second morning. When the sun rose, its pale light bled through my windows and painted my bedroom walls in gold and shadow.
Desperate for a distraction, I joined the soldiers guarding our southern traveling stones. The kind of distraction that drew blood rather than memories.
Success!
Three of Lorik’s soldiers slipped through the veil, each carrying sacks that reeked of sulfur and smoke. Commander Hoffmann spotted them first, his sharp whistle splitting the morning calm.
The chase was on. Over dew-slick hills, through the tall whispering grass, and into the marsh where the air hung heavy with rot.
Two of the three died at the hands of my soldiers, but I caught the last before he made anything go boom.
Mud caked my boots, and my hair clung to my damp face on the walk back to camp. The tang of iron filled my mouth. By the time I dropped his limp, blood-slicked body at Commander Hoffmann’s feet, my limbs trembled from the effort.
My breath steamed in the morning chill. “Put him in the palace catacombs, with full sensory deprivation protocols.” Total isolation would ensure we got answers before Lorik even knew he’d lost three men. “Once we have the information we need, pike all their heads and hearts near the stones.”
