‘You’re being trained, Sorrow. You’ll harness your power and, I don’t know, control the bloody mice to organise your notes or perhaps train that wolf of yours to understand your system.’
‘He’s notmywolf and the answer is, and always will be, no.’
‘No?’
I nodded, refusing to look his way. There’d been a rather annoying hint of mirth in his tone.
‘We’ll see what Glesni has to say about that. I think you’re about to meet your match, and I can’t wait to see it.’
I whipped my head round, ready to tell him where Glesni could stick her match, when Matthias’s attention locked on the road ahead. The mirth was gone and the king of Asmar sat tensely as a rider from the North, nothing more than a plume of dust, tore up the road.
In the next heartbeat, Asher was by Matthias’s side, his guards falling into line.
A messenger, swaddled in a black cloak with a dusty bandana wrapped around his face, pulled his sweat-soaked horse up next to us. The poor creature’s flanks heaved. I wondered why the rider would risk pushing his horse too far.
‘A message for the king?’ Asher’s hand remained on his hilt.
The figure nodded, taking a cream envelope from his saddle bag. Shaking, he handed it to Asher, who in turn placed it in Matthias’s hands.
Matthias tore it open. He searched the letter, his face paling, body slumping. Asher had the same solemn expression as he read over Matthias’s shoulder.
‘What?’ I asked. ‘What does it say?’
Matthias’s throat worked, as though he couldn’t get the words out. He crumpled the letter before throwing it away. Pablo dived after it, grabbing the missive, trotting up to Matthias’s side and holding it up.
‘Not now, Pab,’ I warned the wolf.
‘King…’ My stomach knotted as Matthias’s voice cracked. ‘King Seth has been slain on his way home to Itoras.’
‘He and his whole entourage were set upon. Rebels, apparently,’ Asher added, his usual smile replaced by a grim expression.
‘And without an heir, you’ll never guess who’s set himself up as a temporary ruler?’
I felt the blood drain from my face.
‘Romero?’
Matthias nodded, one hand balled into a tight fist.
‘Do…’ I almost didn’t want to ask the question. ‘Do you think itwasrebels? Do you think it could have been Drufaera?’
Rubbing his jaw, he looked at me. ‘I can’t say for certain, but we all turned on him in the meeting. Seth gave in and you saw how Romero reacted.’
‘He’s going to pick you off. One. By. One,’ Asher said, taking the soggy letter from Pablo and tossing it away. The damned wolf raced after it once more.
‘Romero’s going to get too powerful.’ Matthias’s eyes glazed over as he stared at the wolf. ‘Too strong. I-I won’t be able to stop him.’
‘Of course you will,’ I said, straightening up and setting my horse off. If Romero had turned his sights to killing off The Alliance, I truly had no time to train. Every moment would need to be spent on finding that damned elusive mine. ‘Don’t forget, you’ve got an incredibly stubborn wife now. You’re not fighting him alone.’
I looked back, making out the whisper of a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth.
‘That’s true. I just hope your stubbornness doesn’t kill me before I get the chance to see you thwart him.’
CHAPTER 13
One case in particular stood out: that of thirteen-year-old Summer Hanvers. The eldest of six siblings whom she’d adored. Her mother refused my request to train her, arguing that following the death of her husband, Summer was needed at home. One month after Summer reported her first headache, I visited to ensure she trained. Alas, I was too late. The house was awash with blood and viscera. Summer had torn apart her entire family before ripping herself to shreds.
— MRS GLESNI GRACE’S ADVICE FOR MENTORS: THIRD EDITION
