When I look back, Soren is gone.
In his place is the God-King of Selara.
Chapter Fifteen
Ronan’s light flickers, casting erratic shadows over the warehouse before slowly descending to the ground, illuminating the alley with a pale, trembling glow as it fades.
“Calling someone?” I ask.
“Taran and some of the others are nearby.”
I seethe, my heart still pounding from the fear and exertion of the fight. “And you didn’t think that would have been useful five minutes ago?”
He steps closer to me and waits for me to lower my weapons, which I do. Reluctantly. He comes even closer then, standing close enough that I can hear his still-heavy breathing, his eyes pleading with me to listen. “I will explain. When we’re back in the palace, I’ll tell you everything. But please, Sylvie. I’m asking you to keep quiet about what happened until I do.”
I want to say something smart about not needing to listen to him, but something in his expression stops me. It’s not a command. He’sbeggingme. He’s afraid of what will happen if I don’t listen to him.
“Fine,” I say, and he breathes a sigh of relief. “Everything, Ronan.”
Taran arrives then with five other guards in tow. Six trained Royal Guards waiting…where? Down the street?
For fuck’s sake, this better be good.
“Take her to my chambers,” Ronan says, gesturing to me. “Gaius, go with them. The rest of you are with me.”
Taran comes along beside me. “This way, my lady.”
“I’m not a lady,” I say to him. “That’s my sister.”
I’m just Sylvie.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.”
I follow Taran into the street. Bodies are strewn across the cobblestones, some twisted and contorted, others bloodied. But a few of the fallen—the ones taken down by Ronan’s light magic—look eerily peaceful.
“Quite a fight,” says Taran. “He should have called us sooner.”
“That’s what I said.”
Taran gives me a shy smile and then leads me up the hill, tracing our steps back to the market with the other guard trailing behind at a bit of a distance.
We walk in silence for a time. Taran rolls his neck, running his hand through his blond hair. He looks tired. From the ringing of the temple bells, the hour is late.
“How long were you out here?” I ask him.
“A few hours.”
“Were you watching the warehouse?”
“No. He wouldn’t tell us where it was meant to happen.”
Interesting. I had the impression that Ronan trusted Taran, but it sounds like he keeps some things from even his closest guard.
I can sense there’s more that Taran would like to say, but he says nothing.
I can imagine why. The last time I saw him just a few days ago, I had been deeply insulting.
