“It seems I’ll be walking into that dragon’s lair after all.”
6
Testing Patience
Cason turned his last lap around Gerrart’s townhouse, embracing the burn in his legs from the effort of his morning run. His lungs could have done without the muggy air making it difficult to breathe—and he could have done without the heat, even without the sun—but he savored the movement.
Serill had already stripped his shirt some time after the third lap, but Cason kept his on. Even in the privacy of Gerrart’s gated home, he didn’t need any more attention from the guards stationed throughout the garden or inside the structure. He had already snapped at them last night for lack of formation and the dozens of blind spots they’d left in their patrol. He wished that Serill had allowed them to travel with more guards, but the prince had just waved him off, claiming that they had no enemies in Rooke.
Naïve heir to the throne. Brilliant, cunning, but naïve. Then again, Severina hadn’t seen battle or enemies in decades. Safe on the southern border, the moon-blessed kingdom rarely involved themselves with the raids on Valisea. Rooke and Anfroy probably preferred it that way, getting rich off their spoils from Veil artifacts without much competition.
Cason had seen all of that firsthand, but it was also why he left Anfroy. His parents had been loved in court—his mother an accomplished soldier and his father a brilliant strategist. Cason was meant to follow in their footsteps.
But he saw the change that happened after his mother died. His father had been in charge of her stationing and had dismissed some of the Valisea threats and insurgency—the very rebellion that resulted in her death. While Cason dealt with his grief by studying his sun-blessed fire magic to honor his mother’s memory, his father had done something far worse. The man dug into the depths of his anger and traveled to Valisea with a small party of the most trained and deadly soldiers in Anfroy.
He slaughtered them.
Not a single Veil Worshipper was left in the village where she had been stationed. He made sure they suffered for what they had done to his wife, and then he laughed as he burned their homes with some of them still inside. Women. Children. He did it in her honor.
And Anfroy held a celebration for him.
That wasn’t honor.
Sitting at that dinner—watching his father’s soul be corrupted by the riches and accolades for his destruction—Cason made his choice to never return. He finished his work at the sun temple, packed his belongings, and traveled to the moon temple in Severina to finish his training and make his way into Severina’s Royal Guard. He didn’t want to tempt himself with the same path that had corrupted his father. He wanted away from the raids, the riches, and the elitist magic wielders.
At least Serill’s kindness and gentleness was good for him. Having the prince around to cool his blood made him less likely to snap at the guards who were watching them with dread… watchinghimwith fear.It’s like they could smell the fire burning in his chest.
Cason looked down and grumbled. They didn’t need to smell it. His white shirt had soaked through with sweat, making it translucent and revealing those fire symbols inked into his skin. He should have just tossed his shirt aside when Serill did. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with the stench.
“One of these days I’m going to make you use all your strength,” Serill panted as he slowed outside the back doors, using his dry shirt to mop up the sweat on his face. “I know you’re holding back.”
Cason huffed, pulling his shirt away from his body. “Not today, I didn’t. I haven’t run in humidity like this since I lived in Ciethy.”
“You’re barely out of breath,” the prince groaned, grabbing his skin of water as they walked along the path to cool down. “I’m still surprised you got us up this morning. I figured you’d at leasttryto sleep an hour before you headed to Averlyn.”
“I slept.”
He wasn’t sure why he tried to lie since Serill shot him a glare.
“Really?” Serill grumbled. “I know damn well you knew I was awake all night, too, not that I could get any sleep with you cleaning your weapons the whole time.”
That was true. He’d dozed off a few times, but his senses always woke him up with the slightest movement outside the door or window. After a while, he’d resorted to cleaning the array of blades he’d had tucked against his body last night as a precaution.
Cason grunted as they reached the back of the house where there was a gaping hole into Gerrart’s office. From the outside, he could see no discernible footprints in the grass or any misplaced garden items. There weren’t many objects out here that were big enough to destroy the house like that, or any that were movable by earth-blessed strength, so perhaps the Night Terror had brought his own tools.
Everything about the scene was so well-planned that he couldn’t help but be impressed. He didn’twantto be impressed, but this Night Terror was clever.
“A celvusa,” Serill said, almost laughing. “It’s quite brilliant, if you think about it.” Cason raised his eyebrow as the prince shrugged. “I’m aware Gerrart is my friend, but I have to hand it to this Night Terror. He did a damn good job with this.”
“Assassin, Serill. Why do I need to keep reminding you of that?” the Captain growled.
The prince waved him off. “Maybe I’m less worried about it when I have you on my side.”
“Flattery? Really?” Cason groaned.
His friend just laughed. “It was worth a shot, you emotionless knot of muscles.” Cason snorted as Serill jabbed him with his elbow. “You do need to keep in mind that Gerrart is doing you a favor by letting you go to Averlyn with his guards.”
Cason’s nostrils flared but he kept silent. He despised Gerrart’s guard for their incompetence, but no one more than Rynn who had given those idiotic orders and stations. Lack of discipline and thoroughness got men killed, just like his mother had been. This is why Cason preferred to be in charge. He at least took every possible scenario into consideration, because that preparedness saved lives.
