Cason lifted his chin. “I’m not hiding from my magic, and I will not participate in what you are doing to those prisoners.” He stood gingerly and let out a breath. “I take pride in my position as the prince’s captain. I believe in Serill, and one day, he will make a great king. I look forward to serving him.”
Thierry leaned back in his chair again. “I’m not surprised. Your mother would be disappointed in your wasted gifts.”
Cason swallowed the bile in his throat. He didn’t actually know what she’d say. Part of him wanted to believe she’d never be disappointed in his choices. Part of him knew she’d joined Anfroy’s army, competed for a position with the Elite, and worked under King Raff for a reason.
“What is your business in Rooke?” Cason asked.
Thierry smiled and shook his head. “Nothing that concerns the prince of Severina’s captain. Now, if you were to come back to Ciethy…”
Without answering, Cason turned and walked out of the office, pretending he didn’t hear his father’s last words.
“When you change your mind, let me know. I’ll be waiting.”
* * *
Three bodies followedher as she sprinted. Faster, faster through the humid air that made breathing difficult. Darting between trees and weaving in random patterns. Climbing and leaping over branches, dragging her scent everywhere.
They kept up, spread wide when she picked a target to hunt, then caught back up to her random paths. Four hells, they continued togainon her.
How?
She twisted around a line of trees and jumped without looking, catching the low hanging branch with her forearms instead of her hands. The shadows had been off a fraction in telling her where the bough was. It was only a momentary setback as she gripped the tree and swung herself to the next, but it was alarming enough.
The shadows were wrong. They’d… lied to her? That wasn’t possible, unless…
Brela found purchase on a solid branch and pressed her back against the tree, heaving for breath. She shouldn’t be out of breath, even with the thick air around her and after sprinting for such a short amount of time. She scrambled for the neck of her shirt and pulled it over her nose for several breaths, willing her lungs to settle, then lifted her nose to the air.
Hellthorn.
Shit, shit, shit, it was in the gods-damnedair. She’d been breathing it in such small amounts, she hadn’t noticed that little pepper scent underneath the smell of the summer forest. Who the hells was following her close enough to manipulate the water in the air? And who the hells knew her weakness?
“Come out, come out and play, you little bitch,” a man’s voice called.
Ripley.
Shiiiit.
She should have used that gods-damned knife to tear off his hand and then rip out his throat weeks ago. When had Ripley grown balls? When had he grown abrain?
“You can’t hide forever, Night Terror.”
Gerrart? Well, that still didn’t explain who the brain was.
Brela hopped to the next branch, knees already growing weak. She needed to end this quickly. The third man was still unknown, but he couldn’t be that much of a challenge. Ripley would be the priority, even if he was the weaker opponent. Gerrart would set his sights on Night Carver and would be reckless with his weapons. She could use that against him.
Four hells, she could use the celvusa against them.
Mid-jump, she reached for the leash with her left hand.
The tendril of power turned to dust in her fingers as hellthorn burned her skin.
“No!”
Flailing, she hit the next branch off balance, twisted, and slammed to the ground. Swearing colorfully, she wobbled to her feet. The three men surrounded her, the air getting thicker, fogging her eyes and blurring the forest.
One of the men laughed from nearby. She flashed an obscene gesture toward the noise.
Free for five minutes and already in a fuck ton of trouble.
