“Help with what exactly?” Reece asked as his beast turned over uncomfortably.
Tor leaned forward and dropped his voice even lower. “Did you ever wonder what happened to the traitors of Ravenstone?”
A ripple of scales slithered up his arms. In the aftermath of the massacre, they had been certain the traitors were Verturian. They had blamed Alanna and Val.
Later they’d learned the truth: Ballanor had arranged the whole thing and Alanna and Val were innocent. But in all the frantic days of trying to survive, no one had questioned exactly who could have carried out the massacre. Honestly, given the brutality of King Geraint’s death and the rune-covered arrows left behind, Reece had still suspected the Verturians.
But that wouldn’t explain the grim look on Tor’s face. “You know who it was,” Reece said slowly.
A muscle ticked in Tor’s jaw. “It was the Wraiths, under Andred.”
“What!” His voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “That’s not possible.” Reece had known some of those men. He’d been friends with them. He’d grieved them, believing them killed in the massacre. Believing they’d been slaughtered by the Verturians working with Ballanor.
Tor looked around as if checking no one could hear their whispered conversation. “They’ve been living up north ever since Ravenstone. Ballanor promised them gold and power, but then betrayed them and cut them off after the massacre. They’ve been building an army ever since.”
Shit. His scales were all the way up his neck, the heavy stench of the tavern suddenly cloying and stifling. Reece shook his head. “I don’t—”
Tor cut him off, his eyes dark. “They kidnapped Keely.”
Fuck. Reece didn’t even know what to say. What would Andred do with Keely? Gods, the man had zero concerns about anyone except his own squad, and even they came a distant second to his own skin. How could Tor be sitting there so calmly?
“I got her back,” Tor added. Well, that made more sense. “And we came straight back to Kaerlud to warn Lucilla. We think the Wraiths are on their way here.”
Thank the gods, Keely is safe.
Reece and Keely did not have a good history. Just thinking about her and Alanna made his beast writhe in shame, but he actually liked her. Liked her fiery spirit and the way she kept Tor on his toes. He was genuinely glad she was okay.
But if Keely was safe, then why was Tor meeting him in secret in this dingy pub? Gods. There was only one possible reason why the team strategist would set up a clandestine meeting with a former member of the squad while a power-hungry Apollyon with an ax to grind was running around Kaerlud.
“Fuck no.” Reece shook his head, getting ready to push away from the table. “You’re insane,” he hissed, glaring at Tor.
Yes,his beast offered.This is exactly what we should do. Make things right. Earn our way back to the squad.
Tor reached up to wrap a hand behind his neck, and it knocked his hood enough that Reece could see just how exhausted his former friend was. Dark rings under his eyes. Unshaved. Gods. Whatever happened, it had been bad. And then he must have ridden back day and night.
And then Tor had come directly to find him. Reece honestly had no idea how he felt about that.
“We expect the Wraiths to arrive in Kaerlud in the next few days and immediately start working to overthrow Lucilla,” Tor said, almost too quietly to hear. “Knowing Andred, there’s probably already a plan in place. We need to know what they’re going to do. And we need the names of everyone who supports him.” Tor dragged a heavy hand down his face. “We expect he’ll approach former councilors first, so keep that in mind. None of them are above suspicion. Frankly, you should probably start with my family first. My former family.”
“Just like that?” Reece couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “I’ll just drop in for tea, shall I?”
Tor pierced him with a dark look. “No one else can do this, Reece. We need you.”
Reece forced himself to stay in his seat as Tor’s words echoed between them. There had to be a better way. Spying on Andred was a certain ticket to the Abyss, and the road would be as painful as any demon could imagine. “Surely Lucilla can just pay whatever Ballanor owed them. Add in some compensation for the time they’ve spent in hiding, and be done?”
“It’s not that easy. Andred is responsible for the murder of Geraint and the massacre of Ravenstone, as well as the death of half the army he started to build in the north. And he hates Lucilla; he blames her alongside Ballanor and thinks she’s useless and naïve. He’s utterly convinced himself that he should be the king, through his grandfather’s line. Believes it enough that he was able to convince a truth seeker to help him.”
“What kind of idiot truth seeker would work with the Wraiths?” Reece grumbled.
For the first time, Tor looked uncertain. “Well… that’s part of why we need you.”
“Why?” Reece demanded, already knowing he was going to hate the answer.
“The truth seeker’s name is Daena. We need you to work with her, protect her,” Tor admitted.
“Daena! Ramiel’s niece Daena, who the entire city is busy gossiping about being locked in the Constable’s Tower for treason… that Daena?” His beast growled, low and menacing—whether at Tor or him, he couldn’t tell.
Tor nodded. “Yes.”
