“Makai knows better than to do something so stupid. I know who his mother is and where he and his baby sister live,” Dashiell said, glaring pointedly at the boy. “And I don’t need Luka flying to the rescue just yet.”
Makai whimpered, but Dashiell had turned to focus on Izzy. “Pass me your dagger. Hold it between your finger and thumb only.”
God of Chaos. She had no choice. She drew the dagger out of her belt and handed it over.
Dashiell tested the blade with his thumb and sneered, clearly not finding it to his liking. He dumped it behind an old wagon full of rubble. Then he stripped off his green city guard cloak, leaving him in a nondescript leather jerkin, and threw it to the boy. “Take this and look after it for me. And make yourself scarce.”
Makai dipped a shaky bow. He mumbled an apology, eyes bright with unshed tears, and then turned, clutching the cloak, and ran.
“Luka will know,” Izzy said as her beast thrashed in her belly and blood slid down her back beneath her chemise. “He’ll read my note and come for you.”
Dashiell grinned, his dimples flashing, and somehow, for the first time, he seemed genuinely amused. “You mean this note?” He passed her the folded parchment. She didn’t have to look at it to know it was hers. “Right now the kitchen is probably wondering why in the Abyss you sent them a city guard equipment list.”
Mother of the gods. Should she try to run? The cobbles were smooth and slick, and Dashiell was clearly fit and strong. But she couldn’t stay with him.
He leaned down and whispered roughly in her ear. “If you try it, you’ll die slowly, and Luka willneverfind your body.”
She stilled, fighting to breathe through her fear. While she was alive, she had hope, and she had no doubt that if she ran, Dashiell would kill her as he promised.
Dashiell tugged at her cloak with his free hand. “Cover your hair, Mistress Izabel, and come along. We have things to prepare.”
Chapter
Thirty-One
Luka satat a rough table opposite Healer Sarwin and strived for calm. Two of his most senior—and trusted—lieutenants stood a few paces back, along the wall, watching with grim expressions.
Sarwin’s gaze flicked to them and back, full of fear. His pupils were ringed with teal, and his scales gleamed and flickered at his throat, catching the lamplight.
They were in a rough interview room deep beneath the barracks, in the cells carved into the mountain long ago. The prison was hot, damp, and soaked with the despair and rage of past inhabitants. Decades-old stains mottled the stones, dark mold crept over the walls, and the air was stagnant and bitter. He hadn’t been down there since the death of the king… and he didn’t want to be there now.
I hate it down here,his beast rumbled.
Luka hated it too, but nothing he’d said, no question he’d asked, had garnered anything useful. They couldn’t leave until it did. “Why did you kill Lady Narya?” he asked again.
Sarwin folded his arms protectively across his torso. “I told you, I didn’t even speak to Lady Narya on the night of the banquet.”
“You were seen with her in the garden the night before,” Luka argued, “and we know she was due to meet a physik on the night she died.”
“I didn’t?—”
Luka slammed a hand down on the stained wood, and Sarwin jumped. “Don’t lie to me!”
Sarwin dragged his hand roughly through his hair. “I’m not lying. I didn’t kill her. Iwouldn’tkill her! Why would I do that?”
Luka rocked back in his chair. “You tell me.”
They stared at each other for long moments. Only the distant drip of water down stone broke the silence.
“Okay, tell me about your Uncle Benja.” Luka changed direction.
For the first time, a glimmer of rage entered Sarwin’s eyes. “Why don’t you tell me? Rayan wasyourbest friend. He stole Benja’s shop, and then he gave it toyourlover.”
A sharp ache pierced Luka’s fingers where his beast stretched out their claws. He let his chair fall forward with a loud clunk. “Is that why you killed him?”
“I didn’t kill him! I hated him, but I didn’t?—”
A commotion from down the corridor drowned out Sarwin’s denial, and Luka turned to see Physik General Melo storming down the row of cells, arguing ferociously with a prison guard. Aiden strode behind her, his jaw clenched.
