Sesto’s attention traveled to Jesstin’s hand, the thumb positioned to flip his clasp. A tight, stern head shake made Jesstin’s thumb ease back an inch. It took a more pronounced one to compel him to abandon whatever fate he’d planned for Considine.
Jesstin’s silent surrender said, For now.
Sesto’s call for reticence wasn’t for Taven at all. Taven was many disgraceful things, but he hadn’t murdered Elloven. He had traveled to Rivenholde in bad faith, keeping close a number of secrets that might have, if shared, prevented this terrible night from ever happening. But until they’d mined every last one of them, he was still useful.
As soon as he wasn’t, Sesto would cheerfully help dispose of the man.
Sesto had never kept Rhiain safe by pushing her down a path she wasn’t ready for. He’d protected her by following her down whatever path she’d chosen.
“Would you like an escort?” Estelar asked as the four moved toward the door.
“When you couldn’t even keep your niece alive?” Jesstin walked out.
“We’ll manage ourselves, thank you, Pretor,” Sesto said sweetly, dropping his smile when he reached the hall and saw Daire’s face. “What is it?”
“Ryquin needs to speak with Jesstin urgently.” He whispered just loud enough for Sesto to hear, but Taven and Jesstin were already ahead, walking paces apart.
“Oh? Will he astrally detach from his imprisoned body and float down to the croft?”
Daire shook his head. “Lexsea. Lexsea will come, and he can speak through her. She’s handling something important, she said, and then she’ll come to us.”
Could he? Interesting.
But unwise to indulge.
“If she so much as bats a single eyelash at Jesstin?—”
“She won’t, Sesto. She won’t, but... You must listen to her. Jesstin must listen. She can help. She knows...” Daire shut down. He seemed to remember where he was. “We shouldn’t speak here. It’s not safe.”
Lexsea came sauntering into the croft like someone who’d gotten away with the same crime her brother was presently incarcerated for.
For now. The length of her continued existence was proportionate to the helpfulness she could offer. Jesstin would deliver her head to her father either way.
“Can’t you turn back time?” Sesto asked Taven in a harsh whisper, right as Lexsea entered and swept her bland scrutiny across the small cabin. “Aren’t you a time wizard or something?”
“No, that’s not how it works,” Taven said from the side of his mouth. He seemed just as suspicious of Lexsea as the rest of them and hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “Ashwind prominents bend time to see through it... can shape it into stories, but we can’t change what’s been written.”
“Do you ever stop and listen to yourself?” Jesstin snapped.
“I’m only being kind to you, Skylark, because of all you did...” His face pinched as he seemed to realize Jesstin was still covered in blood. “To protect her.”
“And you’re only alive because I need to conserve my energy.”
“For what? Pretending to fend off the advances of the siren?”
“Consent must be such a bizarre concept for you.”
Jesstin’s verbal sparring was instinctual only. Numbness had taken over in the hours between the skirmish and the aftermath. Sitting in the pretor’s office, he’d played out the fantasy of going for his sword, of taking one, two, three... as many as he could before they struck him down. The pain of the blades, the promise of them, was delicious. To be sliced alive. To share one final trauma with Elloven. Problem was, he didn’t think he’d feel a damn thing.
“Father could have found you more pleasing accommodations,” Lexsea said, tsking everything she ran her fingers over: the chairs, the hearth, the dusty banister leading into the loft.
“We have all we need.” Sesto’s friendliness was about as sincere as those magic dealers in the enchanted market. “Now, Daire says you want to help us?”
“She wants to help herself,” Taven said. Tears trickled down his cheeks. The sniveling, self-serving barn rat hadn’t stopped crying for hours. Jesstin was too exhausted to even be bothered.
“I know why you’re here. I know what you did.” Jesstin waited for her to note the hand on his sword. The sincerity of malice in his eyes. “I know what your brother wants. I know he had Elloven killed because he thinks it’s how he convinces me to do this thing he wants. So I’m going to give you either two minutes or the end of my patience, whichever comes sooner, and then I’m going to kill you.”
Lexsea’s eyes dilated in stunned offense. “Have not enough people died this evening?”
