He turned away from the window and surveyed his bedroom again. It had been a year since he’d last set foot in here.
What a difference a year could make.
He glanced down at the bottle of rum cradled in his palm. The label was tearing in a corner, setting a course to slash right on through the elegant script naming the liquor. A shame. He had hoped to return it to Kohen unmarred.
He stared at the label, at the name in the center, then beyond the bottle altogether, to the wooden posts framing the canopy bed. A year had left the room quite dusty, dust coating even the vertical bedposts. Bottle still clutched in his left hand, he ran the fingers of his right downthe grain of the nearest bedpost, collecting dust beneath his fingerprints. His middle finger snagged on a spot in the wood, and he pulled his hand back. A splinter, dark and thin, poked from the pad of his middle finger. Blood oozed from where it had stuck him, but he did not move to clean it, didn’t try to pluck the splinter from his finger.
It was the same spot—the exact same spot as the last splinter he’d gotten—and suddenly, he remembered.
He’d made it to the top. All the way up to the rafters of the ballroom and the window where he and his team could escape the Tordaza palace. Malia had been close behind him, her grip on the rope firm as she moved. Toran had snagged his finger on the wood of the rafters then, a large splinter jutting from the skin of his middle finger. And then beyond his splintered finger, beyond the rafters, that had been when he’d spotted her on the ground below him.
Her dark brows were arched with challenge above eyes as green as a budding wheat field. Eyes that bored into him beneath her hood. He stumbled back from the bedpost.
He knew those eyes.
The liquor bottle fell from his hands. Hit stone but didn’t break.
Perhaps he was the one breaking now.
No.He would never forget the features of the archer who’d shot down his friends. He knew those dark brows.
And he’d seen them recently. Had seen them furrow with determination and twist with fear in the low light of the city tunnels. Saw the green eyes of that Aeosch archer reflected back at him as Nes struggled on the floor of the cavern.
Grabbing the rum by the neck of the bottle, he raced from the room and ran smack into Genna. “What are you doing here?”
“Where are you going?” she countered.
“The dungeon.”
Genna shook her head. “You need to get out of here.”
But he wasn’t listening. He saw the Aeosch archer nock an arrow over and over and over again. Saw her raise those brows at him in challenge.
“She was there,” he breathed to Genna. Aside from Quint—who was still recovering—Genna was the only person he trusted now. “In Aeos. I knew she seemed familiar when I saw her at the Siren’s Hair, but I didn’t realize until now—”
“Toran, are you listening to me?”
“Genna, I am, but I figured it out. I knew she was familiar.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “It was Suri. My mission to Aeos—she was in the group that attacked my legion. She killed them. She’s an Aeosch spy!”
Genna pushed his arms down. “It doesn’t matter.”
There was a finality to her tone, and his excitement hitched. “What do you mean?”
Genna looked for all the world like she’d rather be anywhere but in front of him, relaying bad news. “Suri’s gone. She escaped her cell.”
Gone.That one word awakened a beast inside him, tearing through his excitement and sinking claws into his hope.
Toran yanked the cork from the bottle of rum and slung back two shots’ worth. The liquor burned his throat as if he’d gotten too close to a hearth, but he pressed on. The burn was a reminder. And it only fueled him.
He’d had his legion’s murderer. She’d been right there, under his nose the whole time. Now she was gone.
He took another swig from the bottle. He would track her down. Track her down and kill her himself. He’d caught the Witch. Surely a single spy couldn’t be that much more difficult.
The next time he saw Suri, it’d be his arrow in her back.
“But that isn’t important right now,” Genna said, grabbing his wrist and yanking him out of his thoughts of revenge. “We have to hide you.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and frowned down at her. “Hide? Why?”
