“Guards. They’re coming to arrest you.” Genna bit her lip. “Someone left Captain Fell’s body at the castle gate. I don’t care if it’s true, but they say you’re the one who killed him.”
No sooner had she spoken the words, a dozen guards turned the corner, heading straight for them. For him.
Toran stepped forward. He wouldn’t run and hide from this.
“What seems to be the problem?”
None of the guards answered him. Several filed past until the group had formed a secure circle around him, cutting Genna out. He waited, gaze bouncing off the nearest guards. Some he knew, others he didn’t. From between two guards, a new figure emerged. Toran straightened in an instant.
The man was bald with a light brushing of hair across his jawline and straight brows blanketing his hard cerulean eyes. He was nearly as tall as Quint, though not as muscular. If the man were a tree, he’d be a tall, slim pine—standing firm and harsh against winter’s onslaught.
In stiff movements, the man stepped forward and pulled the bottle of rum from Toran’s clenched hand. He lifted it to eye level, measuring the liquid left inside. As he lowered it, his eyes shifted to Toran.
“Drinking again?” he asked. “The King will be so disappointed in you. I warned him against giving you a second chance.”
Toran tried not to fidget, tried not to look anywhere but at the man before him. “Extenuating circumstances,” he said. “Celebratory times. Wouldn’t you agree, Sir Kendrik?”
If Toran had a mirror that allowed him to peer into the future, he would see Kendrik. Sir Kendrik was King Harkett’s advisor and, once upon a time, when the King had been but a young prince, his Crown. Kendrik was what Toran would become if he lost to Kohen in the Crown Duel.
Kendrik neither nodded nor shook his head. He only continued to stare at Toran.
“Tell me,” Kendrik said and plucked something from the pocket of his pristine jacket. “Do you recognize this?”
Toran sucked in a breath. Between his fingers, Kendrik held Loriana’s engagement ring.
Kendrik’s face didn’t change, didn’t hint at a single emotion as hesaid, “Yes, I thought you would. I knew it was familiar the moment a guard pulled it from the neck of Captain Fell’s corpse.”
Toran kept his lips shut tight. Whatever he might say would only damn him further.
Kendrik stepped closer. “There was a note pinned to the body. The first half suggested we search your things for a certain knife belonging to Captain Fell. A good suggestion, it turned out, as not only did we find such a knife, but the shape of the blade and the wound on Captain Fell’s back were also a match. We didn’t need the ring, too. But I wanted the confirmation. I do appreciate your cooperation,Crown.”
Toran swallowed. “Do you know who left the body?”
“I don’t,” Kendrik said. “But that isn’t my concern. Whoever it was took great pains to make sure we knew you were the one who killed Captain Fell. It seems you’ve made quite the enemy, Toran.”
Dread washed over him like a curling wave, a hidden current beneath the water dragging him under. His heartbeat was in his ears and his breaths came too fast. No one was supposed to know.
“Arrest him.”
At Kendrik’s command, the circle of guards tightened, and Toran’s hands were bound behind his back. Kendrik turned away.
“Wait!”
The King’s advisor paused, craned his neck to look over his shoulder.
Toran pushed forward. “What did the rest of the note say?”
Kendrik turned fully then. And this time, mild interest sparked in his eyes. “The rest?”
“You said the first half told you about the knife. What did the second half say?”
Kendrik studied him. It was all Toran could do to breathe before Kendrik answered.
“It said, ‘I’m taking you with me.’ ”
After
Night was a waterfall. To look up at the sky was to stand under the dark downpour, to feel the stars fall upon your hair.
