“No. Not really. Not anything like this.”
Bláth tucked a loose curl behind her ear and took a breath. “Ethna met her once, the Witch. Maybe she knows something that could help you.”
"What did this witch do, exactly?" Quinn asked. "Fifteen years ago, I was . . . " he trailed off. "Not paying attention to Aenir."
"Supposedly.” Brighid spread her hands. "She performed black magic, invoked the old gods, and summoned the dead. In truth, I very much doubt she was anything more than a woman who rebelled against the system."
Shifting away from the shardwolf, I rose shakily to my feet. “Mare won’t take any of this well. I should go find her.”
“You.” Bláth crossed the room and shoved me down. “Are going to rest.”
She knocked me over effortlessly. I hit the mattress and felt its siren call: to lie down and remain motionless.
“I’ll find Mare,” she said, stepping away.
Brighid followed her to the door. She paused, hand on the frame. “Don’t kill him, Quinn.”
The Solheart threw up his hands. When the door slammed behind the ladies, he tucked his hands in his pockets and sauntered to my side.
His cat-like eyes appraised me. “From what I’ve heard, you’d do well in our line of work.”
“No thanks." I leaned against the headboard. “I prefer pickpocketing—not grand heists and assassinations."
“I started off as a pickpocket.” Quinn patted the mattress, and his shardwolf leaped up.
I shimmied away from the beast, keeping to my corner as it curled up on the opposite end. White fur covered its paws, contrasting its black coat—the source of its name.
Quinn pressed a hand to the bedpost. “You know what has to be done, right?”
A threatening edge entered his voice. I instinctively reached for my dagger.
“You and your sister have learned our secrets,” he said. “You’re a risk to everything we’ve worked for.”
“Do I look like I’m a loyal little Forlaith soldier?” I stared at him, remembering the conversation I’d overheard in Tsuyan. “You were friends with our Paragon, right? So you know him pretty well.”
“Reese? Better than anyone, I’d guess.”
“He doesn't seem bad. And he obviously cares about Mare. If he?—”
“Don’t,” Quinn snapped. “I know what he seems like, but he’s . . ."
"Clearly not fond of Forlaith or its laws." I leaned forward. "So why?—”
"Because he's complicated." Quinn's eyes narrowed, his mouth tugged into a frown he tried to repress. "Because he's suffered more than anyone should, and it changed him. I tried to bring him to our side once. Alistair tried. Reese made one thing very clear: should we turn against the Empire, he would name us enemies upon our next meeting."
I bit my lip, holding back my retort.
I'd suffered, and it hadn't turned me into the Empire's dog.
"If you aren't one of us, we won’t let you leave here alive, but Reese?” Quinn paused, eyes far away, as though remembering something. “Reese will make sure you suffer before the end.”
Chapter 50
Mare
How did I carry on when I’d seen how evil this world truly was?
Pulling my knees up, I tucked myself against the willow. My hands trembled.
