But she’d sent him to the hospital to, hopefully, save lives and secure witnesses. Unless Eklor was one step ahead of them there as well. “We’ll have to persuade the guards to help—”
In a small voice, Marso said, “I think I can do it.”
Both Kreya and Stran looked at him.
“It’s a single question: where are the stolen bones? I can ask that. I can’t read in battle conditions anymore, but if I have quiet and one straightforward question to focus on...”
Kreya hesitated for only half a heartbeat. She trusted Marso to know what he was ready for. Gesturing to the closet, she welcomed him in. “We’ll guard you.”
“Don’t watch,” he requested. “I have to concentrate.”
Both Stran and Kreya stood in front of the broken door, backs to the interior, their arms crossed. The palace was eerily quiet. Everyone had taken their advice and either fled or hidden. Kreya tried to keep her thoughts from chasing in circles.
If Eklor had anticipated they’d come for the bones, he had to have anticipated they’d find out about the hospital. What if Jentt and Zera were walking into a trap? What if the doctors were already dead? What if Eklor had a backup source for his blood already lined up?
And: what if she’d guessed wrong? All their evidence was thin at best—Grand Master Lorn wasn’t wrong about that. She’d hoped, though, that they’d investigate Eklor and, with the might and intelligence of the entire guild, uncover what he planned in time to stop him.
Now it’s up to us,Kreya thought.
Behind her, Marso gasped.
Leaving his post by the door, Stran knelt beside him. He put his hand on Marso’s back. “Deep breaths. Breathe. That’s it. Even breaths.”
“What did you see?” Kreya asked.
“All their lives, all their deaths,” Marso gasped. He doubled over, his forehead touching the floor. His chicken bones scattered as he caught himself on his hands. Stran helped him sit. He rubbed his back until Marso was breathing evenly instead of in short gulps of air.
“Did you see the bones?” Kreya asked.
He looked up at her. “Yes.”
He led the way. Stran supported him every time he wobbled, but he headed unerringly down the hallway to a stairway. Again, they faced palace guards. This time, though, Marso looked so haunted that they didn’t hesitate to withdraw when he told them there was danger within.
In a burst of inspiration, Kreya told the guards, “Come with us. Be ready for anything.”
One guard unlocked a door and threw it open.
Inside, a young boy jumped to his feet. He dropped the book he’d been reading. Kreya stared at him, and he stared back.
“You’re the dead boy?” Kreya guessed. “Grand Master Lorn’s son?” She remembered Zera had told her his name. “Yarri?”
“Don’t hurt me!” he squeaked.
“Don’t be afraid,” Kreya said. “All we want are the bones.”
His eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Marso, where are they?” She didn’t take her eyes off the boy. Damn Eklor for involving a kid in all this. And damn Grand Master Lorn, for putting his own heart above the good of the world.He knows,she thought. The persuasion talisman could only excuse so much. On some level, Lorn had to understand what he was doing.He knows the cost of it all. But he doesn’t care because his son lives.
She asked herself what she’d do if it were Jentt, and then she ruthlessly banished that thought. She’d crossed lines, yes, but there were limits. There had to be.
With a shaking arm, Marso pointed at the bed.
Kreya drew her knife and stalked toward it. Falling back, the boy screamed, but she ignored him. She stabbed the mattress and dragged the blade back, slitting it open. Beside her, Stran yanked at the quilted top until it was open.
Inside lay the bones.
Chapter Twenty-Five
