Falcrest had come there to kill Flames with Ycken. Aiden could barely believe that either. Only, their blood had left red stains on the cave floor.
For all the months he’d known the captain, he’d never done anything without a good reason, killing included. He’d stabbed ashlings in the mess hall at the command of the Triad, only to save however many he could. If he wasn’t the one to guide the weapon piercing their bodies, their death was certain. This way, he bought them at least a chance.
He’d killed Criulian rebels, despite his Criu heritage, and the Guardians knew; the captain hated himself for it—but he did it to keep the facade of the ruthless warrior, loyal to the king. He did it, biding his time until Elina was free.
How he wished he were there to help free her. If there was anything he knew, it was that knowing a sibling suffered was worse than suffering himself. So he’d gladly risk his life to free the sister Falcrest had lost so early in life—like everything else.
Now that Aiden wasn’t more than a fleck of onyx in the shadows of the night, a whisper on the wind as far as the rest of the world was concerned, no longer alive, no longer owning a name, a home, or the right to anything other than to kill, he might be able to finally do something useful with his existence.
Running his fingers over his chin, cheeks, and jaw, Aiden made sure he hadn’t missed a patch of beard. Then he wiped his face with a wet cloth. He’d made his vow to bring Lory back to the leonthor, and he’d keep it. In no way had he made a commitment as to when that would happen, so he didn’t look back as he headed into the darkness to meet with the man to whom he owed everything.
He didn’t lose his footing on slippery stones on his path down the side of the mountain, and he didn’t let the rain-swollen streams crossing his path stop him. With a flick of his fingers, the water froze solid, and he continued his hike, ignoring the mud and the water seeping into his boots.
By the time day broke, he saw the landmark Falcrest had mentioned on the horizon. An inconspicuous formation of rocks, wide enough to hide a small cabin. High trees shielded most of the gray stones from prying eyes, but Aiden was prepared for that, too. Falcrest had given him other clues, like the shape of the mountain peaks if he approached from east,west, north, or south, the vegetation he was supposed to look for, the absence of caves and rebels.
This part of the mountains was fiercely Sen Dunai territory; no rebels had entered this piece of land, and Aiden wasn’t surprised they hadn’t, with the steep cliffs looming in the south and east, and the hidden vantage points the Brestolyan army had established along the west—and which Falcrest had told him how to avoid.
Aiden ducked past them, a ghost in the lush greenery that was soaking up the rain like lifeblood.
By sunrise, he was close enough to the rock formation to make out an overlap that indicated something more was hidden there.
His heart picked up pace, and his empty stomach stopped its rumbling; he hadn’t bothered bringing supplies, knowing what would wait for him at the end of this path.
Not far now… He’d rest and make it to the meeting point before tomorrow night ended.
Lifting his gaze to the cliffs blocking access to the Criulian border, Aiden climbed up the nearest tree and settled on a thick branch. He could sleep here for a few hours before he made the last leg of his journey. Before his name would forever be forgotten by the world.
Thirty-Eight
Khayrivven
The scentof wet earth and a breathing forest lingered in the air, a reminder of what lay beyond the cliffs in the south. Criulias, almost within reach, yet so far. One step too close, and Lenya would report his insubordination to the king. That would lead to more scars on Elina’s skin.
He hadn’t failed to notice her limp at the ceremony, hadn’t stopped thinking about it ever since he knew Lory was safe. Guardians, he’d nearly vomited at the thought something might have happened to Lory after she’d been locked with Nielyinside the building.
Khayrivven leaned forward in his chair and braced his elbows on his knees, resting his head in his palms. Too much had happened in the past days, and he’d lost control over it. When he’d intended to be there every step of the way for Lory as she carried out her first assassination, he’d allowed his primal instincts to interfere. He’dfuckedher, by Eroth, on the way to killing a man. And though he’d told himself it had been to distract her from what she was about to do, he’d lost control. When she’d claimed him, he’d claimed her. He’dmatedher, for fuck’s sake. And now there was no going back.
But the bliss on her features as she’d climaxed with him, sealing their bond, it had been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. More beautiful even than the look in her eyes when she’d realized whylovewasn’t a word he’d ever use when he spoke about his feelings for her.
And he’d messed up, letting her out of his sight to retrieve a useless blade, to cover tracks.Tracks, no matter how important they were to cover, meant nothing in comparison to Lory’s safety.
Khayrivven groaned at the twisted mess of his own emotions. His head knew very well that Lory could take care of herself. Hadrian and Anees had reported her progress on her magic training, and he’d practiced with her both Veiled and Steel. She was exceptional, so nimble and agile, her aim impeccable, her blows precise, her footwork almost as good as his own or Anees’s by now. But a primal part of him couldn’t stand the thought of her left to face danger of any sort on her own anyway.
At least the loneliness of this mission gave him time to process while Lory hopefully slept her exhaustion off in her room, guarded by Anees and Ngala, the thornling Lory called friend.
She hadfriends, he realized with a smile. People she cared about and who were there for her when he couldn’t be. Hadrian did so at his command. He wasn’t sure about Anees; the phantom liked Lory enough to perhaps consider her a friend. But Ngala, Grivor, and the Heener boy were there because they chose to be.
In an ideal world, Bellmont would have been there, too, but even if he showed up before the time was up, he wouldn’t get to spend time with Lory. He’d be made Ebon Fang and sent on missions so brutal, not even Khayrivven wanted to think about them. When no one else wanted to get their hands dirty, Ulder called in his Ebon Division to carry out tasks no one could ever know about by people no one knew were still alive.
IfBellmont showed up.
Part of Khayrivven hoped the man had died for good in the trials. At least that way, his soul would be spared from the dark deeds awaiting any Ebon soldier.
On the desk in the corner, the clock showed four in the morning. Not a sign of dawn filtered through the shadows of the rocks protecting this secret location.
Khayrivven had spent more nights here than he could think, waiting for ashmarked who were supposed to stage their death, not actually die. Only one out of ten made it. Another reason why the Ebon Division consisted of the bestof the best. You had to trick Eroth himself to make it. The Severance, this final test where an ashmarked had to fake their death and erase their previous identity to become a ghost to this world, was more than most could stomach. Even if they wanted to become part of the Ebon Division, hardly anyone had the stomach to become a nobody doing someone else’s cruel bidding. Not that the cruelty part was the issue, but the staying away from everyone and everything they loved.
If an Ebon soldier failed to follow the rules, it came upon Khayrivven to execute them. Yet another detail he didn’t want to think about when it came to his hopes of Aiden Bellmont’s appearance at the meeting point.
