Chapter Twenty-One #2
“Highwaymen are most lethal in packs, like wolves,” Ravyn called to the Destriers.
“Separate them and they’re nothing more than rabid dogs that stalk the forest road.
” He closed his eyes, and this time, when Hauth moved with unearthly speed, he reached out and caught his cousin’s cloak, slamming the High Prince onto cold dirt.
Hauth rolled before Ravyn’s boot could collide with his shoulder. A moment later he was on his feet, a snarl on his lips.
“What did he look like?” Ravyn asked, thwarting a brutal jab. “The man who tore up your face.”
“Couldn’t tell, could I?” Hauth said, blocking Ravyn’s slap. “He wore a mask.”
“Anonymity,” Ravyn called to the Destriers, landing hits along Hauth’s ear. “Anonymity is the highwayman’s greatest advantage. Tear it away, and you’ve already killed him.”
“Or her,” Ione whispered, her voice so quiet I might have imagined it.
Hauth took a dagger from his belt. Ravyn narrowed his eyes and bent his knees, moving in rotation with the High Prince’s steps. He stepped on light feet, as if walking on glass, and when Hauth slashed his dagger, Ravyn dodged it.
They moved about the yard in a river of steps, dodges, and clashes.
“Stop playing around,” Elm heckled from the sideline. “We came to see a proper thrashing.”
Hauth spat blood and toppled over in a failed attempt to clip Ravyn’s legs. Next to me, neither Ione nor Elm bothered to hide their smiles as they watched the Captain of the Destriers make a spectacle of the High Prince.
When Hauth missed another jab, he swore, the veins in his neck bulging.
“You broke a wrist,” Ravyn said to his cousin. “You should at least be able to make me bleed.”
Hauth launched the dagger through the air, clipping Ravyn’s jerkin just shy of the collar. I flinched, searching Ravyn’s tunic for blood. But the Captain of the Destriers pivoted, his foot loud as it landed on Hauth’s ribs and sent the heir to the throne back into the dirt.
Then Ravyn stomped, full force, on the High Prince’s hand.
A sickening snap echoed through the yard, followed by Hauth’s brutal scream. I flinched and looked away. Elm leaned in with wide eyes. The Nightmare hissed with gratification.
Ione merely laughed.
It took three Destriers to peel Ravyn away from the High Prince. “Get off me,” Ravyn barked, pushing his way out of the yard, his smooth control cracked by anger. “Training concluded.”
I watched the Destriers escort the High Prince out of the yard. Hauth swore mercilessly, cradling his bloody hand as he and the Destriers disappeared into the castle under a plume of darkness.
“He’ll live,” Ione said, her voice flat. She turned her heel and sauntered out of the yard, her long yellow hair catching the fading light.
My heartbeat did not slow until the yard was quiet once more. Only Elm and I remained. “What just happened?”
The Prince shrugged, his green eyes lingering on Ione’s shape in the distance. “Hauth broke your wrist, Ravyn mangled his hand. Balance.”
I searched for Ione, but I heard the low rumbles of Hauth’s voice coming from her room and quickly steered myself in the opposite direction.
Her gaze along my arm in the yard had shaken me.
And though she had no way of knowing what had happened in the wood last night, wariness dogged me.
There was so much I did not understand about this new version of Ione.
And it frightened me, not trusting the person, nigh a fortnight ago, I had known best in the world.
Ravyn and Jespyr and Elm took dinner with the other Destriers. It was just me and Fenir and Morette seated at the long, crooked tree of a dinner table. When they decided to turn in early, I did not complain.
I walked the long corridor back to my room, humming one of the Nightmare’s tunes to myself. The Cards. The mist. The blood , he called in the dark. You’re getting closer. Can you smell the salt?
Footsteps sounded up ahead, followed by low voices. I would have gone into my room, anxious not to be caught eavesdropping, if I hadn’t heard one of the voices say my name.
Elm’s words were half whispered, half hissed. “We have no idea what happened in the wood,” he said. “Spindle—her abilities—”
“Are incredible. She saved your life. I think she’s earned a reprieve from your usual hostility, don’t you?”
“I’m not saying I’m not grateful to live another day at the edge of a sword, Ravyn. Only that we should be careful. Hauth looked like he’d been attacked by an animal, not a woman. There is too much we don’t know about her.” Elm paused a moment. “Your Nightmare Card could help with that.”
I felt myself go cold.
Ravyn’s voice was rough. “No. I’m not going to do that.”
“You don’t have a problem using it on the rest of us. Why not her?”
“The rest of you have consented. She hasn’t.”
“And you don’t think maybe that’s because she has something to hide?”
“She’s had things to hide most of her life.” Ravyn’s voice cut. “Can’t you see that?”
“Not as well as you, it seems.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Elm said. “But we can’t afford to make mistakes, not when we’re this close. Breaking Hauth’s hand—enjoyable as that was for me—was reckless.”
Ravyn was quiet a moment. “I know.”
“You shouldn’t let your guard down, Ravyn. Especially not for her.”
“Duly noted,” the Captain said, frost in the low notes of his voice. “Good night, cousin.”
Footsteps sounded. I fumbled at my latch, making far too much noise. I’d hardly stepped into my room and shut the door behind me when three sharp knocks rattled against the wood.
The Nightmare sighed. You do make it hard for yourself, my dear.
“Who is it?” I called, my voice pitching, too high and breathless.
“Ravyn.”
When I pulled the door open, the knot in my stomach constricted, the Captain of the Destriers startlingly handsome in a deep green tunic.
He leaned against the doorframe, his calloused fingers drumming a static rhythm on the old wood.
He regarded me, tilting his head like an inquisitive bird of prey.
“I thought you’d still be at dinner.”
“None of us were very hungry. I just got back.”
“Yes. I heard you.”
He didn’t ask if I’d been listening to his conversation. No doubt he already knew. He heaved a heavy breath. “I’m sorry about today,” he said. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy, seeing Hauth after last night.”
The Nightmare’s claws clicked across my mind.
“It wasn’t about you,” Ravyn said, “when I broke his hand. I mean, it was about you—but it’s more than that.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve a remarkably hostile relationship, my cousin and I.”
I snorted. “I’ve noticed.”
“Hauth hates the infection. More than most. And he hates that his father made me Captain.” Ravyn bit his lip, his posture stiffening. “He’s the one who told the King about my infection. Ten years later, he did the same when Emory caught the fever.”
I could almost feel the strain in his shoulders. I wanted to reach out and touch his hand—tell him I understood, better than perhaps anyone. But I didn’t.
“But that isn’t why I came to see you,” Ravyn said.
“No?”
“There’s something I meant to show you yesterday, only there wasn’t the time,” he said. “But if you’re tired, it can wait.”
I was tired. But something stirred in my stomach—something without a name that, if ignored, would gnaw at me all night. I leaned up against the opposite side of the doorframe, my brows perked. “What is it?”
The corner of Ravyn’s lips lifted. “You’ll see.”