Chapter Twenty-One
There were bodies everywhere.
It made no sense. None of it made sense.
It had taken only a minute for Finnvid to free himself from his brother’s hold, but by the time he ran back to the door of the entry hall, it all seemed to be over.
The Elkati soldiers who’d been traveling with him had retreated into the antechamber, staring at the carnage.
And the Torian soldiers, the non-Sacrati .
. . they were still upright, over by the main doors.
Zenain was standing in front of them, his arms wide as if shepherding them away from the massacre.
Finnvid tried to understand the scene in front of him.
It was the Sacrati who’d been attacked. Just the Sacrati.
They’d clearly counterattacked, somehow; there were Elkati bodies mixed in among the dead.
But— The Sacrati— Finnvid stumbled forward, his brother’s arm catching him again, holding him away from the bodies. From Theos.
Finnvid drove his elbow into his brother’s ribs, twisted free, and launched himself toward the chaos.
There was so much blood, and so many bodies.
Some of the archers had fallen down from the gallery and they’d landed on top of other men.
There were moans and cries from the survivors, and maybe one of them was Theos . . .
More hands caught at him now. Strong, trained hands, yanking at him, pinning him against the wall. If he’d had a knife, he would have plunged it unthinkingly into those restraining him. But he wasn’t armed; he was helpless.
Still he struggled. And then she was there. Lifting her skirts as she stepped daintily through the carnage, her gaze never leaving his face to acknowledge the disaster surrounding her. “My son,” she said. “You’ve returned safely. We must celebrate.”
He stared at her, then twisted so he could see his brother. “What have you done?” he screamed. “Why?”
“We’ll talk,” his mother said calmly. “But you’re exhausted. You need to rest now, and clean up.” She turned to the guards holding him. “Take him to his rooms. There are servants waiting for him there.”
He fought. He screamed and swore and kicked.
But the men holding him were well armored, and strong, and there were too many of them.
They dragged him to the rooms that had been his home since he left the nursery, and pushed him through the doorway.
Servants were there, waiting for him, but he swore at them too, and struggled with the guards as they tried to pull him toward the bathing room.
It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t have happened.
He needed to go back downstairs and— He didn’t know what he needed. He needed to make it not be true.
“Release him,” his mother said.
Finnvid hadn’t seen her follow them up the stairs, but the guards didn’t seem surprised by her sudden presence, and let go of Finnvid so quickly that he stumbled to his knees.
He didn’t bother to stand, just stared up at her and whispered, “Why? They came as allies.”
She turned to the servants. “Leave us. Guards, wait outside, please.”
As they all began to move, she stepped forward and then crouched to take Finnvid’s hand. “Come,” she said, and she guided him to his feet. But as she tried to lead him to the low padded bench by the window, he jerked his hand away.
“They may still be alive.” He headed for the door. “I need to go to them! We can help them—”
“Listen to yourself,” she said firmly. “You’re talking about the Torians. Worrying about them. Did you notice how many of our own men those animals killed? Do you even care about the Elkati lives that were lost today?”
“I care.” At some level, he was sure he did. “But they attacked the Sacrati! The Torians came in peace.”
“Torians came in peace?” She sounded scornful, but her tone gentled as she added, “We know what they did to you. How they treated you. It’s quite common for prisoners to get confused, and form bonds with their captors.
Quite common for slaves to die in defense of the ones who took away their freedom. It will pass, Finnvid.”
“My captors? They escorted me home! What kind of captors would deliver their prisoner to his family?”
“So you willingly traveled to Windthorn and stayed with the Torians all through the fall?”
“No, of course not. Initially, I was a prisoner. But the Sacrati thought I was trespassing on their land! They didn’t know I’d been invited to a meeting with the Torian warlord.
And he didn’t tell them! He was the one who left me imprisoned.
” Finnvid’s shocked brain finally began to understand what had happened.
“And he’s the one who sent the message to you.
When we arrived in the valley, and the couriers were sent with messages .
. . he sent his version of the story to you, and you read it and you believed it. ”
Finnvid shook his head vigorously and started for the door.
“They may not be dead. Maybe not all of them.” Arrows were lethal, especially at close range, but Sacrati were tough.
Theos was invincible, surely, and the others almost as strong.
The Sacrati, everyone who’d stood by him and befriended him, they couldn’t all be dead. He wouldn’t let that be true.
“We received the message, and we acted accordingly,” his mother said. “What’s done is done. You must understand: the Sacrati attacked us and we responded in self-defense. It’s tragic, but it’s over. We can’t afford to have Sacrati returning to Windthorn and saying anything different.”
“That’s the story the other Torians will tell?” He spun toward her. “No. Maybe at first, but they’ll tell the truth eventually.”
“They didn’t see what happened. They were still in the vestibule. They didn’t see one of the Sacrati lunge at a guard, yet they’ll believe it happened. Everyone knows Sacrati are aggressive, and our guards had no reason to attack other than self-defense.”
Her tone was so level, so confident, that for a moment Finnvid doubted himself.
Then he wondered how many other lies she’d told him in the same tone, lies he hadn’t caught.
“I won’t believe it.” He wouldn’t sacrifice the only power he had left.
“By the sword,” he said, the Torian oath sounding strange in the Elkati, “I will know what happened.”
This was right. He could feel it deep in his gut.
“I will know. Maybe I can believe that it was a mistake, as long as you do the right thing now. The Sacrati need to be tended to. If any of them are still alive, they need healing. I will do it myself.” He turned and started for the door again.
What if someone had survived the attack, but had been killed as the bodies were sorted through, while Finnvid wasted time talking to his mother?
“No, Finnvid,” she snapped. “We’ll take care of them.
You need to stay here. You need to get clean, and dress yourself as befits a prince.
” He could hear her following him. “If they twisted your mind, and made you someone you aren’t, then they deserve to die.
So if you want any survivors to live, you need to show me that you’re the same loyal, obedient son you’ve always been. ”
Finnvid stood frozen.
“As soon as you agree to let the servants come in and bathe you, I will go downstairs and see what’s to be done for any surviving Sacrati.
If any have survived, they’ll be cared for.
” Her voice was deceptively gentle. “But I’m a mother, and when my ability to protect is thwarted, I resort to my ability to take revenge.
If I find that I wasn’t able to protect you from their manipulations .
. . I will take revenge on anyone within my reach. ”
It was chilling.
How would Theos respond to such a situation?
But Finnvid couldn’t smash something and then fuck whoever was handy.
What about Andros? He’d smile and laugh and assume the other person was joking, because surely no one could ever be so cold-blooded.
Yet Finnvid knew better than imaginary Andros.
So he answered as himself—the older, wiser him that he’d become over the past months.
“I understand,” he said. “And I hope there are Sacrati alive, for your sake as well as theirs. Because if they survive and are cared for, you’ll have a useful tool for controlling me.
Without them? I’m honestly not sure how you’ll make me do what you want. ”
They stared at each other for a moment until Finnvid said, “Call the servants, please. I’d like to bathe.”
She gave him another look, then turned and headed for the door.
He was gratified to see her moving briskly, but it wasn’t enough to take away the shock and the fear.
The servants came in and led him into the bathing room and added a few buckets of steaming water to the tub before encouraging him to undress and climb in.
One part of him was aware of their clucking and fussing over every scratch from his adventures, but mostly he was elsewhere.
In the warm bathhouse of Windthorn, on Theos’s hard floor with the Sacrati sleeping almost beside him.
At the training grounds, on the cold trail, in the stormy forest with Theos above him, in that moment of tenderness before it all went to hell.
And then in the hall below. Finnvid had laughed—laughed—when he’d seen the Sacrati’s alarm. He’d given them foolish words of comfort. Had they listened to him? Had they believed him? Had Theos’s last thought been that Finnvid had betrayed him again, lied to him again?
He pushed himself out of the tub, drawing a cry from the man who’d been trying to shave him. “I’ll do it myself,” Finnvid growled. He couldn’t sit there any longer, being pampered while people he cared about were—what? Dead?
Yes, at least some of the Sacrati were dead.
He’d seen too much of the carnage to believe otherwise.
It seemed impossible that Theos could be among them; he was too vibrant, too alive.
But which of the Sacrati should be vulnerable to something as puny as an arrow?
What had happened in the hallway hadn’t been in accordance with any rules Finnvid understood.
He needed to know. And he needed to avoid making things worse. “Give me the razor,” he ordered. He’d shave, and he’d dress, and he’d play whatever games his mother wanted. But he wouldn’t stay in his rooms, ignoring the larger world. He couldn’t hide. Not from this.