12. Diar
Diar
I'd set out to kill a Solheart and ended up as one's captive instead.
Father would probably tell me I was lucky—standing in the presence of a Solheart was a rare privilege. Admittedly, I was starting to understand why so many people thought so.
The man who'd swept in to drag me home radiated light and heat, as though his very essence opposed the eternal night. His platinum blonde hair was twisted into a messy half-bun, its loose locks framing bronzed skin. Occasionally, he'd glance over at me, yellow eyes narrowing like a cat's.
I had caught mere glimpses of the Solhearts who'd come with their Emperor to Tsuyan five years ago. Mother had locked me in my room.
I would've died there, suffocated by the fire—if Akemi hadn't remembered.
Shifting, I leaned against a tree and twisted my wrists. The golden cords binding my hands refused to loosen, no matter how I writhed.
"I told you not to bother." The Solheart tossed a twig into the fire. "I tie an expert knot."
I glared at him across the campfire. He flicked up his black collar, as if to ward off my stare.
My captor had been kind enough, I supposed. He'd wrapped the wound on my wrist and never let his luminous threads brush it.
His partner had created the wound when he'd lobbed a radiant blade at the Aenir king, and in my books, that undid any grace my captor might have earned.
"Why is a Solheart charged with taking me home?" I asked.
"He's not," the Solheart corrected. "But I figured your father would appreciate it. A bit of good news to lessen the blow of the bad."
"Good news?" I echoed.
Father was going to murder me. In no world was my coming home in chains good news.
"I hear you had an interesting night." The Solheart stood and brushed dead leaves from his cloak. "You met the young prince, did you not?"
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"Quinn," he answered. "And no—it isn't short for anything. I don't know why everyone asks that."
Pulling up my knees, I rested my bound hands atop them. Solhearts were to be treated with respect: bowed heads and honeyed words. Should you speak to one as your equal, they would take great offense and punish you accordingly.
They had the right. Solathair, the departed god of the sun, had blessed them with his very blood.
But this man did not care that I looked him in the eye and spoke my mind. He'd even made the occasional attempt at a joke.
"So?" Quinn prodded. "What did you think? It's not every day one meets royalty."
What did I think? I blinked slowly, recalling my eventful night. Part of me still believed that Ferris had been working with the assassins. The other wondered why he'd been at a seedy tavern during Winter's Tide, drinking himself into a daze and starting brawls.
Ignoring the question, I stood and approached my captor. "Who's your friend? The one who tried to kill King Ailithir?"
"Friend? I'm here alone."
"Was he there five years ago?" I continued. "Were you?"
Quinn studied me intently, feline eyes narrowing. The fire threw shadows across his face. "You're talking about the Emperor's death? Tsuyan was lucky we didn't raze it to the ground for allowing Emperor Andreas to die on their watch."
"Your people were responsible."
A strange expression crossed the man's face. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "No one's made such an accusation before."
"Because I'm the only one who noticed."
"Shame you're a woman, then. They won't listen to you."
"Will you listen, then?" I stepped closer. "Let me go, and I'll find your Emperor's murderer for you."
The smile tugging at Quinn's lips broke into a full grin. "Bold. For a lesser Iceborn to speak to a Solheart that way—for a woman to dare challenge a man."
My lips curled into a snarl, which only seemed to intensify his amusement.
"No, you'll be coming home with me," Quinn said, turning his back. He cast a glance over his shoulder. "To Tsuyan."
I twisted against my bonds again, to no avail. "What are you even doing here?"
"Delivering a message." He leaned against a tree and folded his arms. "I saw that storm over Kentoro. Aenir's Paragon is dead. Cierthine was calling to its new master."
"Shouldn't you help them, then? Deliver a message to the queen?"
"No." He studied his fingernails. "Darkness like that doesn't stop at a border fort. It'll spread. To your home, more than likely. Someone ought to warn them. Someone they'll listen to." He met my eye. "Because I doubt they heeded Aenir's messenger."
"They didn't," I confirmed.
"At least the scrutiny will be off you."
"Ha!" I stared into the flames. "War isn't enough to distract my Father from punishing me."
"Maybe not war." Quinn's smile vanished. "I didn't come here to deliver a message about Galasvar—I only just learned of it. Compared to my message? Your return will seem like good news to your father."
I raised my head. "What's your message?"
"A massacred city. A dead Paragon lying at its center. All traces of their killers, gone." Quinn leaned off the tree and returned to my side, looking down into my eyes. "Killian wasn't the first to meet such a fate."
It struck me like a brick, what he was about to say.
"Your Paragon is dead too, Diar," Quinn said quietly. "One hundred years of service—found dead in a remote village filled with blood and viscera."
Paragon Ishii was dead? I staggered back, stunned. The old Paragon had visited us countless times—he'd trained my father, years and years ago. Akemi had looked up to him, eyes glittering like a child's whenever the Paragon came around.
"So, yes, Diar. I think your father won't give your little adventure much thought.
" Quinn pulled a pipe from his cloak pocket and fitted it into his mouth.
A flash of light touched his fingertips, and smoke trailed into the air.
"Hell itself has come to the Empire, and it's going to knock at your doors next. "