57. Reese
Reese
Islammed my half-brother against the tree, sword to his throat.
"What are you playing at?" I hissed.
"Nothing.” Raild twisted his neck away from the blade. "I'm looking out for my dear brother—just like when I warned you away from that whore."
I'd lost count of how many times Raild had called Bláth a whore. It wasn't an insult you could refute—she'd worked at a brothel for years.
And she'd always told me not to deny it. Bláth didn't think of her past as an insult. She wore the memories like a badge of pride—she'd fought tooth and nail to survive in this world, even when she had nothing and no one.
It was the kind of thing Raild would never understand, not when he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
"If you do anything to hurt Mare," I warned. "They'll find your mangled corpse in a dirt crawler's back alley."
"Oh, poetic. So you can be creative with your kills." Raild smiled. "And here I thought you were a mindless butcher."
My right hand trembled, desperate to slit his throat. Golden veins snaked up from the prosthetic, and voices whispered at the back of my mind.
Silence him.
"What are you doing?" Father's voice cut through the garden.
Yanking my sword from Raild's throat, I stepped back. Lord Tiernan blustered toward us, fury burning on his face.
"Father.” Raild dusted himself off. "This mad—”
"Silence," Lord Tiernan hissed. "You've brought this on yourself."
Raild fell silent, but he shot me a withering glare.
"And you.” Lord Tiernan pointed at me. "Ten years, and you still cannot behave in front of the Lecovair."
I shoved my sword into its sheath. "Maybe I'd have learned better if you hadn't thrown my mother onto the streets. So don't chide me," I snapped, turning away.
"I have news," Tiernan called after me. "News I would have shared, had you two kept your petty grievances in line."
Whatever his news, I didn't care. Brushing aside a low-hanging branch, I followed the path Mare had taken.
"The Archbishop and High Magister have come to a decision," Father called.
Hearing those names, I stopped.
"They have found a worthy successor to our late Emperor—a man for the queen to marry." He paused. "You."
"What?" Raild snapped.
Staggering back, I searched his face, hoping he was joking.
Why in Solathair's name would they choose me?
"Hear me, Reese," Lord Tiernan said in a low tone. "Don't you dare go after that girl. I will not let you tarnish our family name when the seat of the Emperor awaits."
"I don't give a damn about your family name."
"But you care about her, don't you?" He took a step closer. "Stay here—stay away from her. In return, I promise to support you. She'll be crowned Paragon, and I will forbid any from harming or disparaging her."
His offer would protect Mare—but could he be trusted?
"Chase after her," Lord Tiernan said. "And I can't promise she'll leave this fort alive."
"Are you threatening her?" I asked, hand flying to my blade.
"No. I hear what my fellow Lecovair say. And they are not happy about two women usurping their roles. They intend to remind them of their place."
Rape, murder, dragging them naked through the streets . . . I could think of a thousand ways the lords could tear them apart.
They'd do something that would send a message. Something that, even if Mare survived, would leave her with far too many scars.
"And I can trust you?" I asked, teeth grinding together.
"Yes. It behooves us both."
My jaw tightened until it ached. I clenched my fingers around my sword hilt until I could no longer feel my hand.
"Fine," I breathed. "But you best keep your word."
"Then let us return," Lord Tiernan said. "Your fiancée will be eager to see you." He flicked his hand, motioning for Raild to follow him.
My brother shot me one last sour glare before turning his back.
I hesitated, staring through the trees, though Mare was long gone. What would she think when I did not go after her? I couldn't bear the thought of her alone, terrified, thinking I didn't care.
When Ailithir had asked me to protect his new Paragon, I had agreed without question. The thought of falling in love with her had never crossed my mind.
At first, everything had been as it should: I treated her as I would any squire, a weapon to sharpen, to mold. Somewhere along the way, I'd glimpsed the sun in her smile and seen it over and over in my dreams.
Every day, I had listened to her bicker with her brother, watched her mouth scrunch slightly as she thought of a witty jab. I'd seen the fear in her eyes each time we faced danger, fear that she hid behind a brave face.
No other woman had so effortlessly enraptured me. And I knew myself well enough to understand that trying to rid myself of these feelings was hopeless.
I wanted to run after her, pull her into my arms, and beg her forgiveness for putting her in such danger.
But protecting her was what mattered. I should never have kissed her.
I was a reckless idiot. No punishment would come my way for such an affair.
The Aenir nobles, the Solhearts . . . they would destroy Mare if they learned.
Father would use the opportunity to teach me a lesson, to keep me in line. I could imagine the horror he would inflict upon Mare, just to spite me.
Alistair had done the same: hurt her, to wound me.
What had become of him? Alistair had been kind when we were kids—fueled by righteous rage.
When the Sun Chasers had formed, Alistair had grown his ambitions from minor heists to toppling nobles.
All the Lecovair would die, he promised. We'd drag them from their thrones.
One had met his end by my blade. But no one remembered the assassin from the dark, the man I'd once been.
Maybe Alistair had been right. The Lecovair all deserved death—and they could meet it tonight.
Shivers ran up my arm. Golden veins streamed from the prosthetic and surged up to my shoulder. Whispers caressed the back of my mind.
Whispers from my past.
Slit their necks, and crown yourself in their blood.