Chapter 26
Ryker
Zandyr’s shattered expression followed me through the icy streets, refusing to fall behind no matter how fast my feet pummeled the cobblestone leading up to the fortress.
I’d only wasted a few hours in the Capital after that heinous wedding, knowing the aftermath would have hit him harder than he’d anticipated.
Sometimes, I hated when I was right.
“What’s done is done,” Elysia had said as we’d all gathered around him. “The only way is forward. You’ll make amends and–”
“She tore her wedding dress.” Zandyr had gazed down at the golden threads of fabric as if his entire existence was slipping between his fingers. The joyful parts of it, at least.
This wasn’t the state of mind he should have been trapped in before a war.
I prayed some miracle would keep him standing. If the Dragon fell, the entire Blood Brotherhood would follow.
“We should be thankful she didn’t tear you,” I’d said. The Lost Daughter could have used that little knife of hers against him–and, at this point, Zandyr probably would have let her.
“You could try for more sympathy,” Soryn, a man known for ignoring emotions like they burned him, had muttered.
I could have. But I didn’t have anything left in me to give right then.
Not when I knew Zandyr had dragged all of us into this mess.
With the best of intentions and blood oaths made long before anyone had known the Lost Daughter was alive or the thought of The Huntress had even crossed my mind, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d broken her heart–and had forced me to keep his secrets from Allie.
My loyalty had never been negotiable, but now it felt stretched thin enough to snap with one wrong decision.
My allegiance to my Clan and my allegiance to Allie should have been in balance.
At the end of the day, we all wanted to reach the same goal–but the paths to it were vastly different. And the one that beckoned me toward Allie hadn’t involved a blood oath which could have turned fatal and ruined us all.
It didn’t matter. Forced betrayal was still betrayal.
“I support you,” I’d said, looking at Zandyr. “But I won’t support something wrong just because I care for you. And what happened today wasn’t right.”
“I know,” he’d said, resigned.
“The Lost Daughter will discover the truth, Brother,” were all the words of encouragement I could muster.
Now Zandyr had to pray she would understand.
I knew no such understanding awaited me.
As soon as I passed the guards with a curt nod and stepped into the fortress’ atrium, devoid of life at this hour, I felt Allie’s anger as plainly as my own.
I loosed a stuttered breath.
What the dagger had ripped, this wedding could tear beyond repair.
Mrs. Thornbrew’s quick steps met mine. She already had her robe and woolen night cap on, the tip flopped to the side, but she was smiling at me knowingly, like she’d been waiting all night for this moment.
“You shouldn’t have bothered getting out of bed for me,” I muttered, feeling lousier the wider her grin got.
“Pish posh.” She tsked. “Nadya and Geryll wanted to greet you, but I sent them to bed. That boy was buzzing with questions about the Capital. He can’t wait to see it.”
A heavy sigh ripped at my lungs. At least Geryll was happy.
She furrowed her brows. “Did something happen at the wedding?”
The inevitable.
That still didn’t make any of it right.
“Clan schemes.” I shrugged, hopefully dissipating her concerns. “Everyone’s alive.”
Broken, but alive–and that’s what mattered in this Clan.
Surviving.
“I suggest you leave all that mess and your frown at the door.” Mrs. Thornbrew approached and righted my robe, patting my chest. “She’s waiting in the dining room. She insisted on staying up until you returned, bless her.”
Not in her room. Definitely not in mine.
The dining room, where we’d negotiated our marriage contract.
Where we’d had our first kiss.
I tensed harder. Allie didn’t plan things recklessly, which I usually valued in her, among the myriad of other ways she impressed me daily.
If she was waiting for me there, there was a reason. A sinister one–which I deserved.
“I prepared a nice, grand meal for you two.” Mrs. Thornbrew winked at me. “And you’re both dressed for the occasion.”
I didn’t know what one would wear to an evisceration. Probably red robes, so the blood wouldn’t be as gory.
“Thank you,” I muttered as Mrs. Thornbrew retreated, winking at me one last time before she vanished down the shadows of the hallway.
At least she’d warned me.
I rolled my tight shoulders back and raced up the stairs, feeling worse with each step.
How Allie must have ached when she’d seen her cousin’s devastation in front of the altar. I had no love for her family and my own heart, as frozen as they all said it was, had panged for the Lost Daughter’s sorrow.
I couldn’t warn her. Any of them.
The blood oath would have taken lives if spoken. The secret would have shattered more if it had been revealed.
Yet all those motives, logical and worthy by themselves, paled in comparison to Allie’s anguish, pulsing right behind the doors to the dining room.
My fingers trailed on the wooden grooves, as if I could take her pain away with one touch.
I couldn’t. Not when I’d been part of causing it.
Now all I could do was face the consequences and hope they wouldn’t shatter us.
With a heavy sigh and a thousand explanations roiling inside of me, I pushed the double doors open.
Mrs. Thornbrew had indeed laid out a grand feast, spiced meats and roasted vegetables glistening in the firelight.
Allie sat at the end of the table I now thought of as hers, a glass of dark red wine in one hand, toying with the dagger’s pommel in the other. The tip of its blade scratched the table as she twirled it.
Mrs. Thornbrew hadn’t warned me nearly enough for this.
Allie looked ravishing in a dress that caught the fire’s light as if it didn’t want to let it go.
Blue.
The Protectorate color.
The dress looked like the gods themselves had weaved it out of the first spring waters flowing down the mountains, specifically so she could torment me with her beauty.
It was also similar to the torn blue dress I’d first met her in, this slit intentional to show off her crossed legs. But that dress had embodied mayhem and survival, ripped, bloodied, barely clinging to her body.
This dress was dangerous.
Worse.
It was a message.
Before my ravenous gaze even graced the sharp smirk on her face, my insides twisted, because I could tell.
She was out for vengeance–and I deserved it.