20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
S tepping into the house, I keep my movements as casual as possible, making myself appear less threatening. For Kheldryn and Savell, the quiet swiftness comes naturally, and even Gryska and Ronan attempt to lighten their steps. Though, unlike Ronan, the burly female’s not quite successful, clambering through the narrow threshold with an awkward smile.
Despite it having been over a month since the late High King’s murder, fear still bleeds from Arella, thick and flowing like an open wound. As it would, I imagine, for anyone who’d witnessed a brutal murder, especially the murder of one of the most powerful males in Inatia.
I clench my teeth. The sooner I find Viridian’s father’s killer, the sooner I can eliminate the threat to his reign and potentially his life. I’d be a fool to think that whoever killed Vorr wouldn’t go to the same lengths again to clear what they might perceive as an obstacle in their path. They’ve already killed one king. What’s one more?
Banishing the worrisome thoughts from my mind, I direct my focus to my surroundings. With a compact hearth at the center of the main room, a small wooden table, and a few chairs, Arella’s cottage is just as cozy on the inside as it is from the outside.
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with us,” I tell Arella, and I mean it. Without her, we’d be searching aimlessly.
“Of course, Cap—my lady.” With a timid, submissive air about her, she dips her head to me in acknowledgment, as if I’m still the Captain of the High King’s Guard, and she, a servant.
“There’s no need for formalities,” I say, a warm smile at my lips. “We’re not at High Keep any longer, nor do we hold our former roles.” I gesture to the walls surrounding us. “This is your home. You’re in charge here.”
Though only slightly, Arella’s shoulders loosen. “You’re right.” Waving a hand to the table and chairs, she says, “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
Asheros and I sit in the two chairs across from Arella, while Kheldryn sits beside her, leaning forward with motherly concern apparent in her demeanor. With the four chairs occupied, Ronan, Savell, and Orim stand by the table while Gryska plops herself onto the floor in between the three of them, sitting with her legs crossed.
“Before we begin,” Asheros says, his tone gentle, “I’d like for us to introduce ourselves, if that’s all right with you?”
Eyes sweeping the room, Arella nods. “That would be nice.”
Asheros flashes her a smile. Had I not been sitting beside him, my knees would have weakened. “My name is Asheros, and these are my companions. Kheldryn, Savell, Ronan, Gryska, and Orim.”
Each gives a little wave when Asheros says their name. All but Savell, who merely makes a subtle motion of his head. Arella’s gaze brightens when she finally turns to Orim, the warmth of his smile seeming to ease the chill of her fear.
My gaze locks with Asheros’s, and I offer him a small smile to convey my thanks. He dips his head to me with the kind of reverence a soldier offers their leader.
“Tell us your story,” I say to Arella. “What happened the night High King Vorr was killed?”
“I…” Wrapping her arms around herself, Arella takes a breath. “I couldn’t sleep. I’d been so busy with my chores that I’d missed dinner.” She swallows. “In the middle of the night, I got out of bed and slipped into the kitchens for some bread.”
Asheros nods while she speaks, encouraging her to continue without using words .
“I was heading back up to my room when—” Color drains from Arella’s face.
“It’s all right,” Kheldryn says softly. “You’re safe, now.”
“Nothing will hurt you as long as we’re here,” I promise. “You have my word.”
“And mine,” Asheros echoes, taking my hand in his.
Warmth blooms in my chest, flushing my cheeks. I keep my eyes trained on Arella, but I can feel Asheros’s attention shift to me.
“When I came upstairs, I saw a fae male dragging… something out of the East Tower.”
My eyes widen.
Since the death of Viridian’s mother, the late High Queen Azalinah, Vorr commanded no one enter the East Tower save for himself or his private guard. That command meant that even I couldn’t step foot into that wing despite my position as captain of his guard.
“Then…” Arella hesitates, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Out of nowhere, the male had wings.”
My blood runs cold.
“Wings?” Savell leans forward, mouth parted with the shock we all must feel. I’ve never heard of anyone, fae or human, who could magically evoke wings.
How is such a thing even possible?
None of the five precious metals from Inatia’s Courts are capable of such a thing. And as far as I’m aware, channeling the magical qualities of the metals is the only way to use magic .
But clearly, that’s not true.
Silence hangs around us, heavy and cold.
A fae with the ability to bring forth wings…
“Gods above,” I murmur, ripe with realization. To the others, I explain, “When the late High King’s body was found, he was several feet above the ground, held up by a sword through the chest pinning his corpse to the castle wall.” I press my lips together before continuing. “The killer must have used his wings to lift the body so high off the floor.”
“Yes,” Arella says slowly. “I… I watched him do it.”
Kheldryn gives Arella’s arm a light squeeze. “That must have been terrifying.”
Tears well in Arella’s eyes. “I was so sure I was going to die.”
“But you didn’t,” I say, my voice warm. “You’re here. You’re alive.”
She nods, taking a deep breath. “Only because I screamed. When I did, the killer fled.”
“Were you able to see his face?” I ask.
High Keep had been on lockdown leading up to Vorr’s death. That means, the murderer is someone known to us, and we have a definitive list of suspects to draw from. Maybe, with some kind of physical description, Asheros and I can narrow our list of potential suspects.
Arella shakes her head, mouth curved into a frown. “Not really. But his eyes…” Her voice trails off, lost in the memory.
I lean forward. “Can you remember what they looked like?”
Brows drawn, a crease forming between them, she’s quiet for a moment.
“They were red,” Arella murmurs. “And they were—gods, they were so angry. I’ll never forget the way he looked at me.”
Dread sinks into the pit of my stomach. “Red eyes?”
“Blood red,” Arella says. She sniffles, shoulders shaking with her breath. “I’m sorry. That’s all I know.”
Kheldryn pulls Arella into her arms, and the girl melts into the fae’s embrace. Orim approaches them, touching his palm to Arella’s back, rubbing the space between her shoulders in a back-and-forth motion.
Tugging at Asheros’s sleeve, I pull him aside, leading him some distance away from the others. I keep my voice low, though my breath grows quicker with each inhale. “Red eyes.”
“Which means the killer is from the Copper Court,” Asheros says, finishing my thought.
“But—” My words catch in my throat like knives slicing into me from within. “Myrdin and Tanyl were the only Copper Court nobles at High Keep when Vorr was murdered.”
“What about the servants?” Asheros asks.
“I’m sure some of them are from the Copper Court, but…” I shake my head, unable to face what must be the truth. “Do you truly believe a servant is behind this?”
Asheros presses his lips into a fine line, tension working at his jaw. “I don’t.” His eyes narrow. “But a servant could have been acting on behalf of someone in a position to gain from Vorr’s death. Until we know for sure, we can’t rule out the possibility.”
“And whoever did this is fae, or part fae,” I think out loud.
“Right.” He nods. “And I imagine not many of High Keeps servants are part fae and from the Copper Court.”
“Exactly.” I clench my jaw and curl my hands into fists at my sides. My mind struggles to make sense of the possibilities: Tanyl, Vorr’s loyal, soft-spoken brother-in-law. The mediator, the diplomat. Myrdin, the cheerful, charismatic nephew of Vorr. The Myrdin I know could never hurt a fly. Or a servant working on behalf of some other noble fae with much more to gain from an all-out war amongst the Courts.
None of them are easy to swallow But only one of those theories seems plausible. I don’t want to dare consider that one of my closest, most trusted friends could be behind such treachery.
“It will be all right, Lymseia,” Asheros says softly. He cups my face, bringing my eyes to his. “We’ll find the killer and bring him to justice.”
Sincerity and resolve blaze in Asheros’s gaze, pouring into mine. I wish I could share his optimism. But I’ve never been one to get my hopes up.
“Justice is worthless if there’s no kingdom left to defend,” I say .
Still cupping my face, Asheros touches his forehead to mine. “There will still be a kingdom to defend, my Bladesinger. You’ll make sure of it.”
He’s right.
I will.
Even if it means I have to fight until my dying breath.
With my mouth set, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. A moment passes before I straighten my back and hold my head high. Though I may not be the Captain of the High King’s Guard anymore, I’m still a warrior and I will carry myself as one.
Despite the implications of what we’ve learned from Arella today, I know more about my enemy. Ceren’s words echo in my mind, a reminder of what I have to do.
“If you do not first know your enemy, how do you expect to defeat them?”
An enemy I know is an enemy I can destroy.
But…
What if my enemy is someone close to me? Will I have the strength to do what must be done?
I swallow. Perhaps I won’t know the answer until the time comes.
“Asheros.” Savell’s voice breaks the silence, demanding both his and my attention. Savell motions his head to the left. “The window.”
The tenderness in Asheros’s face vanishes, a shift to lethal stillness evident in his demeanor, and his eyes slide to the window on the cottage’s left side. “What did you see?”
“Someone was watching us,” Savell says, his tone serious.
“Kheldryn, Gryska, and Orim,” Asheros commands, “stay with Arella.”
Still holding Arella, Kheldryn’s brows pinch together, her expression laced with worry. Orim nods, and Gryska takes a protective stance in front of Kheldryn and Arella.
To Savell and Ronan, Asheros orders, “You two, with us.”
Like a military commander leading his squadron, Asheros moves swiftly to the door, and then outside the cottage. Night has fallen in the time we’ve been inside speaking with Arella. Keeping his body close to the cottage’s exterior walls, Asheros takes carefully calculated steps, his eyes and ears alert.
Following him, I do the same, muscle memory and instinct driving my movements. At my back, Savell and Ronan stay close.
The sounds of crunched earth sail across the light wind.
Asheros and I pause. He holds up a fist, and I feel Savell and Ronan stop behind me.
A figure moves in the darkness ahead of us, movements slow but calculated. The way a hunter would when closing in on their prey.
Is the killer here?
Who else would be slinking around in the shadows, stalking the only witness to his crime?
Adrenaline courses through me, fueled by my wrath. I withdraw my blades, gripping them tightly .
Asheros pulls out his silver dagger, then positions his hands in front of his face in a defensive stance. With his free hand, he motions toward the other side of the cottage. Understanding Asheros’s wordless command, Savell and Ronan slip around the back. He gestures to me next, and we prowl forward, our weapons at the ready.
I surge forward, past the cottage, leaping out into the open space between Arella’s modest home and the surrounding brush. Not even a moment later, Asheros follows, battle ready at my side.
The figure whirls around, his face obscured by his hood and the darkness. Red eyes land on me and widen. In a swift motion, he turns around only to be blocked by Ronan and Savell. We spread out, surrounding our target on all sides and then close in, forcing him back toward the wall of Arella’s cottage.
“Who are you?” I demand.
The killer says nothing. Instead, he cocks his head forward, as if amused.
If I could see his face, we’d have our answer, but that gods-damned hood he wears falls too low for me to discern any identifying features besides those red eyes.
“Answer me!” I shout.
The red-eyed male only laughs.
Something inside me snaps. I lunge, swinging my blades. He dodges but lets out a sharp hiss. When I pull my blades back toward myself, I note the blood glistening at the tip of my left one.
Stepping closer, I reach for the male’s hood, all too eager to reveal his identity. With the ease of a well-trained warrior, he blocks me. The motion knocks me back, but I quickly reclaim my balance.
But I’m not fast enough.
In the time it takes me to reorient myself, wings materialize from the red-eyed male’s back. They appear out of thin air, translucent at first before solidifying. Dark, feathered wings propel him into the skies like a shooting star. Amidst his takeoff, his hood falls, revealing rich brown hair beneath the light of the moon.
Hair, the same color as…
Myrdin.
Lost for breath, I stagger backward. My blades nearly slip from my grasp.
“Gods-damn it, Bladesinger!” Asheros curses, rushing to me. “What on earth were you thinking?”
“I was impulsive and stupid, I’m aware,” I grumble, sheathing my blades. Shame washes over me, and I wipe my face. If she were here, Ceren would have thoroughly scolded me for my lack of caution. That kind of recklessness gets people killed.
Bracing myself for Asheros’s anger, I take a breath. But when I meet his stare, it’s not anger I see. Not even disappointment, or annoyance.
All I see is pure, unbridled fear .
“He could have—” Swallowing whatever he’d started to say, he searches my expression, and his diamond irises soften as he does. He reaches for me and pulls me to his chest. “You could have been hurt.”
At first, I stiffen.
He was… Afraid for me?
I melt into his embrace and wrap my arms around him in return. I don’t know how long we stand there, holding each other, before I hear Savell and Ronan shift their weight behind us.
Asheros and I part, though, his hand on the small of my back keeps me close.
“Come,” he says. “Let’s rejoin the others.”
B ack inside Arella’s small cottage, the eight of us, including Arella, don worried looks. Unease hangs in the air, heavy with the implications of what just occurred.
“Thank the gods we were here,” Kheldryn murmurs, an arm wrapped around Arella. “If we hadn’t…”
“If we hadn’t”—Asheros’s eyes narrow in thought—“tonight would have ended very differently.”
“She’s not safe here,” Savell adds, very matter-of-factly.
“Oh really?” Gryska crosses her arms, her voice gruff. “What gave ya that impression?”
Ignoring Gryska, Savell gestures to Arella. “She needs protection.”
“I agree.” Asheros nods and then directs his attention to Orim. “If I asked you to take Arella to your family’s manor and guard her until we’ve dealt with Vorr’s killer, would you?”
“You know I’d do anything you asked of me.” Orim’s jaw sets with determination.
“Good.” Asheros looks at Arella, some of the tension working at his mouth easing. “Whether you choose to stay here, or go with Orim, the decision is yours and yours alone.”
“I promise, I’ll keep you safe,” Orim says, meeting her eyes. “I know you don’t know me well enough yet, but I hope to earn your trust.”
As though seeking her guidance, Arella turns to Kheldryn, her eyes wide.
“He may look unassuming,” Kheldryn says, her tone warm, “but he’s fierce and one of the most loyal males in the realm.”
At her words, a hint of a smile plays at Orim’s mouth, though it doesn’t shake the resolve from his demeanor.
“He won’t let anything happen to you,” Kheldryn adds.
Waiting for a response, all heads turn to Arella.
Gods, I hope she agrees. If she dies, it will be on my conscience.
She takes a breath. “I’ll go.”
Relief crosses Asheros’s face. “Good.” To Orim, he says, “You should leave at dawn.”
Orim nods. “We will.” Turning to face the others, he offers us a small smile. “I guess this is goodbye.”
“It’s only goodbye for now,” Kheldryn says, pulling him into an embrace. “We’ll see each other again soon.”
At that, Orim smiles. “We will.”
Gryska uncrosses her arms and holds out a fist. “Don’t die, all right?”
Orim laughs and touches his fist to hers. “I have to live. I have a roast turkey waiting for you the next time I see you.”
Gryska lets out a booming laugh. “My favorite. I’ll hold ya to that.”
Ronan is next. Motioning to himself with two hands, he says, “Bring it in.” Orim grins and pulls Ronan into a hug. Ronan returns the gesture, patting him on the back. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
“I’ll try not to,” Orim quips, taking a step back. “But I can’t make any promises.”
Savell merely dips his head at his friend. “Until we meet again.”
“Take it easy, Savell,” Orim replies before turning to Asheros and me.
“I know you’ll keep her safe.” Asheros holds out his hand to Orim. When he takes it, Asheros places a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon, my friend.”
Orim meets Asheros’s eyes, his expression solemn, mirroring Asheros’s. Glancing between us, he says, “Be safe. Both of you.”
I nod, the sting of his goodbye fresh on my cheeks. Though I haven’t known Orim for very long in the grand scheme of things, I’ve gotten used to his company.
I’ll miss him.
“Same to you,” I say.
Orim’s lips perk up. He looks back at Arella. “I will.”
“Come.” Asheros guides me to the door. “We’ll stay at the inn for the night. In the morning, we’ll determine our next steps.
Letting him usher me forward, I take a deep breath. The others, save for Orim and Arella, follow. Mindlessly, I move where Asheros directs me, welcoming his hands around my waist when he hoists me up onto our mount.
Once behind me, as if sensing the storm raging within me, he gently pulls me to his chest, supporting my weight. Though he doesn’t speak, I hear his wordless message.
Rest, my Bladesinger.
I let go and relax in Asheros’s arms. Tenderly, he adjusts his hold around me.
Tonight, I’ll rest. Because come dawn, I will not stop until Vorr’s killer has been brought to justice.