Chapter 18
The urgent knock that pulled Rhen from the main room belonged to one of the front-gate guards.
Rhen had intended to continue toward the training center, where the impact of bone against leather might drown out the thoughts clawing through his skull. Instead, the guard stepped into his path with his helmet tucked beneath one arm and his posture held as rigidly as a spear.
The stale scent of cigarettes clung to Rhen’s coat despite the fact that he had not lit one tonight. He wanted the burn in his lungs, the brief destruction of something small and controlled, but even that seemed too close to relief.
The guard swallowed as Rhen approached.
“Sir.”
Rhen did not slow.
“Move.”
“There’s someone at the outer gate.”
The measured violence in Rhen’s steps stopped abruptly.
“Someone?”
The word emerged with enough contempt to make the guard straighten further.
“They refuse to leave until they speak to one of the brothers. They wouldn’t give a name or say who sent them.”
Rhen studied him.
“And you thought this required me?”
“Nobody comes to the stronghold unannounced,” the guard said. “Not now, with the wards damaged and the heir inside.”
Rhen stepped closer until the guard’s back touched the wall. He did not raise his voice or offer any theatrical display of anger. His proximity carried enough threat without either.
“You interrupted a meeting because someone decided to stand outside our gate?”
The guard tightened his grip on the helmet.
“They said they were compelled to come.”
That altered the situation.
Rhen eased back and turned toward the entrance corridor.
“Tell Dax I’m going to the gate. If this is another fool chasing rumors about the prophecy, I’ll leave enough of them behind to discourage the next one.”
He continued before the guard could answer, his coat moving behind him like the sweep of a dark blade.
The echo of his footsteps followed him through the corridor, as though the stronghold itself had learned to brace whenever the Charon moved through it.
The outer gate remained locked.
A single man stood beyond the iron bars, his chest rising and falling as though he had run most of the way there.
Sweat darkened the collar of his rumpled shirt and shone across his temples.
He appeared middle-aged and human, dressed too well to be destitute but too dirty and shaken to have arrived by choice.
The man’s breath caught when Rhen emerged from the darkness.
“I was sent.”
Rhen stopped on the opposite side of the gate.
“You should have refused.”
“I couldn’t.” The man’s voice fractured beneath the strain. “Someone compelled me. I swear I didn’t want to come here, and I didn’t want to know what was in it.”
Rhen’s gaze dropped to the folded paper shaking in his hand.
The wax seal had been broken.
“Then why did you read it?”
The messenger froze.
His throat moved around the lie he had nearly attempted.
“I was frightened.”
“Curiosity usually arrives before regret.”
The man extended the letter through the iron bars with a trembling hand.
Rhen did not take it immediately. He allowed the silence to expand until the messenger’s pupils widened and his breathing became ragged.
“You thought this was merely a house,” Rhen said quietly. “You thought you could deliver a message, satisfy your curiosity, and walk away with your memory intact.”
“I didn’t know what this place was.”
“No,” Rhen agreed. “You didn’t.”
He took the letter and broke what remained of the damaged seal.
His eyes moved quickly over the page. Whatever he read did not change his expression, but something tightened behind his silver gaze.
Rhen folded the paper once and crumpled it in his fist without tearing it.
The messenger stared at him.
“What did it say?”
Rhen lifted his eyes.
“You’re going to forget you ever asked.”