29. Liam
Liam
Two Solhearts plotted to steal Paragon weapons. A third stood with me, familiar with them and distressed about something.
But what?
Bláth paced the roof, coattails flapping behind her. Lord Ishida's manor sprawled beneath us, an austere manor of snow white to contrast the surrounding black. If a Solheart approached it from any angle, we would see him.
The three-tiered roof of this building provided just enough space to stand, with the roof above casting a shadow on the one below. It was a beautiful hiding spot. If only Aenir had buildings like this, I could make good use of them.
In the silence and shadows, I'd tried to make sense of the Solhearts’ conversation, and Bláth's part in it. I was getting nowhere trying to piece this puzzle together in my head. Maybe she could help.
"If I'm right," I said, watching the golden woman walk back and forth. "These Solhearts instigated Killian and Ishii's death."
"I think so, too." Bláth glanced at me.
"Which means they have something to do with these attacks. But that’s—“
"Impossible?" Bláth stopped. Her fingers flexed into a fist and loosened. "I have a terrible feeling it's not."
A horn echoed from the south. It was high and reedy, nothing like Aenir's war horn.
The men retreating from Minsawa must have arrived. I tensed, listening for the alarm bells to sound. For an attack to begin.
But silence fell over the snow-covered city.
I breathed out in relief.
"I knew you couldn't be trusted." I turned back to Bláth. "I'd say you're hiding something, but that doesn't begin to cover the amount of secrets you're keeping and the lies you're spinning, does it?"
"I could say the same about you.” Bláth folded her arms. "In fact, I'd bet you've been beyond the wall before, haven't you?"
"Even if I had, it has nothing to do with whatever scheme you're a part of."
"What if it does?" She took a step closer. Warmth drifted from her skin, caressing me. "Listen, I—”
A voice from above cut her off. "It's not like you to spill secrets, Bláthie."
Bláth's eyes fluttered closed. My hand flew to my dagger.
A man leaped down from above—the Solheart Quinn had met with. He wore an easy smile on his traditionally handsome face. Golden-green eyes betrayed his mixed blood heritage, as did the silver tones in his blond hair.
"Easy there, friend," the Solheart said, showing me his palms. "I don't bite."
Bláth planted herself between us. "Here to steal Siotha, Alistair?"
"Oh no.” Alistair shook his head with a grin. "Hear that horn? That means Quinn's little gamble has begun."
I stepped around Bláth. "His gamble? You were furious with him about something—what?"
Alistair sighed. "You know how Quinn is, Bláthie." He paced to the edge of the roof and back. "Gets these ideas in his head, and doesn't listen."
"What did he do?" She asked, hand hovering by her belt.
She probably had a weapon hidden somewhere.
"Gave Siotha to that girl," Alistair said. "Seeing little Lady Rohan with Cierthine gave him ideas." His mouth curved into a twisted smile. "Oh, he thinks that's just poetic."
"What are you here for, then?" Bláth tried to step between us again.
I was happy to let her take the blow for me if the man struck.
"To tell you to get out.” Alistair brought his face close to hers. "This city will be overrun soon. These people will all die. So will that girl Quinn likes."
"And Lady Rohan? Will you let her die, too?"
"No. Take her. By force, if you have to."
I shoved past Bláth. "You want Mare to survive?"
Alistair's eyes flicked across my face. "I do. Does that surprise you?"
It did.
Why did they want my sister to live?
Bláth's hand fell from her belt. "How could you do this?"
"Easily, Bláthie.” Alistair backed away. "Easily." He stepped off the roof, tumbling backward.
Running forward, I looked over the edge. A burst of wind tore up from the ground, catching his fall. He landed lithely on his feet and disappeared into the shadows.
Cursing, I swung myself over the side and climbed down. Bláth followed, leaping the final stretch. Her knees buckled when she landed, but that didn't stop her from grabbing my arm and pulling me to her side.
"Help me get Mare out of here," she pleaded.
"What do you think I'm doing?" I hissed.
Her eyes softened. "You really love her, don't you?"
"A brother, loving his sister? Saints. Call the town criers, the people will never believe it."
"She'll need you.” Bláth ignored my sarcasm. "In the days to come."
What was going on? Yanking loose from her hold, I sprinted toward the south—where the horn had sounded. I had a feeling Reese would run straight toward it, and Mare wouldn't be far behind him.
We slammed into a sea of chaos. Soldiers ran in every direction, and captains barked orders. I pushed through the crowds, searching for a, thankfully, very obvious woman clad in luxurious purple and silver armor.
I found her arguing with Reese beneath a statue of dancing lovers. Or maybe, panicking in his general direction was a more apt description. Mare's hands waved every which way, occasionally pointing north. Reese's eyes darted in every direction, panicking in a much calmer manner than my sister.
Mare's deep purple eyes landed on me. "Liam!" She shouted.
"Turns out there won't be a heist tonight," I said, doubling over to catch my breath. "What's happening?"
Reese answered. "We'll be attacked soon—most likely before first starlight arrives."
"And," Mare added. “They've imprisoned our third Paragon."
Diar. That was the girl Quinn had given Siotha to.
"Shit.” Bláth appeared at my side. "Are they going to kill her?"
"I don't know," Reese said.
"She was right, though," Mare said, voice wavering. She lifted her chin and donned one of her masks. Her posture straightened, and her voice steadied. "We need to ride out—stop the attack before it can begin.”
"Ride out to find the scádes?" Bláth cut her hand through the air. "No, it's too dangerous."
"Not for me," Reese said. "Mare's already sought a scáde and killed it. This time, she'll be with me." His eyes darkened. "I'll keep her safe."
He spoke the words with such conviction that they might as well have been binding. I was almost charmed by them.
"But—” Bláth tried.
"Ferris," Reese said sharply. "Is gone. Which means he probably followed Yuudai and Diar. See to it that they live."
Swallowing, Bláth shot me a hard look. I read her expression and silent words.
She wanted—needed—Mare to live.
Spinning on her heel, she darted away.
Mare reached out to touch Reese's arm, but pulled her hand back. "I'll get our mounts. You should stay with the men."
"Be careful," Reese called.
My attention quickly diverted from my sister's retreating form to the Paragon watching her. His expression had shifted the moment Mare had turned her back.
A wave of concern tugged at his mouth, but something more gleamed in his eyes. There was pride there. He was impressed. But it was not the gaze an old master would give his student, nor the look a father would cast his son.
This was the look I imagined Father had given his wife when she'd beaten his ass in a duel.
Reese struggled to tear his eyes from Mare and turned without looking.
He walked straight into the statue.
Oh, no.
My sister was a heretical shadow wielder. She thought herself responsible for the death we'd borne witness to. The last thing she needed was a Solheart pining after her.
He was the most likely to hurt her.
Reese backed away from the statue, rubbing his nose. He noticed me staring at him.
Clearing his throat, he brushed his hair out of his eyes. "You should get to safety. Mare mentioned your catalyst doesn't work at night."
"Right.” I let the word hang in the air. “Solhearts aren’t allowed to court outside Forlaith, no?"
"No. Some can marry Fireborn lords," Reese said, folding his arms. "What's your point?"
I leaned in, lowering my voice. "Forbidden things are better left alone."
"I know.” Reese strolled around me. "But Paragons don't take orders from anyone save their sovereigns, and even then—” He smirked. "We have a way around them."
I'd seen it in person, Killian invoking the right of Cierthine.
"You sound less like a Paragon and more like a thief," I said.
"Takes one to know one." A mischievous glint darkened his golden eyes.
Exhaling, I watched the Paragon join the chaos to help direct men. Mare had mentioned noticing ink on his chest.
She was too innocent to know what they meant—but I did.
Certain underground organizations marked themselves in ink to identify one another. The ‘Paragon’ had a storied past.
Ferris, Reese, and I were all cut from the same cloth—rogues who didn't listen to anyone.
Over the sound of running, above the gates and beyond the shadows—I heard a familiar call. A tug on my soul, pulling me toward it.
Back to the Ceorthan Shadowlands.
It was no mere desire. Claws sank into my skin, ghostly hands wrapped around my bones. My feet moved without order, dragging me toward the southern gate.
Someone—or something—was trying to drag me back to the wall.
Taking a breath, I bit my lip, letting fresh pain distract from the foreign voice in my thoughts.
If no one else in the cursed city would follow orders, then neither would I.