The General
URALISH
Uralish turned to Syle before he had finished putting the flask away.
"Trophi," he said. "Now, while we still have the nerve for it."
Syle nodded once and fell into step. They left Filar House behind them and rode for Rathmor palace’s military quarters without stopping to eat or explain themselves to anyone who asked.
The military quarters Veynar had given the Avanki smelled of oil and old leather. By the smell of it, nobody had opened a window in weeks.
Trophi was at his desk when they found him. He did not stand.
The fucker had been given his own royal study here in Veynar, and look how he repaid them, Uralish could not help but think to himself.
"Regent," he said. His voice was calm and dignified, as it always was.
"General Trophi."
Enovar closed the door behind them. Syle stood in the corner of the room, his eyes not leaving Trophi's face.
Uralish did not sit. "The Avanki were redirected the night the Queen Heir was poisoned.
Through channels that do not organize themselves.
" He watched Trophi's face and found nothing on it worth noting yet.
"You have the access. You have the command structure.
What you do not have is a reason anyone can find. "
"Then perhaps there isn't one."
"Who are you working with?"
Trophi said nothing.
"Are you with the Opens?” Uralish asked. "Or perhaps one of Fyris's people, hoping to open the wards for whatever he thinks is on the other side of them?"
"No."
Uralish was getting tired of this little guessing game.
"Then was this about the protectorate bond?"
Trophi's mouth moved, close to a smile. "Or something else altogether."
"Which is?"
He did not answer that either.
"You redirected an army away from a woman you were sworn to protect," Uralish said. "Explain that to me in a way that does not end with you in a cell."
Trophi looked at him. Then he smiled, cold and untroubled.
"Seems a bit irrelevant now, doesn't it?” he said. "Given she's dead."
Enovar and Syle were on him before Uralish could move.
The chair went over backward, Trophi with it, and Enovar was on him before he landed, dragging him up by the front of his coat.
"I trusted you," Enovar shouted. His voice cracked on it. “I left her with you. You were supposed to protect her.”
Syle's fist caught Trophi in the jaw a second later, silent the whole time, his face giving away nothing while his knuckles did the talking.
Trophi did not fight either of them. He spat blood onto the floor and said nothing.
Uralish made a short motion with his hand. Two Avanki stepped in from the corridor.
"Put him in the same accommodations we've given the Dowager," Uralish said.
"Colsar said watch and wait," Enovar said, still breathing hard, still holding Trophi's coat in one fist.
"My niece was poisoned." Uralish did not raise his voice. "I respect the man. But I will do no such thing."
The Avanki took Trophi by both arms. He did not resist. He looked back once, at Uralish, still wearing that same unbothered face, and said nothing further.
They led him out.
Enovar stood in the middle of the room, hands shaking, Trophi's blood drying on his knuckles. Syle flexed his own hand once and said nothing.
"Was that wise?” Enovar finally asked, quiet.
"No," Uralish said. He reached for his flask. "But it was satisfying."
He drank.