Chapter 20 #2
My stomach heaved. How long had this been going on under the nose of every citizen of Valnar? And if it wasn’t Ewan, who was it? What kind of monster could snatch women off the streets, murder them in cold blood, and leave only the bones behind?
“I’ve heard there’s evidence the girls were taken from completely different areas of the city,” he mused.
“One from the outskirts and one from the Trade District. Then there’s your attempted abduction from the alley not far from the city center.
And you had little in common with each other.
I wonder.” He trailed off, tapping his chin.
“What?” I urged.
“Perhaps Ewan was possessed.”
I sucked in a breath even though I already knew that it was possible to impose your will on others; Enhart had demonstrated that to me on my very first day of training. “By whom?” I asked.
“Based on this,” he gestured to the pentagram, “I’d put my coin on a witch.”
My eyes widened. It couldn’t be. “How could that be? There’s so few of us left.”
He shrugged. “It’s not a perfect theory, but it might explain why he was acting the way you described on the night of the attack.”
“But why would a witch want to possess him?” I asked. “Why not do their own dirty work?”
“The castle isn’t the only thing that’s warded in Valnar,” he said. “I can’t be sure of the specifics, but it could be that whoever is behind this was unable to enter the city on their own.”
“So, they possessed Ewan to make some kind of sacrifice on their behalf?”
“Could be. Death is a powerful source of magic. And five deaths? Channeled by the right person? Unimaginable.”
I grimaced. “Could it have been an offering to the gods?” Malteth, the God of War, derived his power from blood spilled on the battlefield. He wasn’t the only one. Many of the lesser gods were known for their love of violence.
“No gods that I know of,” he said. “They prefer their sacrifices to be killed honorably, if you can call war honorable. And no god I know of uses the pentagram.”
I stared wordlessly into the empty cavities of what had once been a woman’s face.
She could be Alice, the merchant’s daughter, whose family pleaded for answers at the feet of the King himself.
I would never forget the sight of them in the great hall, the distance between them spurred by the loss of their child.
Or perhaps she was Ruby, the servant girl who couldn’t shed her past life no matter how hard she tried.
The young woman whose place I could have easily taken if not for a twist of fate.
No one but Sigrid had asked after her, but she still mattered.
She mattered to me.
Anger ignited in my chest. I wouldn’t let any of the bodies in this room become faceless piles of bones and ash. I couldn’t. My eyes snapped up from the remains as Enhart straightened. “Don’t tell me that you’re about to be sick,” he said warily.
“I’m not,” I lied, bile rising in my throat. “This is just a lot to take in.”
He was by my side in an instant, his fingers wrapped around my elbow. “Might I suggest you tell Mordric about this? He has all the resources in the kingdom at his disposal.”
“He’s already made it pretty clear that he doesn’t approve of me getting involved in this,” I said.
“Perhaps he’ll change his mind,” the prince countered.
“I won’t.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin, treading on Enhart’s toes as I spun around. Mordric stood below the opening to the cellar, his lips pulled into a straight line. Anger wafted from his skin like smoke.
His eyes swept over us, landing on his brother. When he spoke, his tone sent a chill down my spine. “What were you thinking?”
“It’s my fault,” I said, ignoring every instinct that screamed at me to keep quiet. “I asked him to bring me.”
“You put her in danger,” Mordric accused his brother, continuing as if he hadn’t heard me.
“I had everything under control,” Enhart countered.
“Under control? She looks like she’s about to faint.”
“She’s fine.”
“I can speak for myself, thanks,” I snapped. “It’s just a bit of a shock. You know that Enhart wouldn’t put me in danger, Mordric. You wouldn’t have trusted him to train me if you thought otherwise.”
I resisted the urge to recoil as Mordric’s cold gaze shifted to me. “We’re leaving.”
“There could be important information here—” I began, my words cut short as he wrapped an arm around my waist and shot up through the cellar door and onto the street.
He dropped me with a thud. I cursed, tripping over my own feet in order to stay upright. Enhart slipped out of the cellar, lowering the door back into place behind us.
“Mordric, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, but I can’t pretend like this doesn’t matter to me anymore,” I pleaded. “It’s important.”
He rounded on me. “The only important thing is that you’re safe. There is a carriage waiting at the end of the street to take you home. You will get in it without protest, or I will throw you into it myself. Go.”
I shook my head, scarcely believing my ears. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
I bristled. “I don’t appreciate you ordering me around like a child you—”
Beside me, Enhart groaned. “Do you see?” he said to his brother, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as if staving off a migraine. “I’ve been telling you this whole time that she’s a pain. Imagine having to deal with this every evening.”
Air hissed between my teeth. Prick.
Mordric rounded on his brother, fangs bared. “Make yourself scarce. Now.”
Enhart remained rooted to the spot. “Forgive my insolence, brother, but these streets are not empty. In fact, many a commoner traipses through them most regularly. You wouldn’t want to be caught by your subjects making a scene, would you?”
An icy silence fell between them. Mordric’s eyes flitted to the windows of the apartments surrounding us as if searching for a flicker of life behind the drawn curtains. A beat passed, and his expression grew placid.
“Carriage,” said Mordric, without looking at me. “Now.”
I curled my fingers into fists at my side. “You—” I nearly choked on a few choice words as Enhart’s voice echoed in my mind. Leave now. Before this gets even further out of hand.
I shot him a dark look. “Fine,” I conceded, seething silently as I stalked off toward the carriage. I hoisted myself into it as noisily as possible, slamming the door behind me. We set off with a jolt, the carriage bouncing precariously along the narrow streets.
I waited for almost an hour in my chambers for Mordric to return, pacing to and fro before the open windows.
Frustration smoldered in my chest. I was no closer to understanding Ewan’s motivations, and now I was both furious with Mordric and devastated that I had angered the one person who meant the world to me.
I shuddered as I recalled his expression. It was as if a mask had slipped from his handsome face, revealing the volatile temper that lurked beneath the perfect image. I’d once caught a glimpse of it in the study with Viscount Harring. But this was different somehow. I’d barely even recognized him.
Glancing out the window, I stopped short. The rising sun was beginning to cast its bloodred glow over the grounds. “Letlas damn them,” I cursed under my breath. There was no way that Mordric and Enhart were still arguing on the streets of Valnar.
I had never been to Mordric’s chambers, but Niamh and Nathalie had been assigned there more than once, so I had a vague idea of where they were.
Squaring my shoulders, I exited my chambers and stalked off toward the royal apartments, my hands curled into fists at my sides.
The nobles were all asleep in their beds by now, so I encountered no one on the long walk to the royal family’s wing.
The corridor widened until it spat me out in a circular gallery, gilded with silver accents and dusted to within an inch of its life.
I’d expected to find guards, or perhaps a butler waiting outside the King’s door to receive his orders, but the chamber was deserted.
I inhaled slowly. Closing my eyes, I let my will guide me straight to a door that was as tall and imposing as the King himself.
The mahogany had been polished until anyone who dared visit him here would be forced to face their own reflection first. Mine was wide-eyed. I steeled myself, raising my fist.
The door swung wide before my knuckles touched wood, revealing Mordric staring down his nose at me.
His jaw was clenched, his lips pulled into a tight line.
He stepped back without a word, permitting me to enter.
My gaze raked over the chamber, which was just as grand as Niamh had described.
The massive room was a tapestry of royal colors, from the crimson curtains that blocked the floor-to-ceiling windows to the ebony sheets that covered the bed.
Mordric crossed to a short table and poured whiskey into an empty tumbler, swirling the amber liquid around the glass before he took a sip.
“Why have you come?”
I faltered at the edge in his voice, willing myself to be strong. “I’ve come for an apology.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You expect me to apologize to you?”
“After you shouted at me in the middle of the street? Yes.”
“You disobeyed me.”
I drew myself up to my full height. “I’ve asked more than once for your help, but you’ve done nothing, squirreled away in your study for hours on end. I had to take action.”
“How dare you accuse me of doing nothing. I’ve sent patrols, I’ve engaged my seneschal to speak to the families of the victims. What more could you want from me?”
“I want this solved!” I cried. “Not just for me, but for all of them. You were in that cellar, too, Mordric. You saw what’s been done. Don’t you want to understand why?”
“I don’t have time to personally look into every crime that happens in my kingdom, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to understand that.”
“I’m sick of everyone implying that I’m naive just because I’m not highborn,” I snapped. “As if my problems are smaller just because I come from the Outlands.”