Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Thorne secured his sword to his back in a swift motion. His breath was still uneven as he looked at Silas. “What happened?”
“Someone noticed the guards’ horses. They’re looking for a group of three that arrived here today. Apparently, someone gave our description and tipped them off.”
“How do you know this?” Gisela asked. “Weren’t you asleep?”
“I overheard them talking right outside my window. Crag could hear every word. There’s a man, asking for you by name, Thorne.”
The commotion from downstairs grew louder, boots stomping and angry voices echoing through the tavern.
Thorne stilled. “Why are they after me?”
“Less wondering, more running. Grab your things,” Silas urged. “We’re going out the window.” He led them to the small window at the far end of the room. He threw it open and peered down, assessing the distance to the ground below. “It’s a bit of a drop,” he said. “But we have no choice.”
The uproar from the hallway intensified as doors rattled under pounding fists.
Silas slipped through the window first, expertly lowering himself to the ledge before dropping down to the ground below.
Thorne followed, making the descent look effortless.
Gisela climbed onto the windowsill.
Thorne stood below with his arms outstretched, ready to catch her as she made the jump.
“Jump, Gisela,” he called, his eyes focused on hers. “I’ve got you.”
“This jump is child’s play,” she said. Gisela glanced back at the bed they shared only minutes ago. The door burst open behind her, and she let herself drop.
The three of them crouched low, moving swiftly through the shadows.
The sounds of the guards tearing through their room drifted through the night air. A man leaned out of the window, observing the ground below.
“It’s my father,” Thorne said, his voice tight.
“Let’s keep moving,” Gisela whispered.
They slipped into the night, heading back to the grate they used to enter the village.
As Thorne lifted it, Sabrina appeared a few feet away with her hand on her hip. She glanced over and her gaze sharpened.
Silas held his finger to his lips, eyes pleading for her to stay quiet.
Sabrina mirrored him, bringing her own finger to her lips, and then shouted, “Guards! They’re over here!”
Panic surged through Thorne. He dropped the grate to the side. “Go! Now!”
Gisela jumped down first, Silas following.
Thorne took one last glance at Sabrina, whose expression was smug and triumphant.
“You’ll regret that,” he spat.
Sabrina’s smirk only widened. “Not as much as you will, Thorne.”
Then his father rounded the corner. “Thorne!” Cillian bellowed, his voice reverberating off the cold stone walls. “Son, wait!”
Thorne gave a short, humorless laugh. “Son? Since when do you call me that?”
Cillian’s usual stern expression softened, strained with effort. “Your mother . . . she worries. You will return to Frosthaven.”
His father had always wielded her like a sword to manipulate him. Thorne’s expression hardened. “Oh, yes, because you suddenly give a shit about anyone but yourself. You’re a changed man.”
Cillian shifted uneasily, gripping the hilt of his sword. “I am a changed man. I’m captain of the guard now.” He stood in the vibrant red uniform of the King’s guard, the fabric crisp.
“He wants you close to him because you’re his loyal lapdog,” Thorne said. “You’re a fool if you think the King cares for you or Mystralos.”
Cillian laughed, dark and menacing. “The King knows what Mystics truly are. What they can give him. Their suffering will build his power, and when he’s done . . . the realm will be cleansed of them once and for all.”
“You have no idea what you’re up against.”
Cillian cocked his head, his nostrils flaring. “You dare threaten me? Be a man. Return to your mother and your betrothed.”
“Ruby is not my betrothed. I’m with Gisela Valor,” Thorne said.
Cillian’s expression twisted with rage. “That wretched little bitch? You’d bind yourself to someone like her?”
“Don’t you dare speak about her that way,” Thorne shot back. “I’d sooner bind myself to her than ever call you father again.” Every pain his father inflicted upon him, every lie he had ever fed him transformed into fury.
Thorne called Ignitus, who appeared behind him.
Cillian’s mouth fell open, eyes wide with terror.
Thorne unleashed a burst of dark flames from his hands, striking Cillian with a force that sent him crashing to the ground.
Cillian’s scream was pure pain and rage, a guttural sound that poured from him as he writhed on the floor, clutching the side of his face. Blackened burns marred his skin where the flames had struck. The air reeked of burned flesh, the surrounding stone walls shimmering with heat.
Thorne leapt down the grate, disappearing into the shadows below. His father’s cries echoed after him, then faded into silence.
Gisela and Silas stood frozen, watching him.
The heat radiating from Thorne’s skin slowly ebbed as he lifted his head. He reached for Gisela, his hand trembling when it found her.
The kiss he pressed to her lips was fierce, desperate—proof that something in the world was still good. And Gisela was good in every way he knew. She was all that made sense, all that felt safe, and he couldn’t shake the thought that he didn’t deserve her. But still, he couldn’t let go.
Wouldn’t.
Shouting and the thunderous pounding of boots flowed through the grate.
With a powerful motion, Silas manipulated the earth.
The ground trembled as stones and soil responded to his will.
The hole above them closed and the muffled sounds from above became distant and faint, swallowed by the newly formed barrier.
“Let’s move,” Silas said, the corner of his mouth lifting.
Thorne’s gaze lingered on Gisela, her wide eyes reflecting the heat and terror of the night. She was already moving toward him. Her hand closed around his arm, grip tight.
He saw the truth in her expression: fear, not of him, but for him.
He had publicly revealed himself.
As they exited the passage, the cool, fresh air of the night hit them once more.
“The nerve of that woman,” Gisela said.
Silas’s reply was somber. “I can’t believe she did that.”
“I can,” Thorne said flatly.
Gisela turned to Silas. His face carried that familiar ache, the one he tried to hide.
“Let’s go to Aquamere,” she said. “For Marina.”
Silas nodded. “If nothing else, I only need to see her. That means going through the Stone Rifts.”
“I was really looking forward to having horses,” Thorne grumbled.