Even if we broke the bond … what would happen to her if I went back to Lirien, like I needed to do? I wanted to delude myself into believing that she wouldn’t be held responsible, but I’d seen enough of Viori justice—and I knew Haldron. If I claimed my throne, what would he do to Seren? To her family?
I didn’t have long to dwell on it. Ciaran shifted, his face turning like stone. “Son of a bitch.” He studied the cobblestones beneath our feet as though they suddenly fascinated him.
Every muscle in my body tensed. “What is it?”
“We’re being followed.”
Not this again.
It didn’t surprise me, though. I’d known from the second I’d stepped into that throne room that Haldron would be keeping a close eye on Seren and me—if we made it out of there alive.
“Male or female?” I asked.
“Male.”
“If he’s after me, we should split up. Any place around here we can lead him into a trap?”
Ciaran blinked at me, as if surprised I’d suggest working with him—and use myself as bait. He nodded after a moment. “Three streets down, make a right, then go straight toward the keep’s wall. Wards at the top stop intruders, so he won’t be able to climb. Before you get there, there’s an alley to the left, then take a sharp right straight toward a dead end.”
“Metal bending and a good sense of direction. You might be a better warrior than I gave you credit for.”
I didn’t wait for a reaction before starting off. Whoever was following me might not be alone, but I had the advantage. I was trained for this.
A thrill shot through me as I moved. I’d never been addicted to danger before, but something about this felt like a hunt—a restless, prowling need for prey rattling through me.
But it grated that Ciaran had noticed our tail before I had.
I didn’t look back, trusting that Ciaran would be behind me. He might hate me, but his love for Seren made him a grudging yet unmistakable ally. Maybe the best I could hope for under the circumstances. If I had to give the Viori credit for anything, it was their loyalty—to their cause, their laws, and each other.
The crowd thickened, bodies jostling me from all sides. Each brush of a stranger’s hand felt like a threat, a whisper of danger. At last, I found the alleyway. Ciaran’s description had been apt—it ended at a tall stone wall, flanked by high buildings. Climbing the walls would require talent.
Footsteps sounded behind me, and I set a hand on my new sword, ready to draw.
A familiar scent reached me first.
“Thorne?” My voice was sharp, incredulous. “What the hell are you doing here?” Relief battled with dread. If Thorne had come, it could mean something in Lirien was terribly wrong.
He approached with a smirk, hands outstretched. “I thought I’d never catch you alone.” The clothes he wore appeared to have been taken off the back of someone else—someone much smaller. A hooded cloak hung around mid-shin, but it looked like Viori clothing. Beneath it, the bulk of his ever-present bearskin confirmed he hadn’t abandoned his old gear.
“I told you to?—”
A soft step sounded. Ciaran.
Fuck.
Thorne caught the direction of my glance, then sprang into action. As the two men crashed into each other, each of them attacking, I hurtled toward them. “Stop!” I grabbed each of them by the shoulders, trying to push them apart, but it was like trying to move two boulders.
Ciaran gave me a wild-eyed look, a dagger still at Thorne’s throat. “What are you doing?”
“You know this one?” Thorne growled at the same time, his own knife stopped perilously above Ciaran’s gut.
Both men stared at me, distrust of the other clear on their faces.
I could try to make up a story, but it would do nothing to foster any trust in Ciaran. Telling him Thorne was a friend was a risk—but necessary. Maybe even help Ciaran feel as though we were on an equal footing.
“Yes,” I said, releasing Thorne’s shoulder. “He’s my wife’s friend. He’s safe.”
Ciaran paled as Thorne lowered the knife. A flash of betrayal twitched at his lips as he looked from me to Thorne, dagger still dangerously positioned. “He’s a Lirien?”
