“Yes. What’s this I hear aboutmutiny?”
His mouth falls open.
“Captain Gunthar’s a good fellow. A level-headed man. Certainly one of my best, which is why I trusted him to transport such precious cargo back to the capital. I can’t for the life of me understand why you’d question his authority.”
The stuffy air grows taut.
“I ... I believed killing the beast would be the best option to preserve the life of your promised, sire.”
“Whom you later tried to murder.”
Silence.
The reek of fear ratchets up, coating the back of my throat.
“Nod for yes. Shake for no.”
It takes him a minute, but he finally nods. Once. A small, feeble thing.
“Right,” I mutter.
“I assumed—”
“You assumed wrong.”
He shuts his mouth so fast I hear his teeth clank together.
I grab my dagger, set the tip atop the crate, then flick it into a whirl and watch it spin. “Kavan was a great man. But Vanth … you almost cost meeverything.”
Snatching the blade in one hand, I drag the splinter’s honed tip along a deep scratch ripped across his neck—like Orlaith clawed at him, frantic and desperate—then use it to pierce the underside of his chin. He sucks a hiss through clenched teeth, eyes popping as I press firm enough to send blood shooting down the splinter’s length and across the expanse of my fingers.
“Now, be a good lad and poke out your tongue for your High Master.”
His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “High Master,please—”
“I won’t ask twice.”
A gasp inflates his chest. “I—I have a token! A favor passed down through generations since our ancestor’s home was destroyed to make way for the wall!”
Well.
Leaning back, I look him up and down. “Where is it?”
“My pants pocket. The left one. I always keep it close.”
“That’s handy,” I mutter, flicking the splinter on the floor. I weave my bloody hand in, drag my finger along the line of stitching, then pull it inside out. I lift a brow.
“The—the other one! I must have put it in the other one ...”
I dig into the other, pulling out a Bahari blue cupla with gold accents. “What’s this?”
His chin wobbles, and he looks at me through a sheen of tears. “K-Kavan was tasked with returning that to the forgery. A task he took very seriously. I want to complete it for him,” he says, voice cracking. “It’s the last thing I can do.”
“How sweet.”
I tuck it in my back pocket, and his eyes widen as I search his pocket again, flipping it inside out. “Nothing else there, Vanth.”
He turns a sickly shade of gray, then his face twists into an angry knot. “The kid must have taken it. He’s a little pickpocket!”
