“I’ll see to it,” Narthing said. “We’ll leave the castle gates closed and check any pass through.”
“I’ll just be a moment,” Verice said. “I need to be certain Warna is safe.”
Charrin tightened hisgrip around the human’s waist as she shifted. “Be still, or I’ll kill you now,” he warned.
“I just—” he heard her breath catch, felt her slender fingers tighten on his arm. But she wasn’t really struggling against him. He’d pulled her over, half-leaning, half-sitting on his lap. She’d braced herself with her free hand, but the other remained clasped on his wrist, wedged between his arm and her throat. He held the blade angled, just below her ear.
It was awkward and uncomfortable, but she wouldn’t feel that way long.
Only until Verice opened the door to their hiding place.
The air warmed quickly, with the two of them in this small space. Charrin could see no detail, but he didn’t really need to. He’d see enough to know when Verice was before him, and he’d hear the mael’s pain. A pity he’d not see his face, but it was enough. It would suffice.
Time seemed to hang in the air, suspended as they waited.
“Why?” Warna broke the silence, her voice hoarse and pained.
Charrin ignored her, still straining to hear footsteps in the hall outside.
“You accepted his bread, his wine,” she was trying to get her breathing under control, trying to calm him, distract him. “Where is the honor—”
“Where is his?” Charrin hissed. “He takes no vengeance, and King Barathiel will take no action.” He licked his lips, and tightened his grip on her waist, drying his sweaty palm on the fabric of her dress. “He will watch you die, as my beloved Summer died. Let him know my pain.”
Warna let out a pained sob, but she said nothing more. He felt her trying to ease herself into a more comfortable position. “Stay still,” he snapped.
“You said you were trying to forgive,” she whispered.
“You read more into my words than was there,” Charrin gloated. “As I intended.” He drew a breath, trying to tamp down on his nervousness. He’d planned to kill her at the high table, before all, stabbing deep within her heart and rejoicing as Verice -Verice- tried to stem the tide of blood and pain.
But this was surer, better. He just had to be patient, to wait for the right moment. He could do this for his lady. For Summer.
A sob welled up in his chest for his lost lady. What right did love and beauty have to exist in a world she no longer graced? He missed her so, her touch, her laugh—
The human woman squirmed in his arms again, her hand moving on his arm. “Stay still,” he growled. “I’m warning you—”
There were running footsteps in the hall, and the door slid open. Charrin could make out a body in front of the opening.
“Warna,” Verice said, and then awareness flooded into his voice. “Warna.”
Charrin laughed, and pulled the knife back, feeling her flesh part beneath the blade, and warm blood cover his hand. “Here,” he pushed her body away, and laughed again as he relished Verice’s cry of horror.
Chapter Sixty-Five
“Warna,” Verice’s voice was filled with horror.
“Now you know!” Charrin’s joy grew as he saw the vague shape of Verice take the body of the woman into his arms. “Now you know what it felt like, Verice. My grief, my pain, my endless sorrow—”
Rough hands grabbed him as the guards pulled him from the hiding place. He let the dagger clatter to the floor. They forced him down face-first, binding his hands. Still Charrin laughed, his heart light for the first time since—
“Ow,” said a woman’s voice.
“What?” Charrin sputtered, straining his neck up to see. That sounded like—
“Hush, Warna,” Verice’s voice shook. “I need to put pressure on your palm, to stop the bleeding. The knife went deep—”
“Better my hand than my throat,” Warna said.
The world crashed in on Charrin, and he started to howl horrible dry sobs, with eyes that no longer produced tears. He laid his head back down, the marble cold beneath his cheek. He’d failed, he’d failed, and the pain of that failure welled up within him.
