The way his words trailed off rattled my nerves. Something was wrong. I expected him to argue, to defend his case longer. I’d known Darrien for decades, and henevercaved. He’d stand by his beliefs, however misguided, with everything he had. The only person who was ever able to convince him to see things differently was Talmage.
Unease crept under my skin. “Ozias, get him out of here.”
Darrien stood in a hurry. The slightest hint of a grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. Without so much as a single complaint, he allowed Ozias to shove him out of the library and into the main halls of Cruor. My breath froze in my lungs until the double doors leading to the outside world banged shut, and Darrien retreated from my home.
Kost broke away, muttering to himself as he stacked tomes together and arranged loose papers. I caught a glimpse of two titles from Gaige’s stack,A Brief History of WilheimandZane and the Fallen Leaders. Kost continued to close spare books with more force than necessary and knocked over an inkwell. He cursed at the mess before fishing a cloth of his breast pocket. Ink slowly spread toward the small piece of parchment, coloring the edge, and Kost snatched it up before it could soak through entirely.
“Something is wrong. Darrien had to know I’d never agree to raise assassins for him.” Running a tense hand through my hair, I replayed the conversation in my mind. Why hadn’t he fought back? What was I missing?
“Noc.”
I turned to find Kost still holding the stray parchment. Face pale, he looked at me over the top of his spectacles.
“What is it?”
“He knows who you are.” Kost upended my world with his words.
“Who?”
Slowly, he held out the ink-soaked parchment. I snatched it from his hands, tearing apart the cramped handwriting.Gaige.He’d pieced my past and present together. The ceiling and walls converged in an onslaught of shadows, and my stomach hardened to solid rock.
And Darrien had read every word of it.
My vision tunneled, and I crumpled the parchment into a ball. “Darrien saw this.”
Kost slumped into his chair. “Fuck.”
Fuck indeed.
Nine
The Frozen Prince
50 years ago
As I walked back to camp with Kostya by my side, evidence of our battle was everywhere. People hurried about while commanders barked orders to establish a night patrol. Others still carried armor and weapons to the temporary blacksmith for repair. More were heading toward a line of campfires where pigs roasted on spits, the scent of ale and smoke already thick in the air. A smile tugged at my lips. I’d have to introduce Kostya to Thaleus.
Turning to the assassin, I was about to offer him a place by the fire when a foot soldier from Thaleus’s unit rushed toward me. He came to a screeching halt and offered a haphazard bow before righting himself.
“Sir, Thaleus has been injured.”
All thoughts of ale and good conversation fled in a breath. “What happened?”
The man fumbled for words. “I…I don’t know. I didn’t see. He just collapsed.”
My world narrowed, and I barely tossed Kostya a glance before pushing past the soldier and sprinting toward the medical tent. The white canopy dominated my vision. “Where is he?” I burst through the open flaps, only to find rows and rows of bodies strewn on cots. Some were covered head to toe in sheets, a ghastly declaration of death. Others were propped up on pillows, bandaged and bleeding, with frantic attendants rushing from bed to bed. I snared the first one who hurried by and forced her to meet my gaze. “Where. Is. He?”
She paled but nodded toward the far end of the tent. I released her the moment I spotted Thaleus’s scraggly beard. He laid quietly between two cots. The man on his left screamed wordlessly as healers attempted to set his broken leg. The cot on his right was silent, the outline of a body decipherable beneath a sheet. I hated how close they put him to those who’d already passed through to the realm of the gods. Crossing the tent quickly, I came to his side and gripped his clammy hands in mine.
Weak eyes stared up at me. “Aleksander.”
I swallowed the rock in my throat. “What happened to that ale?”
A brittle laugh scraped through his chest. “Might have to wait on that.”
“Where are you hurt?” I scoured the length of his body, searching for wounds or bandages only to come up empty-handed. And yet, the ashen tint to his skin spoke volumes, and I tightened my hold on his fingers.
“Nowhere. You think some Rhyne soldiers would get the best of me?” His words were weak, and he paused for a moment to catch his breath before continuing. “I’ll be fine come morning. Just need some rest.”
