“How didyou?”
“Five of us managed to escape with a rowboat,” she tells me stiffly. “We reached Lodengras two full weeks after your trial ended.”
She says it like an accusation: how could I have reached the shore so long before she did?
“If I really were awitch,” I say, practically spitting the word, “why thehellwould their king try so hard to kill me?”
And why did he let Harfor live? Was the cut from my dagger so bad he had to retreat?
“I’ve been asking myself that a lot.” Harfor’s hand finds my chin, her grip a little too tight and yet comfortably familiar all the same. She’s so close that I can smell the expensive clove and ginger perfume she’s always favored. Harfor tilts my face, inspecting the scars on the right side of my head. I fight the urge to tilt my face away from her. The scars are part of me. They’re a reminder of everything I’ve lost, and everyone I failed.
Even if Harfor was never dead at all.
She whistles softly, and lets go.
“Two years. You couldn’t write?” I whisper, blinking hard.
“To a witch who knows my deepest secrets? No. What could I possibly have had to say?”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. Harfor isn’t acting like my titles have been restored.
“When I saw the ship, I assumed the War-Father had finally convinced the council, and my exile...” My heart hurts so much I can barely stand it. From the corner of my eye the Governor shifts, folding his arms as he stares at us.
“He could find no way to prove your innocence without testing your loyalty first.”
“I’m loyal,” I beg Harfor as a chill slithers through me. In the distance a sea-titan caws. “It wasn’t my fault. I’m more loyal than anybody else on this rock.”
“Good. He’s giving you a chance to prove it.”
I should have known going home wouldn’t be as easy as just walking up the gangplank. My face burns as I realize what a fool I’ve been. But if the War-Father has a test, all the better. I’ll convince everyone who doubts me. Including Harfor.
“How? Should I go up to see him?” My eyes flick unintentionally back to the gangplank, like the War-Father himself is about to appear there in his gold-washed, crystal-laced armor.
“Here?” Harfor raises an eyebrow like she’s surprised I’d even imagine our War-Father wasting his time at the Bluff. “No, he’s moved ships. And he’s busy plotting an assault against the Gray Tower.”
For a moment I’m speechless. I don’t know what surprises me most: that he’s left Rancor, the most powerful of our Hellions, or that he didn’t bother to come get me himself. But with a reason like this… it’s selfish of me to expect any of his time. I ignore the way my stomach twists.
The Gray Tower—whether or not it’s even a tower—is what they call the heart of the witch-lands. The hatchery for the dragons that the witches’ leaders tie their souls to in unholy bonds.
“Wefoundit?”
The Governor clears his throat like he’s about to say something.
“We found it,” Harfor says coolly. “I'm on my way to convince the council to release more funds, consecrate more Enchanted, so we can attack with our full power and shatter those sinners against the sea-rocks.”
The mention of the Enchanted makes me as uneasy as ever. My lips twist down and Harfor’s eyes sharpen.
“Problem for you?” she asks quietly.
“Of course not,” I say. She’s read my discomfort wrong. I want the witches gone, just like she does. “What does the War-Father want me to do?”
The Governor clears his throat again and takes a step forward. I grit my teeth.
“Welcome to the Bluff, lady knight. I’ve prepared a feast for you and yours…” he begins, like he can’t wait another moment before jamming himself into our conversation.
Harfor’s eyes flick to the man for a moment, carelessly. Then she turns back to me like he never spoke at all. Knights are their own hierarchy, the left hand of the Exalted War-Father. I might be on a leash, but Harfor owes the Bluff's ruler nothing.
“We have a prisoner,” Harfor tells me, as the Governor stares at her back, his mouth gaping at the fact she ignored him. “They’re desperate to get him back. And the War-Father wantsyouto keep an eye on him.”
