Alistair had done the same: hurt her, to wound me.
What had become of him? Alistair had been kind when we were kids—fueled by righteous rage.
When the Sun Chasers had formed, Alistair had grown his ambitions from minor heists to toppling nobles.
All the Lecovair would die, he promised. We'd drag them from their thrones.
One had met his end by my blade. But no one remembered the assassin from the dark, the man I'd once been.
Maybe Alistair had been right. The Lecovair all deserved death—and they could meet it tonight.
Shivers ran up my arm. Golden veins streamed from the prosthetic and surged up to my shoulder. Whispers caressed the back of my mind.
Whispers from my past.
Slit their necks, and crown yourself in their blood.
Chapter 58
Mare
Ididn’t know why I fled to Brighid's chambers. I could have found Liam or quietly returned to the ballroom. My feet sought this place out, instead.
Teela had seen my distraught face and ushered me inside. She'd returned a few minutes later with a warm pot of tea and given me a comforting pat on the shoulder.
At least Brighid had her, if nobody else.
I sat on the edge of the canopied bed, staring out the window into the night. The door creaked open behind me and tapped closed.
"Strange," Brighid said. She sounded tired. "You have your own chambers, as I recall. Though." Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked around the bed. "You did leave before anyone could show you to them."
"I'm sorry." I lifted my head. “I?—”
Brighid braced a hand on the bedpost. "You were caught enjoying some alone time with Reese, I presume?"
"How did you know?"
"Oh, please. He spent the entire ride up here staring longingly at you. That man is an open book." She lifted her skirts and sat beside me.
I ran a hand across my face. "I'm an idiot."
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far." She twisted to look behind as the door flew open.
Bláth blustered in, carrying two bottles of whiskey under her arm. "Look what I got." She held them up triumphantly. "I had a feeling we'd all need to drink tonight."
Dancing across the room, she pulled a cork out with her mouth and handed me the other bottle. Brighid made a sound of disgust. "Where are the glasses?"
"Don't need 'em." Bláth took a long swig from her bottle.
Appearances mattered to me, but considering I'd already ruined my image tonight, I didn't much care. Pulling the cork out, I drank heavily, grateful for the burning running down my throat.
Bláth offered Brighid her bottle. "Want some?"
"Oh, why not?" Brighid snatched the whiskey and poured it down her throat. "This fort," she said, wiping her mouth. "Has centuries of history written into its walls."
Bláth groaned. "You're so boring, Brighid."
"History isnotboring. And I intend to spend my last night in good company, talking about something I enjoy."
