And now it was gone.
Scraping rock and steel caught my ear as I grabbed the doorknob to escape the room. Releasing it, I turned to see the black blade Cierthine burning with a thousand runes, each colored a brilliant violet.
Wind burst through the room, sweeping around the sword and lifting it, as though an invisible hand grasped the hilt. It blinked, disappearing into a streak of lightning before impaling itself at my feet, cracking the tiled floors.
I gaped at Cierthine, who had refused to heed my orders to choose another.
It had now firmly,decidedly, chosen me.
"Well," I breathed. "Shit."
Chapter 12
Diar
I'd set out to kill a Solheart and ended up as one's captive instead.
Father would probably tell me I was lucky—standing in the presence of a Solheart was a rare privilege. Admittedly, I was starting to understand why so many people thought so.
The man who'd swept in to drag me home radiated light and heat, as though his very essence opposed the eternal night. His platinum blonde hair was twisted into a messy half-bun, its loose locks framing bronzed skin. Occasionally, he'd glance over at me, yellow eyes narrowing like a cat's.
I had caught mere glimpses of the Solhearts who'd come with their Emperor to Tsuyan five years ago. Mother had locked me in my room.
I would've died there, suffocated by the fire—if Akemi hadn't remembered.
Shifting, I leaned against a tree and twisted my wrists. The golden cords binding my hands refused to loosen, no matter how I writhed.
"I told you not to bother." The Solheart tossed a twig into the fire. "I tie an expert knot."
I glared at him across the campfire. He flicked up his black collar, as if to ward off my stare.
My captor had been kind enough, I supposed. He'd wrapped the wound on my wrist and never let his luminous threads brush it.
His partner had created the wound when he'd lobbed a radiant blade at the Aenir king, and in my books, that undid any grace my captor might have earned.
"Why is a Solheart charged with taking me home?" I asked.
"He's not," the Solheart corrected. "But I figured your father would appreciate it. A bit of good news to lessen the blow of the bad."
"Good news?" I echoed.
Father was going to murder me. In no world was my coming home in chainsgood news.
"I hear you had an interesting night." The Solheart stood and brushed dead leaves from his cloak. "You met the young prince, did you not?"
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"Quinn," he answered. "And no—it isn't short for anything. I don't know why everyone asks that."
Pulling up my knees, I rested my bound hands atop them. Solhearts were to be treated with respect: bowed heads and honeyed words. Should you speak to one as your equal, they would take great offense and punish you accordingly.
They had the right. Solathair, the departed god of the sun, had blessed them with his very blood.
But this man did not care that I looked him in the eye and spoke my mind. He'd even made the occasional attempt at a joke.
"So?" Quinn prodded. "What did you think? It's not every day one meets royalty."
What did I think? I blinked slowly, recalling my eventful night. Part of me still believed that Ferris had been working with the assassins. The other wondered why he'd been at a seedy tavern during Winter's Tide, drinking himself into a daze and starting brawls.
