Page 143 of Revealing Fate

Felíne could see how. The skullcage was uncomfortable, to be sure. But any shurii attempting to shift into second form while wearing it would be impaled by the iron barbs inside the collar. “What will they do with us?”

Kal was quiet for a moment before replying. “Lucien will try to force the Conclave’s decision regarding our punishment. The ambitious worm. He’s wanted me removed for some time, but never had the balls or the backing to do anything more than complain.” He paused. “With Saul taken ill and my recent interference in your trial, he’s got more justification than he’s ever had.”

Felíne slowly lowered herself to the ground and leaned back against the ladder. “And now with Rask’s involvement, he’s also got the muscle to back his position?”

Kal growled. “Fucking idiot.”

Felíne took that as affirmative. She also gathered that it meant Rask and Kal’s friendship had reached its expiration. “Why does Lucien hate you?”

“Because he’s a flaccid prick.”

“Yes, but why really?”

She could almost visualize Kal shrugging. “When I left Asteros and found Meress, Saul welcomed me. We worked closely together for years. I helped them institute many of the laws that govern their city, assisted in establishing trade that circumvented Asterosian detection, and personally trained their militia. Lucien didn’t like how involved I was. Some runaway brat with a dubious pedigree shouldn’t have held so much sway.”

“They don’t know who you are?” she asked, surprised.

“Everyone knows who Magnus and Meridia Albright were,” Kal said, guessing at the direction of her thoughts. “But my mother didn’t publicly take the Kaine name, and my father’s family didn’t keep close records. He was the Lord of Brightsea after my grandfather died, but otherwise, people knew him as the Aegis. He was a private man. Besides, Kaine is not an uncommon surname.” He fell quiet, and Felíne heard the sound of iron clinking before he continued. “Saul knows. He knew the moment he caught me sneaking into the forge years ago to make silverskin. He’s helped keep my production of it a secret and set up a private foundry for me to work outside Meress.”

Felíne released a breath, the trembling finally subsiding. So, the long-lost heir of Brightsea Castle spent his days crafting rare pieces of armor deep within the rebel woods and then brokering trade deals to distribute his productions across the kingdom. All under Asteros’s pert nose. She almost laughed. Felíne had to hand it to him. Kal was nothing if not bold. “Does Rask know? About the silverskin? About who you are?”

Silence. Then, “He knows who I am. He doesn’t know I’m the one making it. He thinks I’ve got contact with an artisan from Brightsea.”

Good. He wouldn’t be able to sell that information to Lucien, at least. Felíne shifted her weight onto her right butt cheek, her left having gone numb. “So, Lucien Cross wants you gone, me punished, and Saul dead. Rask wants revenge. The Carrow brothers were bait. Lucien knew you’d kill them. We walked right into a damned trap.”

“Why would you think Lucien wants Saul dead?” Kal asked. She had to strain to hear him.

“Because,” Felíne said, remembering the dark phlegm produced by Saul’s horrid cough, his pallid features, and the hollow rings beneath his eyes. “He’s been poisoned.”

Kal took a moment to respond. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” she replied. The signs Saul displayed were consistent with morticana ingestion. It was a poor choice for a poison on account of its bitterness. Any shurii with half an inkling would recognize the taste and avoid consumption. But given in small doses over consecutive days? The taste could be easily masked, and the morticana would linger in the system, compounding over time to mimic a mysterious illness. Felíne explained as much to Kal.

He swore colorfully. “If we accuse Lucien, he’ll deny it.”

Felíne scoffed. “He can try,” she said with an air of superiority. “I can prove it was him.”

“Please, Felíne, don’t make me ask,” Kal replied, exasperated.

She smiled despite Kal’s thinning patience. Her name from his lips, even spoken with a note of irritation, warmed her. “Morticana is notoriously difficult to handle in its raw form,” she explained. “It’s terribly irritating to the skin, even while wearing gloves. The oil it produces causes nasty blisters. Mender Alcuin and I treated children who’d unwittingly stepped through a patch growing near a neighbor’s garden. The lesions took weeks to heal.”

“Lucien had blisters on his wrist.”

Felíne smiled wider. “Yes. He did.”

“I’ll be damned,” Kal said. She could hear the awe in his voice. “I could kiss you.”

“I’ll let you do more than that,” Felíne remarked, wrinkling her nose at the dank smell, “if you can get me out of this horrid hole.”

“My dear Kitty,” Kal teased, “are you playing the damsel?”

“Yes,” she complained. “I am.” And she harbored no remorse.

Kal chuckled, the warmth of his amusement easing some of her lingering anxiety. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I didn’t have Adder tailing us for nothing. He’ll be along shortly.”

Kal wasn’t wrong. Not five minutes later, Felíne heard the grinding of an old door swinging on rusted hinges. Her heart leapt.

“Oi!” Adder’s voice barked. “Mind the family jewels!”