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She nodded, her face wan. “They were Rogues.”

I stared at her with confusion.

“We call the people who attacked us Rogues. They’re typically born magic-less, or had magic at one point and lost it. If One deems you unworthy, you can have your power revoked. It typically happens to abusers, murderers, you know . . . the worst of the worst. They resent One and those who wield magic because of their inability to use it. We’ve been trying to disband their organization for years.”

Human nature was flawed on this Earth, too. Violence always a game of power.

“It’s none of my business,” Sigrid continued, “but you should talk to Leo. He only wanted to keep you safe.”

I adjusted Holly’s saddle. “That still didn’t give him the right to speak to me how he did.”

“I agree.” Sigrid ran her hand down Drag’s charcoal mane, soothing him. “But Leo just lost a friend. And . . .” She hesitated, checking behind her to make sure we were alone. “Rogues murdered his parents.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LEO

That was way too close of a fucking call.

I should’ve heard the Rogues sooner than I had, since noises in the night traveled faster to me.

But I’d been distracted, pressed up against Bryn. The perfume of her hair holding me in a deep sleep.

It wasn’t until the warmth of her body left me that I’d sensed something was wrong.

It’s been years since Rogues dared to travel this close to Castle Esme. Their fear of the Night King’s retribution, my retribution, for their heinous crimes against the Crown kept them away.

But something has changed. Their latest act of boldness proof of that.

Since my parents’ deaths, I’ve spent years attempting to rid their filth from my world. They were a cancer to our society; disrupters of peace for the people. Seemingly alive for only one purpose: to kill magic-wielders. Their hate for being exiled from their communities running like poison through their veins, fueling them.

When I’d seen Simon’s body on the ground, I had wanted to slice through all of them hiding in the wood line. One clean slash of magic, separating heads from bodies, tree trunks from roots. Or gut them alive like the first two Rogues in the woods that had stalked Bryn as she’d stood by the fire. My daggers still buried in their intestines.

But I hadn’t wanted Bryn to see me like that, wild and barely in control. Not after she’d trusted me to hold her through the night.

I hadn’t wanted her to fear me.

So, with every ounce of self-control I’d been able to conjure, I’d blocked their attacks, allowing my team to do the rest.

Bryn had demonstrated she was just as skilled in the art of combat as past-life Bryn, maintaining her composure during the attack, her military training exceptional.

But still, I’d been horrified to watch her risk her well-being, regardless of her sharp instincts. To think of her with a hole through her chest unsettled me to the point of anger, and I had taken out my masked fear on her.

I dared a look out of the corner of my eye to see Bryn riding Holly next to me, her eyes trained on the dirt road ahead of us, her silence heavy around me.

She had avoided me while we’d loaded the horses and said our goodbyes to Sigrid and Cal, my friends tasked with taking the Rogue I’d captured and kept alive to the next guard station for questioning. The Rogues shouldn’t have had access to the Mag-Guns they’d possessed, as they were the Crown’s classified weapons provided by Four, the technology far beyond anything you would typically find on One. For Rogues to have access to such equipment meant danger and the risk of secrets being exposed. So, the Rogue in our custody would have to be interrogated thoroughly.

I wanted to interrogate the criminal myself, use whatever means necessary to get the asshole to give up his supplier. But I was the king. I couldn’t go around torturing and executing people. There was a system in place to determine innocence or guilt. Due process. So I’d left the traitor in Sigrid’s care instead.

My current responsibilities were getting Bryn back to the castle safely, while somehow apologizing for my outburst, along with delivering Simon’s body back to his family.

I glanced over my shoulder to where his horse followed behind Drag; Simon draped over its back, cloaked out of respect.

The pain of knowing I’d never hear him argue with Cal again cut me deep. Enough so I wanted to cry, or go back and intercept Sigrid and Cal so I could strangle the Rogue while I crushed his windpipe, leaving his corpse behind in the middle of the road for the vultures.

I glanced at Bryn again to try and calm myself, to get a grip on all the anger I felt.

I just wanted her to look at me, her eyes the answer to quieting the oiliness of the magic sliding along my bones.