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“She is my life.”
Auberon leaned in close, his smile turning cold and wicked. “Then you know how I feel about Riona.”
He planted a hand in the center of the man’s chest and shoved him, hard. The bastard toppled over the edge of the battlements and screamed as he plummeted, his arms and legs pinwheeling. Auberon watched him fall, not even flinching at the wetcrunchhis body made when it landed in a broken heap at the base of the wall. Elsewhere on the battlements, someone cried out in alarm. Running footsteps thundered against the walkway.
Auberon turned and descended the stairs quickly, being careful to avoid the intermittent patches of moonlight as he started in the direction of the Crow and Crown tavern. He vaguely recalled seeing the tavern’s sign on one of his treks through the city.Tonight, this all ends,he thought, his fingers curling around the grip of his emerald-hilted dagger.
As he walked, he looked up at the castle, glowing bright and proud from its perch over the city. Riona was there. Bleeding.Dying. Auberon yearned to go to her, but he couldn’t yet. He had asked her to meet him in the theater. This was his fault, and he needed to make it right.
That, and he couldn’t bear the thought of returning to the castle and finding out that Riona had succumbed to her wound. As long as he stayed away, he could let himself believe that Valerian had saved her life.
Distantly, he could hear the watchmen atop the wall shouting orders to one another. Auberon didn’t regret killing the coward. He was sorry for taking a girl’s father from her, but the man had sealed his fate the moment he set foot in that theater. If Auberon had been the only target of the attack, he might have let the man walk away after revealing Farquar’s involvement. He had known how dangerous it would be to enter the Rivosi court as an Erdurian prince. He had accepted the risk.
Riona was different. She was everything he was not: good, honest, thoughtful, selfless… At that first banquet, they had been perfect strangers, branded enemies by the blood running through their veins. She’d had every reason to hate him. And despite that, she had sat with him as the poison took hold of his lungs. While everyone else had panicked, recoiling in horror and fear, she had held his hand and promised that he would survive.
Soon, she would be betrothed to another man. Auberon could live with that. He could live with watching her marry Drystan, with pretending his eyes didn’t automatically seek her out every time he entered a room, with trying to forget the taste of her lips against his.
He could endure that torture for the rest of his life, because it would mean she was alive.
ChapterSixty-Two
The Liar
The Crow and Crown tavern was a simple building of drab gray stone. Its shutters were closed, slivers of light leaking through the narrow gaps in the slats, and the chains suspending its wooden sign squealed as it swayed in the breeze. Auberon pulled his overcoat tighter around himself as he approached the building, and the movement sent another slender river of blood down his arm. He would have to tend to the gash in his bicep soon.
After making certain that the overcoat covered every sign of his wounds, he pulled the tavern’s door open. Immediately, the scent of cheap ale washed over him. It was late, but the tavern was full of drunken patrons, and a small band of musicians had set themselves up in the corner of the main room. The bar ran parallel to the wall to his right, and a door just behind it was labeledDo Not Enter. He edged around a group of rowdy young men and started toward it.
A woman stood behind the bar, cleaning a pool of spilled wine with an old, stained rag. When she noticed where Auberon was headed, she tossed the sodden fabric aside and stepped into his path. “You can’t go in there, sir.”
He put on a rough Rivosi accent and said in a low voice, “I need to speak with Vick. It’s about a job he sent some men to complete tonight—a job on behalf of Lord Farquar. Something’s gone wrong, and it’ll be all our heads if the lord learns of it before Vick does.”
She appraised him warily. He didn’t know how well she was acquainted with the sell-swords who went to Vick for work, but with his Rivosi accent, muscular build, and the weapons sheathed at his hip, he could easily pass for one of them. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded and returned to the bar. Auberon murmured his thanks and slipped through the door. It led to a short hallway with two doors, lit with a lantern hanging from the low ceiling. Auberon ducked under it and pressed his ear to the door on his right. Quiet snoring rumbled from within.
Vick.
He pushed the door open, the hinges squealing, and the snoring broke off abruptly. The room was dark, and in the slivers of moonlight bleeding in through the shutters, he could just make out a figure pushing itself upright in the bed.
“Who’s ’ere? Who let you in?” a deep, groggy voice called.
Auberon said nothing as he closed and locked the door. A match flared to life, and he turned back just as the man lit the lantern on the bedside table, filling the room with weak, flickering light. He was middle-aged, with a square, stern face and receding black hair. He scowled. “Who’re you?”
“I’ll give you a hint.” Auberon leaned against the door and crossed his arms. “You sent your men to kill Lady Riona and me tonight.”
Realization and fear flashed across Vick’s face. For a few heartbeats, he didn’t seem to breathe.
Then he lunged for the bedside table and yanked open the drawer, fumbling for something within. Auberon crossed the room in a few quick strides and slammed the drawer shut with one foot, crushing the bones in Vick’s hand.
“Now, now, let’s not be hasty,” he drawled as the man bit off a cry of pain. “I only want to discuss a business proposal with you. We can manage that, can’t we?”
Vick nodded, looking like he might be sick. Auberon smiled and lowered his foot, then reached into the drawer and snatched the dagger concealed within. He tossed it onto the desk on the far wall, well out of the man’s reach. Vick withdrew his hand and cradled it to his chest. A few of his fingers were bent at ghastly angles.
“As you can see, your men’s attempt to kill us failed,” Auberon began, “which means that Lord Farquar isn’t going to be very happy with you. It won’t be long before news of the attack spreads, and Farquar is going to make certain that someone else takes the fall for it.”
Vick’s throat bobbed. “He wouldn’t dare. I have the contract he signed. I’ll reveal it to the king.”
“You think a piece of paper will save you? He just ordered the assassinations of an Erdurian prince and the niece of the king. You’ll be lucky to see the dawn. Fortunately,” Auberon said, leaning in close, “I can protect you.”
“Why would you do that?”
