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THE MEMORY THIEF
The academy was breathtaking inside.Walls of fine tapestries, books, and vellum. Paintings of the most beautiful locations in the four regions hung throughout the corridors. Incense of cloves and sage filled the corridors with an earthy spice that coated the tang of innards and bile outside.
Bard and Luca had given those of us who’d never stepped foot inside tours of the different rooms.
The pupils were quickly separated from the skydguards and Alvers. They’d be taken as prisoners back to the Falkyn Nest. Doubtless, they’d sob and wail and think their precious noble lives were over, but they would not starve with the skydguard left behind.
Hob and Inge had laughed as they snatched up gilded bands and elegant furs from the noble dormitories. Raum, Lynx, and Tova gathered purses and paper penge, adding it to the guilds’ coffers.
I followed Gunnar, Eryka, and Kase through the cooking rooms, gathering herbs and supplies we would have use for back at the Falkyn Nest. But when Gunnar opened a large pantry door, he leapt back, shouting in alarm. From the nook, two men burst out in a desperate attempt to flee.
“By the cuff!” Eryka shouted. Strange to hear strength in her voice. “By the cuff!”
Gunnar snapped into action and yanked back on the cowl of a broad man with a thick neck. The man fell backward at his feet.
Kase stepped in front of the other man, grinning when the whimpering fool lifted his face. “Ah, Lord Patrik. We wondered where you’d gone.”
“Kase.” Gunnar’s voice was unsteady.
I glanced at my nephew. He had his boot pinned to the throat of the man he’d taken down, but Gunnar’s body trembled.
“What is it?” Kase asked.
“Stor Magnus.” Gunnar didn’t look at us. He faced Eryka. “Get my mother and father please. Tell them our captor has been captured.”
* * *
A dry swallowscratched the back of my throat. One toll before the sun would begin to wake, Hagen, Herja, and Gunnar stood in the center of the yard where Stor Magnus was tethered to a wooden beam.
This man, this bleeding man, was the cause of their heartache. Since Gunnar had dragged him from the cooking rooms, I’d been informed of the tale.
House Magnus of the North had possession of the cursed princess for centuries. The wretched house had passed her down the generations like she was nothing but a possession. They’d tormented Herja, kept her apart from her children, using them as leverage for her good behavior.
He was the reason my brother was imprisoned.
Perhaps fate did have a touch of love for us. This was a bleeding gift to put the last of their divided family behind.
Hagen kicked Stor in the ribs. The man groaned and doubled over. “Lord Patrik is your kin? I knew there was some connection to the East. How else would my daj have known of your little game?”
“It was nothing . . . personal,” Stor grunted.
“Nothing?” Hagen used the full weight of his fist and cracked it over Stor’s jaw. “You kept me from my children. It was all personal, you bastard.”
Herja stepped next to Hagen, glaring at Stor. “You coward. Fighting in the North only to flee like a spineless dog to the East.” She crouched in front of the man, tilting her head to one side. “Have you not wondered at all what became of your wretched son?”
Stor’s jaw pulsed.
Herja chuckled. “I’ll tell you. My brother, the true king of Etta, split his skull in two without mercy. He died without honor.”
“Enough chatter. Take your revenge then, Valkyrie.” Stor glared at Herja. “Gods, I enjoyed you so much more when you were silent.”
Hagen stomped on Stor’s knee. The man roared his pain loud enough a few of the trapped pupils down the yard started to sob.
I gripped Kase’s hand. He raised my palm to his lips, kissing me there, but he never dropped his gaze from the show in the yard.
“My love,” Hagen looked to Herja. “No one suffered more than you. Do with him what you will.”
Herja smiled. There was nothing kind, nothing soft about the look on her face. “I give him to our son. Gunnar, you found him. You earned this moment to avenge our family.”
