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“Oh, we already know that, Your Highness.”
“Summon the other guards. They will swear fealty to me in the same manner. Any that aren’t willing are free to leave.”
“Don’t you worry, we won’t have none of that.”
“Good. After that, you can go find an embalmer. They’re to prepare the body and remain here until his death is made public.”
“As you command, Your Highness.”
“And, Tarron…”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Now that you’re one ofmyElite Guards, there’s no need for formalities. You can call me Corvan, just like you used to.”
At last, Tarron’s serious mask slips. A grin breaks through, gleaming white against his russet beard. “It’s gonna take a while to get used to all the changes around here, but I can’t say I’m complaining.”
56
FINLEY
At last, it’s time to leave for the Duchy of Talavarra.
Corvan has handled everything. Somehow, he’s convinced the Elite Guard swear fealty to him, and he’s summoned an embalmer to attend to the emperor’s body. I don’t know if he’ll make good on his threat of sticking his father’s head on a pike above the castle walls, but I’m not going to try and convince him otherwise.
Valdon Duthriss was a bastard through and through.
All that’s left is for us to find my mother—and Corvan’s half-brother, who we suspect might be responsible for the undead army that attacked Tyron Castle.
Corvan’s back now. I hear his footsteps ringing on the marble floors. Instinctively, I know it’s him. His strides are swift and inhumanly perfect. He’s probably doing it on purpose so as not to sneak up on me. When he wants to, he can be terrifyingly stealthy.
I put down the book that I’ve been thumbing through—an old, leather-bound tome that smells of age and ancient paper. It’s a strangely comforting scent.
There’s a simple title printed on the spine, in faded gilt lettering:Dryadae.
The book is written in archaic Rahavan. The words are embellished; the phrasing quaint.
But the meaning remains the same.
Long before the Duchies of Rahava were united by Emperor Lyzar Duthriss, people used to study magic as an art. They wrote books such as this one—a scientific study on dryads.
I look up from where I’m sitting—in an old, leather-upholstered armchair that reminds me of the one in Corvan’s chambers.
How many nights did Valdon Duthriss spend here, learning ancient secrets that helped him cling to power for so long?
It feels so surreal; thatInow have unrestricted access to some of the most valuable texts in the empire.
As for what I’ve been able to discover in such a short amount of time…
“Anything interesting?” Corvan murmurs, sidling up beside me, placing his hand on the back of my neck. He isn’t wearing his gloves anymore, and his hand is warm and pleasantly rough.
His touch sends a little shiver down my spine. I can hardly believe he feels this good to me; this familiar, as if we’ve known one another for years.
The book lies open on my lap, at the part I found most interesting of all. I look up at Corvan.
He’s smiling.
In the midst of all this darkness, he’s smiling, and it’s a true smile, devoid of cynicism or bitterness.
