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I’m not entirely comfortable with it, but it’s necessary for peace. We have a pact. In exchange, they provide me with blood-offerings on a regular basis.
“Please. Sit.” I beckon toward the simple upholstered chair in front of my desk.
“Y-your Highness, my thanks.” Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Captain Kyron Kinnivar takes a seat.
I close the book and set it aside. “Report, Captain.” There’s nothing different about the way I address him. Nothing untoward about my attire.
Really, there isn’t much that’s different about me. It’s just that my skin is pale and my hair has turned from black to white; my eyes from brown to red. I drink blood rather than consume animal flesh. That’s all. I’m no threat to any of my people.
So why is Kyron still looking at me as if he’s seen a ghost? Heistrying to hide it behind a veneer of professionalism, though.
I appreciate that.
“The survivors arrived safely, Your Highness.” Kyron avoids my gaze. “It appears they’re from Ruen. The injured one is the eldest son of Baron Solisar. The brother is here too, along with a young squire called Garan. The woman is Lady Finley Solisar, his daughter. Er, you might already be aware, but she claims that they were traveling to Tyron because she’s yourbetrothed.”
“I see.” I rise to my feet and walk across to a small cabinet and select an aged Druthingan port. I pour some into a crystal glass and offer it to Kyron, placing it on the desk in front of him.
“Y-your Highness, I can’t possibly…”
A soft sigh escapes me. “Kyron, we’ve shared a drink on many occasions in the past. What’s changed now? Besides, it’s bloody Seinmas.”
For the first time, Kyron meets my eyes. Along with the unease, there’s a trace of guilt. “Thanks.” He takes a sip. Then he sets down the glass and reaches into his jacket. “We found the rest of their party further down the road. All dead. Devoured by lycan. Not too far away, there was a band of brigands,alsodead. Looks like the lads from Ruen put up a good fight. I’ve sent out a scouting team to track down any outlaws that might have gotten away.”
I lean against the desk and cross my arms, frowning. “A mess.”They shouldn’t have come here.“Make sure you clean it up without leaving a trace. Summon a priest. The dead are to be given their last rites and cremated. I don’t want news of this to leave the castle.”
What a mess, indeed.
And yet, for a moment, I tasted pure ecstasy in the form of a woman called Finley.
Who is now residing in my castle.
Who has been sent here by a minor lord calledBaron Solisar.
To marry me, apparently.
What kind of idiocy is this?
“Kinnivar, send a message to our people in the capital. I want to know who is responsible for this ridiculous situation.”
Kyron clears his throat. “Um, about that…”
“What is it?”
“We found a message scroll on one of the brigands.” He reaches into his coat and produces a small leather-bound cylinder. “I apologize. I had to cast my eyes upon it, to determine whether it was important or not. I haven’t looked at the innermost contents, but I’m guessing it’s probably connected to all this. I’ll make contact with one of our city informants; see if there’s anything major brewing in the capital.”
I take the cylinder. It’s carved from light wood and finished in a thin layer of grained blue leather. At each end is a severed leather tie. It would have been attached to a messenger hawk at some point.
I glance at Kyron. “You think they could have shot down the messenger bird? By chance, or intention?”
“The dead men bear no insignia, but they look like seasoned operators. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came into Tyron under the orders of someone influential.”
“Then the Ruen lads did very well to take them out.”
“Desperation is a powerful thing, Your Highness.”
“Indeed.” A shard of cold anger enters my heart. There were intruders on my land. If her brothers had been just a moment too late, those brigands could have intercepted Finley.
Someone orchestrated her journey here.
