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“Tell me,” I roared, utter grief stabbing through the fury boiling my blood. “Tell me who let him go!”
Finally, one of them stepped forward and cleared her throat. I heard someone whisper, “Sanya, no,” but she lifted her chin and stared me in the eyes. Her wide shoulders were set back, chin tipped up, with a calm, confident expression on her face.
“Luad, as Lonan’s friend—”
“His friend?” I snarled, hands clenching into fists. “Who the fuck are you?”
Why didn’t I know he’d made friends with one of the guards? Why had he hidden it from me?
“Sanya,” she said, her voice wavering just a little before she steadied it. “Lonan was unhappy here, my king. He was… It wasn’t natural for him to be here. He needed to—”
“You don’t know anything,” I shouted, making her mouth snap shut into a grim line. “You think because you spoke to him a few times you know him better than I do?”
“No, but I know he tried to shield you from the worst of it,” she said. “I know he didn’t feel like he could speak to you about it—”
“You fucking dare tell me how he felt about me?” I started striding towards her, jolting to a stop only when a strong hand clamped on my shoulder.
“Calm yourself, Ash.” Nua’s voice was firm, its usual softness gone.
I shook off his grip. “You think you can judge me? Judge my relationship with Lonan as if you have any fucking idea what you’re talking about?”
“I do have an idea,” she said flatly. “I know how much he has been struggling. I know how lonely he has felt. I know that he tried to talk to you about it, and you—”
“Shut up,” I roared, my branch fingers twitching once again for my bow. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to drive an arrow through her eye, through her teeth and down her throat, just to get her to stop talking.
She didn’t. Instead, she lifted her chin again and stared me dead in the eyes. “I’m the one who helped him leave, Luad.”
My breaths were snarling out of me like a raging bull as I stared at her, murderous rage twisting my features. She gazed back calmly, but her throat bobbed with a nervous swallow.
My hand settled on the hilt of my old dagger tucked into my belt as I approached her. But, as if they had a mind of their own, my fingers uncurled from it a second later. I gripped it again and the same thing happened.
It wasn’t until I felt a burn beneath my shirt—one of the oaths etched into my skin—that I realised why.
The guard’s face was tight with apprehension when I got right in it, but she didn’t step back or look away. Her green eyes sparked with defiance, which filled me with even more rage.
“You’re very, very lucky I made that vow when I first became king,” I seethed, my fingers still flexing by my side, my own body betraying me by not allowing me to whip out my dagger and drive it into her eye.
She swallowed again, the only hint of her nerves, but her voice was steady when she said, “I don’t doubt it, Oath Maker.”
“Take her to the dungeon.” I raised my voice so the other guards could hear, and didn’t wait to watch them obey.
“Ash,” Nua gasped, but I was already marching for the front doors. Most of the guards stumbled back, then scattered, but two hurried forward to heave the doors open for me.
My head was pounding. Throbbing. The bright sunlight pierced my eyes, but I didn’t let it slow me down. The force of my fury felt like a volcano on the brink of erupting. I could hardly think. I couldn’t focus.
I couldn’t believe it had been only yesterday when I’d been lounging under a tree with Lonan in the sun, talking quietly together, eating and drinking, dozing with my head on his chest. And now he was gone.
Part of me didn’t believe it. He wouldn’t have done that. No matter how bad our argument had been, he wouldn’t have just left me without saying anything else. Without at least saying goodbye.
He wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t.
“Ash, stop,” I heard Nua cry as he followed me. “What are you planning to do?”
“He won’t have just left.” I could barely hear my own voice over the pounding in my head. “He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Something might have happened to him. Maybe that guard hurt him and is hiding it.”
“I know it hurts to think about, but I really don’t—”
“We had a fight.” My voice broke. “He w-was so angry with me. Maybe he left in a—Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly.”
