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We linger in our shared horror for a minute before Casimir ventures another question, his voice gentle. “How did you persuade them to trust you over Benedikt?”
More haltingly, I explain about the trial I suggested, the way the scourge sorcerers put it to us, and Kosmel’s divine assistance. I tense up when I get into the part where I used my magic—used it to wound a man these three recently considered a friend—but Stavros only reacts with a rough exhalation when I mention the arrow that wounded me.
“They healed it,” I say before he can reach for me again. “Like they did my finger.”
What I can see of Alek’s bronze-brown face has grayed beneath his mask. “Are you sure they completely believed you? If they wanted to eliminate any risk of betrayal, they could have gotten rid of both of you.”
And they still could, he’s obviously thinking.
I hug myself. “As far as I could tell, they were convinced. I’m sure they’ll be watching me even more closely for the next few days, though.”
Stavros starts to pace. “You can’t go back. This is too much. They had you chained in a fucking cave.”
I grimace. “If I don’t go back, they’ll definitely want me dead.”
“I never should have let you start off on this reckless path to begin with.”
My hands drop to my hips. “You didn’tletme do anything. I made my own decisions. And even with everything that’s happened, this is still our best chance at taking the scourge sorcerers down.”
Which Stavros well knows, because he can’t even argue that point, only hiss through his teeth in frustration.
He stops, raking his hand through his ruddy hair. “I have to report to the king. Benedikt was part of his family, if not a totally legitimate part.”
Casimir steps forward and touches my arm. “You do that. Alek and I can look after Ivy. I’m sure she could use some peace after what she’s been through.”
He pauses. “You have the cord she normally uses, don’t you? Could you give that to me before you leave? We should be doubly careful about any arrangements we make from now on.”
I’m not sure what the courtesan is thinking, so I doubt Stavros is either, but he digs into the pouch on his belt and hands over my cord without argument. He moves toward his own portal ring but turns toward me at the last second.
He lifts his hand to touch my cheek. “They are going to pay for this. All of it. I can’t wait until that day.”
Twenty-Eight
Casimir
I’ve spent many hours in the former General Stavros’s presence. I noted the spark of interest that lit in his eyes when Julita turned on her charm. A couple of times, I observed him from afar with one of my carnal arts professors on his arm—a woman of unarguable beauty and sensuality.
In the course of our association, I’ve witnessed him pleased and angry, resolved and disheartened.
But I’ve never before seen the intensity that’s come over him while he speaks to Ivy right now.
There’s immense passion smoldering in his eyes as he gazes down at her, and I can tell with every emphatic word and gesture that the emotion goes much deeper than mere attraction.
From the moment his temper erupted at the sight of her with me after our interlude in the archives, I’ve suspected he has some kind of interest in her. Now… Now it’s obvious and potent enough to stir up my own emotions: approval, compassion, and a dollop of jealousy I don’t have any right to feel.
It’s about time he removed his head from his ass when it comes to her. About time he started treating her like the awe-inspiring woman she is.
After what she’s just been through, the betrayal she’s just faced, she deserves nothing more than full commitment from the rest of us in every way we can offer it.
And I’m starting to think all three of uscanoffer our devotion in every conceivable way.
I’d encourage Stavros to explore all those ways right this moment, but I can’t deny the urgency of alerting the king to the traitor within his own family, no matter what dire fate Benedikt may already have met. Who knows if the scourge sorcerers will find some final way to use the royal bastard before they’re through with him?
The shock lingers like a knot in my gut. I was wrong about Benedikt. He put on such a carefree front during our short meetings that I got into the habit of not checking in on his emotional state that closely.
How long has a deeper resentment been simmering inside him without us even realizing—bitter enough that the scourge sorcerers were able to draw him in?
We may never know. Gods help us, I wish I’d paid more attention while I could.
