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Gavyn removed a small vial from a pouch on his belt. The glass was wrapped in thin twine and capped with a battered cork.
“What is that?”
“A toxin that rots the lungs when breathed too deeply. Works in moments.”
“You simply carry poison around?”
He clicked his tongue. “You didn’t think Erik had never taken advantage of my ability, did you? I work in secrets, and folk never know I’m near. I’ve developed a habit of making certain those who plotted against my king did not greet the sunrise.”
I ought to be horrified that Gavyn killed without a hint of remorse. Horror did not fill my chest. Instead it burned in gratitude, in a kinship with the bone lord. It put the torment of my soul at ease, knowing Erik had never truly been alone as a young king. Even if it had felt that way at times.
And he wasn’t alone now.
From the washroom, Gavyn scooped a handful of frigid water from a pail. With care, he let the droplets slide down the bedchamber door, then returned with more, splashing it along the floorboards until a trickle slid beneath the crack in the door to the other side.
Gavyn made quick work of delivering a knife and a second dagger from his belt.
“Is that enough water?”
“It’s plenty.” He rolled his shoulders back, letting out a long breath of air. “I’ll be back shortly. If I’m not, rise up and be their villain, Livia.”
I didn’t have time to say another word before Gavyn’s skin peeled away in glistening droplets. He faded into the puddle at the door. I spun the small knife Gavyn had left in one hand and clutched his dagger in the other.
It took moments, no more than a few breaths, before grunts, curses, and something heavy—like a body—collided with the door. Sick cracks drew out vivid images of snapping necks. Coughs, wet and thick, lent me to think Gavyn was shoving doses of his poison down the throats of the men guarding the door.
Then, silence.
Another breath, and the latch jostled. I pointed Gavyn’s dagger blade down. The knife, I pointed out from my chest.
The door opened, and Gavyn, blood splattered on his chin down to his hands, stood in the doorway, breaths heavy. The burn of sick boiled from my belly when he dropped a severed hand in a wet slap on the floorboards.
“All clear . . . My Queen.” Blood stained his teeth, but his eyes were alight with a dark thrill.
Behind the bone lord, four bodies were crumbled in gory heaps.
One man had veins, as dark as the bark on trees, splitting up his throat. Another looked much the same, but the foam spilling over his lips was tinged in pink. The two other guards died in pieces—one had swallowed a matching dagger Gavyn had left me, the amethyst hilt jutted out between his lips. The final guard, his horribly lovely features were frozen in a silent scream, and one arm ended in a bloody stump.
“Gods.” I took Gavyn’s blood-stained palm as he helped me step over one of the guards. “Did you need to cut off his hand?”
“Of course not.” Gavyn winked. “Better run, Livia. There were five guards.”’
“What!” Blood drained from my cheeks. “And you didn’t think to tell me someone was running off to warn Larsson?”
“Trust the king’s seeker, Livia. I’m well-versed in assassination.”
“Oh? And how is your record of escaping an elven isle that fades into the sea?”
The bastard tilted his head side to side, as if mulling over the question in earnest. “Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
Gavyn clung to my palm, racing us down the darkcorridor toward a stone archway without a second glance at the brutality left in the doorway of the bedchamber.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE SONGBIRD
Voices rumbledaround the corner like a slow flow of the tide coming to swallow me up. My heart stuck to the back of my throat, pulsing and throbbing with every step down the corridor.
“Here.” Gavyn shoved my shoulder, sliding us chest to chest, into a tight alcove ten paces from a coiled staircase.
