Page 63 of A Broken Blade


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Nikolai’s sleepy modesty faded away with a single yawn. He stretched his arms above his head so that the bed sheet fell to his hips. He peered at me with one eye and smirked before standing up completely naked.

I rolled my eyes. Nikolai chuckled and reached for his trousers that were draped along the chair.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” I tried for a bored tone, knowing it would annoy Nikolai most.

He popped his head out of his shirt with wide eyes. “Your Elvish is very good,” he said, switching to the King’s Tongue.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I grabbed Nikolai’s boots and tossed them at him.

Nikolai cocked his head curiously. “You were raised in the Order. I didn’t realize there was opportunity for learning Elvish there.”

“There was for me.” I thought about telling him exactly how I’d learned it, but I knew the truth would only upset him. It was too early in the day for that conversation.

“You all don’t need to speak the King’s Tongue for my benefit,” I added as Nikolai tied his boots.

“It’s not for your benefit,” he said. Even facing the floor, I could see his brows knitting together before retying his laces. “It’s Riven’s call. He thinks we’re less conspicuous if we speak in Mortal tongue. It’s become a habit.”

I nodded. Nikolai’s lips were pinched into a thin line. There was something more to the decision he wasn’t going to tell me. I let my curiosity go. We didn’t have time for it anyway.

“Let’s go.” I opened the door, waiting for Nikolai to catch up behind me. “Hood,” I reminded him before he left the room. Mine was already drawn over my face. The ends of my cloak trailed the tips of each step as we descended the staircase.

The innkeeper was there, waiting for us. Dark circles had appeared under her wrinkled eyes. She had not yet been to bed.

“They never arrived,” I said. It wasn’t a question, but the old woman nodded all the same.

“Have their rooms been emptied?” I asked.

“No, Mistress.” Her voice cracked. “Their spare clothes are still hanging in their room.”

My shoulders tensed. I shot a quick look to Nikolai, but he was already walking out the door.

“If they return, tell them they’re not allowed to leave this tavern until I speak with them,” I shouted behind me, following Nikolai to the stables.

We saddled the horses without saying a word, refusing the help of the stable boy who had been sleeping in one of the empty pens. I hurled my body onto my brown mare and galloped down the street trailing after Nikolai. I let my horse steer us through the city as my eyes darted along the rooftops, searching for a sign of the Shades.

Nothing.

My stomach lurched. There were only two reasons why they would not return to their post. They were dead. Or someone else was.

Nikolai led us to a small house on the south side of the city. Its roof was faded, and the front window was cracked like many of the other dwellings it was nestled between. Syrra appeared outside as soon as we approached.

“What happened?” My voice was harsh, but I didn’t care.

“There was a scout in the middle of the night,” she said, her arms tucked behind her back. She stole a glance at Nikolai who shook his head in exasperation. “It seems the rest of our group ran into some trouble on the road.”

“The Shades?” I asked, gripping the reins so tightly my knuckles ached.

Syrra nodded.

“Where is Riven?” I demanded.

“He went back with the scout. I was to wait here for you.” Syrra’s eyes darted to Nikolai again. I didn’t need to live centuries to understand the look between them.

“You mean you were told to keep me distracted.” I seethed through clenched teeth. My heart raced inside my chest; my vision clouded.

Syrra didn’t bother to protest. We both knew it was the truth.

“Where is Riven now?” I demanded again.

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