He leaned heavily on me, and when we got to his room he fell against the door. “I don’t know what—”
“It’s all right, Jase. We’re almost there.” I opened the door, and he staggered inside. I eased his fall as he crumpled to the floor. I knelt down beside him and saw his eyes briefly trying to focus on me. And then they closed.
“Jase,” I whispered. He didn’t stir.
I raked his hair back and stared at him, touched the fading cut on his cheekbone, the bruise I put on his jaw yesterday. I felt his warm skin beneath my fingertips and the ache in my chest for all the tomorrows he stole, the ones he made me believe could be ours. You lied to me, Jase. You’ve lied to me over and over again. You’ve conspired with fugitives against all the kingdoms. But even as I stirred the embers of my anger, other treasonous feelings surfaced, feelings that I loathed but couldn’t shake. A poison I couldn’t flush out. My throat clamped tight.
I stood, looking down at him one last time before I left. “Damn you, Jase Ballenger,” I whispered. “Le pavi ena.”
And I’m afraid I will forever.
* * *
We crept through the Darkcottage tunnel. Synové, Natiya, and Eben had arrows drawn, guarding us before and behind. We all wore bandoliers studded with throwing knives—small, silent, and deadly—a last resort. We wanted our game alive. Long swords were too risky because of the noise they could make, but Wren wore her ziethes and the rest of us had long daggers on our belts. I carried a smaller one in my hand and a pouch of birchwings hung from my hip. The rest of our gear was stowed on the hay wagon. Natiya carried a timepiece and signaled us each time ten minutes had passed. Since we left the dining room, twenty minutes were already gone.
I eased the door at the end of the tunnel open a crack. When I saw it was clear, I slipped out onto the terrace and hid behind a pillar. I paused, taking in every shadow, sound, and movement. One by one, I signaled the others out when I was sure it was safe, pointing to the position each should take.
The terraces of the long house were cloaked in darkness, but soft light streamed from a few of the rooms. Because of the summer heat, most of the doors were open, trying to catch a breeze. I made my way across the next section of terrace. When it was clear, I again signaled the rest to follow. I turned my head, listening, and heard the faint rumble of voices. I pointed to the room it was coming from and signaled the rest to wait while I got closer to see how many were there. The room was brightly lit with candles. Sarva and the captain were bent over a table playing some sort of game. Kardos, Bahr, and one of the scholars were lounging in overstuffed chairs around a cold hearth, drinking and throwing pits into the gray ashes as they ate olives, laughing and competing to hit some target. None of them were armed. One of the scholars, the younger one, was missing. I lifted my fingers to the others. Five. I went in search of the other one, looking into one room and then the next. I found him two rooms down, hunched at a desk, studying papers and writing notes in a ledger. I signaled Eben to come join me. When the time was right, he whined low in the perfect pitch of a wolf. The scholar’s attention pricked upward. He stood to investigate, probably to shut the terrace door, but he was caught off guard by the unexpected sight of me, bending down on one knee on the terrace, pretending to tie my boot. When he stepped out, Eben grabbed him from behind, clapping one hand over his mouth and holding a knife to his throat with the other.
I stood. “Make any noise,” I whispered, “and it will be your last. Understand?”
The white of the scholar’s eyes shone in the darkness, and he nodded as much as he dared. Eben loosened his hold on his mouth just long enough for me to learn his name. Phineas.
I checked him for hidden weapons, but as expected there were none. These men were in a protected enclave—the only threat they had to fear was a drunken fall down the stairs.
“Interior,” I whispered to Eben. He went in the house with the scholar still in his grip, and I went back with the others.
We got into position and waited. It was almost too easy. Unarmed, half-drunk men who suspected nothing. My greatest worry was Synové and the moment she saw Bahr face-to-face, though she had already assured me the shock had passed. She had latched onto the idea of the long journey home and the agony she was going to inflict. When I saw Eben’s shadow in the hallway, I motioned to Wren and she whistled six notes of a night thrush. Eben burst in from the rear of the room, shoving the scholar into the center, and we entered from the other side. Synové, Natiya, and Eben had bows taut with arrows, their eyes cold beads on their targets. Wren’s ziethes were drawn. I had cording in one hand and a dagger in the other.
A moment of confusion and disbelief erupted, all of them jumping to their feet, uncertain what was happening, the captain blustering about the intrusion like we were servants who had forgotten to knock. But even in the midst of the chaos, there was a splintered second when fullness engulfed me. The dragon was in our grasp at last.
The dawning truth came first to Chievdar Kardos. He knew Rahtan when he saw them. “An ade fikatad.”
“By order of the Queen of Venda, the King of Morrighan, and the Alliance of Kingdoms, you are all under arrest and will stand trial for treason and murder,” I announced as a matter of necessity. “And now, gentlemen, do exactly as we order because we are not bound to bring you back
alive.”
Synové’s arrow was trained on Bahr’s head, and his eyes were trained on her. He knew all he had to do was make a sudden move for an arrow to fly.
The captain was still trying to dissuade us. “I’m afraid you’ve all made a terrible mistake. We’re not—”
“No mistake, Captain Illarion.” I motioned to the floor. “All of you, down on your stomachs. Now. We have some housekeeping to do before we go for a little ride.”
No one moved, and Synové let an arrow fly, the whoosh sucking air from lungs. It grazed Bahr’s ear and he howled, clapping his hand over the bloody flesh.
“Maybe the wax is out of your ear now,” she said. “You were told to get down on your stomachs.”
They all complied.
Wren and I tied their hands behind their backs while Governor Sarva tried to convince us we would never get away with it. “We do not recognize the queen’s right to rule!”
“But the people of Venda do, and so does every kingdom on the continent,” Eben said, hauling him back to his feet. “Now shut up.”
I mixed the birchwings with a pitcher of water and poured each one a glass, ordering them to drink up. “It will make for a more pleasant ride.”
The older scholar, Torback, wailed, refusing to drink what he thought was poison. Synové aimed her arrow at his chest, and he drank. I explained to them they would be asleep soon. In the meantime, we were going to gag them to ensure their silence, but we reminded them there were more permanent forms of silence and we wouldn’t hesitate to use them.
Bahr spit and mumbled under his breath, “Filthy Rahtan.”