Picking herself up and helping her brother to his feet, Zara snapped, “I gave it to him. Henry fell, that's all. Let him go.”
The rebel didn’t seem satisfied. He was normally a reasonable man. Anais took a step. A hand held her back – Vern’s, his head shaking slightly.
Another moment passed before Pelios lowered his blade and moved back. He turned his back to Castien without a word. To Zara, he asked, “Are you both alright?”
She gathered her sword, sheathed it, and checked the string of her bow. “We’re fine. I can protect myself.”
Castien lowered his arms. His head fell, his hand slowly petting the wolf as she rubbed against his leg. There would be exhaustion in his eyes if she could see them. She wished she could run down the hill and hold him, but he had requesteddistance between them, and her Escorts agreed. She would only make things worse.
Anais glanced at Vern and headed toward the horses. The animals were where she had left them, chewing on grass and ignoring the humans. She worked at the reins, speaking in a low voice, “When we reach the border, I want you to take Castien to Octavius. I'll bring the army to forestall any difficulties with Satryani.”
Vern's stillness was always a warning. “He is not injured. He can wait.”
Her eyes met his, and he instantly softened. She wasn't above pleading. “His mind is shattered, and that can't be set with a splint. Vern – Father, please. I know you can get him back safely. And one of us needs to counteract Satryani as soon as possible. Would you rather I take him, and you travel behind with the army?”
He moved closer, his knuckles brushing her cheek. In a gentle tone, he said, “You call me ‘Father’ to manipulate my decisions – do not deny it.”
Her lips had parted to do just that. It was his own tactics, or perhaps her mother's. When Jana had murmured, ‘my darling,’ he had always given in. Perhaps Anais had overused it lately, but not without cause.
Vern continued, “I trust you, I love you, and I will always choose you. Be careful what you tell me to do.”
All her Escorts were dear to her. Once, she would have said – to no one but herself – her father most of all. Her eyes strayed down the hill. Sending them back together prioritized them both. Vern wasn't a heartless murderer. He killed to protect. He wouldn't harm Castien.
As she led the horses toward the water, she said, “Please take him home, Vern. I need to know he's safe.”
“As you wish, my Queen.”
Chapter 30
Castien
“I’m cold.”
Those were the first words he’d spoken in days.
Vern tossed a log onto the fire. The crackle of burning wood was a better companion than the steward. Warmer. Brighter. Probably more talkative.
Vern hadn’t said anything either since they’d parted ways from Anais. Longer, actually. The man hoarded words like a dragon gold.
Except when he whispered to the horses. And he spared a few for Ash.
“There’s a tavern an hour to the northeast. It’s closer to the main road than we are.”
The assassin slid a dagger from his boot and proceeded to wipe it with a cloth. One of the horses nickered. Laughing at him.
“Could we at least buy a blanket from a farmer or something? We have another week of travel, and the nights aren’t getting any warmer.”
Vern tucked one blade away only to draw three more. Each fit neatly between his fingers as he slid cloth over metal. He sat far enough back from the fire that shadows danced across his face. If the other man were scowling, laughing, or glaring, Castien wouldn’t know.
He had plenty of time to think during the last few days. It was that, or let random memories float to the surface. Not sorandom, he supposed. His dreams were bad enough. Vern had stared at him this morning for so long, it appeared the man might speak. He hadn’t. Silence might suit an assassin, but it was driving Castien mad.
“Vern, I hope you haven’t lost your tongue. I’m sure someone found it useful once. Not you, obviously, but–”
A knife buried itself at his feet, its small handle jutting out from the dirt less than an inch from the front of his right boot. Faster than a blink, another knife landed in the exact same spot before his left boot.
Vern held the remaining one between his fingertips. “The last irritating person I traveled with is dead.”
He swallowed. “And why haven’t you? Killed me already.”
