“I’m the asshole?” I rolled my eyes and laughed bitterly. “She’s the one that was negligent and immature! She’s abandoning her job for some stupid boy!”
“No, she’s not,” Ridley corrected me as reasonably as he could. “She’s an adult woman starting a family with someone she loves. That all seems relatively normal and healthy to me.”
I slumped back on the bench and took a deep breath to calm myself. “Our priority is to this kingdom and these people. We took an oath when we were sworn as trackers, and now there’s something major going on, and she’s going to be off playing house.”
“We’re allowed to have lives, Bryn.” His tone softened, like he was sad that he needed to explain this to me, and he sat down on the bench across from me. “We can date and have fun and raise families and fall in love.”
Running a hand through my hair, I refused to look at him and muttered, “You would say that.”
“What does that even mean?” Ridley sounded taken aback.
“Because you’re in love with Juni,” I told him pointedly, as if I were accusing him of a crime.
“I never said that. I just started dating her, and that doesn’t even matter.” He brushed it off. “The point is that you’re acting insane right now.” I scoffed, so he continued. “Tilda is your friend, and you’re scared and pissed off and you’re taking it out on her for no good reason.”
I bristled. “I am not scared.”
“You are,” he insisted. “You’re scared of losing her, that she won’t be able to work with you as much anymore. But what I think is really bothering you right now is that the King wants you to go kill Konstantin, and you’re not sure if you can.”
“That’s…” I shifted on the bench and shook my head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” He leaned forward, trying to get me to look at him, but I refused. “I know you, Bryn.”
My shoulders sagged, and I hung my head low, staring down at the cracked tiles of the locker room floor. I put my head in my hands and let out a long, shaky breath.
“I don’t want to kill him. I should, and I know I should, but I don’t.”
“I know,” he said. “I may not understand why, since I’d give anything to kill the man that killed my father, but I know that this is how you feel.”
I lifted my head to meet his gaze, so he could see that I meant it. “I just want to make sure the right person pays for the right crime, and … I don’t think that’s Konstantin.” I groaned, realizing how foolish it sounded. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing,” Ridley assured me. “You just have strong convictions, and you want to do the right thing.”
“Are you going out on the mission?”
He shook his head. “No. The King wants me to stay back.” He studied me for a minute, then asked, “If you were to see him, would you kill Konstantin?”
Without hesitation, I answered, “The King ordered me to do something. I am a tracker, a member of the King’s court, and I took an oath that I would follow all the orders he gives me. So yes, I will do what’s required of me.”
TWENTY-FIVE
motives
Konstantin’s gray eyes stared back at me, unyielding, unforgiving. It was his first official photo when he’d joined the Högdragen, in full color on the top page of his file. He’d been younger then, clean-shaven, skin smooth, but unsmiling. The Högdragen were never supposed to smile, not when they were working.
It was strange because in the picture he looked harder than he did now. The years on the run had taken their toll on him, definitely, but he’d softened somehow.
I wish I could know what had changed between the time that proud young man had been photographed in his crisp uniform, and the night he’d run my father through with his sword.
After Ridley had confronted me in the locker room, I’d changed and gone back to apologize to Tilda, but she was already gone. But that might be for the best. She could probably use some space before I went to her and owned up to how unfair and cruel I’d been.
Ridley had gone off to take care of some pressing Rektor business with another tracker, so I took the opportunity to sneak in and grab Konstantin Black’s file from the cabinet behind his desk. Technically, anybody was allowed to look at Konstantin’s file, since he was a wanted man, so I had no need to sneak, but I didn’t want to talk to Ridley about it. At least not right now.
I sat cross-legged on my bed with Konstantin’s file spread out before me, hoping that it would give some kind of insight that would help me figure out what happened and what was going on.
But so far there wasn’t anything that I didn’t already know. His father had died when he was very young, and he’d been raised by his mother, who died around the time he joined tracker school. He’d graduated at the top of his tracker class, and he went on to successfully bring in 98 percent of the changelings he was assigned to in the eight years he worked as a tracker.
He joined the Högdragen at the age of twenty-three immediately following his retirement from tracking. He’d transitioned seamlessly into their ranks, rising quickly because of his diligence and charm. Shortly after Mina married the King, she’d appointed Konstantin as her guard, where he’d risen to even greater prominence.
Everything in his file showed him as a loyal, intelligent hard worker, even if he was occasionally noted for his pride. If he was arrogant, it seemed justified. He gave a superior performance at his job, and he was beloved by the people.
In every one of the King’s Games Konstantin had competed in, he’d walked away with top honors. He was a hero to the people, and a loyal servant to the King and Queen.
That was it. That was all that was in his file. Just accolades and praise, up until the night he attempted to kill my father. Then there was a report explaining the incident and that Konstantin had disappeared in the night’s snow.
But there had to be something more. Something I was missing that would make him change so drastically. From a guard full of swagger and promise to a traitor on the run, humbled and worn.
Ember’s footsteps pounding up the stairs to my loft interrupted my thoughts, and I scrambled to put everything back in the file. I’d just shoved it underneath my blankets when Ember threw open the door.
“I know, I know,” I said as soon as I saw her glaring down at me. “I acted like a jackass toward Tilda today.”
“You certainly did.” She trudged over to me, her boots leaving snowy prints on the creaking floorboards. “You really hurt her feelings.”
“I’ll apologize to her later,” I promised Ember. “I just thought I’d give her some space.”
“Good.” Ember kicked off her boots, then flopped back on the bed beside me. She wore thick leggings under a skirt that flounced around her. “It will suck not having Tilda to train with or work with around Doldastam. But she says she’s coming back after the baby’s born.”
“I know,” I said, without much conviction.
“I mean, my mom didn’t go back to tracking after she had my older brother.” Her eyebrows pinched together and her mouth turned down into disappointment. “And that other tracker Sybilla had her baby two years ago, and she still hasn’t come back.”
“Maybe Tilda will be different.” I tried to cheer Ember up. “And even if she doesn’t come back, she’ll still be in town, and we can still see her.”
“You think she’s wrong, though.” Ember leaned back on the bed, propping herself up with her elbows and looking at me. “You don’t think she should have a personal life, that any of us should.”
“I have friends, and I’ve dated, and I thought it was great when Tilda and Kasper started dating. So it’s not that we shouldn’t have personal lives,” I said, trying to explain my position. “I just think we made an oath to make this job our priority, and having strong attachments can interfere with that.”
“Is that why you and Ridley never hooked up?” Ember asked.
“What? I—we—we never…” I sputtered, and sat back on the bed, moving farther away from her. “We never did anything because neither of us wanted to. I don’t have those feelings for him, and I’m sure he feels the same way. He’s my boss, and both of us could lose our jobs, and now he’s dating Juni, and besides, we didn’t want to. So. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ember raised her eyebrows and smirked at me. “Whatever you say, Bryn.”
“Nothing good ever comes from falling in love,” I told her definitively. “You act ridiculous and lose your mind and you forget what really matters to you, and then you end up sidelined and married or heartbroken and destitute, and neither of those are good options, so it’s better if you just avoid relationships altogether.”
“Gosh, I really hope you don’t mean that, because that just sounds sad,” Ember said, staring up at me with pity in her dark eyes.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Just never mind.” I stood up, grabbing a sweater off my bedpost, and pulled it on over my tank top.
“What are you doing?” Ember sat up straighter, alarmed.
“I should probably head out. I’m supposed to go over to my parents’ for supper.” If I left now, I’d actually be a little early, but I’d grown tired of talking about romance and Ridley.
“Oh.” Her face fell. “Okay.” She slowly pulled on her boots and got to her feet. “Sorry if I said something to offend you.”
“No, you’re okay.” I brushed it off. “You’re fine. I just have stuff to do.”
Ember left, not seeming totally convinced that I wasn’t mad at her, so tomorrow I’d probably have to spend some time making up with both her and Tilda. But for now I had other things on my mind. Once she’d gone, I moved Konstantin’s file, preferring to hide it in the bottom of my nightstand drawer, underneath odds and ends.
The dinner with my parents had actually been my idea. After I’d read the incident report, going over what had happened with Konstantin in black-and-white, I realized that I needed to talk to my dad and find out what had actually happened that night before I came into the room.
The sun had nearly set by the time I reached my parents’ cottage in the town square. It had been a rare day without a cloud in sight, and the sky was darkening from pink to amethyst as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Before I even opened the front door, I could hear my mother, singing an old Skojare seafaring hymn. I paused, peeking through the kitchen window to see her standing in the kitchen, an apron around her waist and flour everywhere. She always sang when she baked, usually Skojare songs in a mixture of heavily accented English and Swedish, or occasionally Barbra Streisand. My mom had always been a sucker for Streisand.
When I came inside, I closed the door quietly behind me, and she didn’t hear me as I took off my boots and hung up my jacket. As a tracker, I’d been trained to tread lightly, to move about without making a sound, and I’d made it all the way into the kitchen before she turned around and saw me.
“Bryn!” Mom gasped and put her hand to her chest. “You scared the daylights out of me!” She smiled and swatted me playfully with an oven mitt. “Don’t give your mother a heart attack. It’s not very nice.”
“Sorry,” I said, but couldn’t help laughing. “What are you baking?”
“Just a gooseberry pie for dessert.”
“I’m sure it’ll be delicious.” I grinned. “Where’s Dad? I wanted to talk to him before dinner.”
“He’s in his study,” Mom said, but she stopped me before I turned to go. “Listen, Bryn, I need to talk to you for a second.”
“About what?” I asked, and even though I was an adult living on my own, I still felt like a little kid about to be grounded for staying out too late.
“Well.” She took a deep breath and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ear, unmindful that she was getting flour in it, and her eyes were grim. “I know that Konstantin Black is the one causing all the trouble.”
I took half a step back from her and straightened my shoulders, preparing for a fight, but I waited until she’d said her piece before saying anything.
“I know that you have a job to do, but…” She pursed her lips. “He nearly took your father and you away from me already. I don’t want you messing around with him.”
“Mom, he barely hurt me before,” I tried to deflect her concern. “It was little more than a scratch, and I was just a kid then. I can handle him now. You don’t need to worry.”
“Bryn, you are my daughter, my only daughter.” She walked closer to me and put her hands on my shoulders. “I know how brave and strong you are, but I need to know that you’re safe. And I can’t know that if you’re chasing around after this madman.”
She put her hand to my cheek, forcing me to look up at her, and the aquamarine in her eyes was filled with pleading. “Bryn. Please. Promise you’ll stay away from him.”
“I’ll stay away from him if I can,” I told her honestly. “But I’m going to protect myself and this kingdom. I’ll do what I need to do, and that’s the best I can give you.”
Her shoulders slacked, but her hand lingered on my face. “Be safe. Don’t be reckless or brave. If you must go out after him, then come back safe.”
“I will,” I assured her, and she leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
“Okay.” She stepped back and smiled at me, trying to erase her earlier seriousness. “I need to finish with the pie. Go ahead and see your father.”
TWENTY-SIX
remnants
Dad sat at his desk, his head bowed over paperwork and his reading glasses resting precariously on the end of his nose. The only light came from a small lamp next to him, and it made the silver hair at his temples stand out more against the rest of his black hair.
“Can I talk to you for a second, Dad?” I asked, poking my head in his study.
“Bryn.” He smiled when he saw me, and pulled off his glasses. “Yeah, of course. Come in.”
I closed the door behind me, and then sat down in the chair across from his desk. The walls of his study were lined with shelves filled with old books and Kanin antiquities. On his desk, he used an old artifact—a rabbit carved out of stone—as a paperweight. I’d always felt that in another life, my dad would’ve made an excellent history professor.
“Is something wrong?” He leaned forward on the desk, and his brow furrowed in concern.
“Not exactly.” I crossed my legs and settled back in the chair. “But I need you to tell me about the day that Konstantin Black tried to kill you.”
“I’d be happy to tell you anything you want to know, but I don’t know how much there is to tell.” Dad shook his head. “I mean, you were there and witnessed most of it. What you didn’t witness, we’ve already talked about.”
And we had. Dad had been interviewed by multiple Högdragen and even the King himself, as they tried to get to the bottom of what had happened with Konstantin. Beyond that, Dad and I had talked about it after it had happened. I’d been just as confused as everyone else, if not more so.
“It’s been a long time, though. I need a refresher,” I said.
“All right.” Dad set his glasses aside on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “We were at the celebration that night, and everyone was there. Lots of people were drunk. We were all in good spirits about the Vittra King being killed. Konstantin was working, but I don’t even really remember seeing him. You probably had a better view of him than I did.”
I had had my eyes on Konstantin most of the night. While my duties were to stand at attention during formalities and help keep inebriated townsfolk from causing a ruckus, most of that really meant standing at the side of the room and watching. So my gaze frequently went to Konstantin, who smiled much more than a member of the Högdragen was supposed to.
That was honestly what I remembered most about him that night. Him standing proud and confident in his lush uniform, smiling and laughing with anyone who bumped into him as he stood by
the King and Queen’s side. Konstantin had seemed like a man in good spirits—not like one plotting murder.
“I grew weary of the party, probably fairly early in the evening. At least by your standards. I am an old man, after all.” Dad offered a small smile to lighten the story. “I headed back to my office, where I worked on a letter to the Trylle. I fell asleep briefly at my desk, I believe, and I kept periodically peeking out so I could catch you before you left.”
“You were kind of stalking me that night?” I asked, raising a bemused eyebrow.
“You were only fifteen and it was your first night on the job, and there were far too many drunk idiots dancing around.” He shrugged. “I wanted to make sure it went okay for you.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, warmed by the thought of my dad watching out for me, whether I’d needed it or not.
“You’re very welcome,” Dad said. “And when you were done, Konstantin found us in the main hall, and that was the first time I’d spoken to him all night.”
“When was the last time you’d spoken to him before that?” I asked.
“Um, I’m not completely sure.” He scratched his temple. “I think probably the day before. Konstantin had come to get me to ask me something on the Queen’s behalf about the celebration. I don’t remember exactly what it was, but I think it was just basic palace party stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary, really.”
“Had you ever fought with Konstantin?” I pressed.
“No.” Dad shook his head. “No, we barely spoke. I saw him around the palace from time to time, but the only times we ever talked was if he was passing along a message from the King or Queen, or vice versa.
“I know he was something of a star to folks around here,” he went on. “And I never really bought into the hero worship, but I’d never had a bad word to say about him. He could be cocky, but he was polite and efficient, and he seemed to do his job well, so I never had reason to complain.”
“Did he say anything to you?” I asked. “After you left me in the hall, and you and Konstantin walked back to the Queen’s office.”
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