by K K Ness
Hafryn winked. “You forget, fala, that everyone in Corros answers to Sonnen. Tresa holds less sway than she thinks.” He tilted his head, listening. “Speaking of the prince—”
A low whump of dragon wings outside set the curtains to billowing. A few heartbeats later, Danil heard the thud of Sonnen’s landing before the man stepped in from the balcony. He’d changed into plain breeches and embroidered nightshirt, his dark hair windswept. He pulled a makeshift knapsack out from under his cloak.
“Good. I’d hoped to see you both awake,” Sonnen said, setting the knapsack upon the desk. He made a quelling motion when Danil and Hafryn made to stand and helped himself to a large dram from the carafe of spirits on the sideboard.
“And where have you been, oh dragon prince? Skulking about in the night isn’t normally your style,” Hafryn narrowed his eyes as he took in the way Sonnen hovered around the knapsack. “Or thievery, for that matter.”
Sonnen picked up the knapsack and grabbed an ornately embroidered footstool to sit with his back to the fire. “You are not the only one in search of information, wolf.”
“Thievery,” Hafryn pressed. “You’re among friends, Sonnen. We won’t besmirch your honor.”
Sonnen bared his teeth in a humorless smile. “I prefer the term borrowing—especially when it involves searching Freyna’s quarters.”
“Really.” Hafryn leaned forward, his eyebrows raised. “Freyna is above reproach, Sonnen.”
Danil eyed the knapsack, unable to hold back his growing curiosity. “It’s about that word she said, isn’t it? Videre.” He remembered the desperation in her eyes when she’d spoken.
The dragon gave a pleased rumble. “You are quick to understand the heart of matters, custodian.”
It had seemed more critical to Freyna than saving her own energy.
“Can’t say I know the word,” Hafryn said with a frown.
“Nor I,” Sonnen replied and scrunched his face in thought. “It has a ring of Old Amasian though. There may be something useful in Freyna’s notes and readings—I took what I believe are the most likely tomes.”
The knapsack was crammed to the brim with various sized books.
“Great. I remember the last time we dealt with an old tome,” Hafryn muttered and unconsciously rubbed his hands on his breeches.
“Hmm, yes. We were able to thwart a magi plot,” Sonnen pointed out. He turned to Danil. “I can only assume something happened during your time with Freyna this morning, Danil, that made the term important to Freyna.”
Danil rubbed the back of his neck. “It looks like that I can see hidden glyphs—or at least the protective glyphs within the catacombs.”
Sonnen frowned. “Those glyphs ensure the safety of our magical knowledge, Danil. Not even our greatest enchanters know their exact position or design.”
He gave a helpless shrug. “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”
The dragon prince studied him, his expression meditative. “You continue to confound me, Danil.”
“It’s what makes people so nervous,” Hafryn pointed out.
Sonnen waved the comment aside. “Until Freyna can explain herself, we must discover all that we can. Videre is unmistakably Amasian, and so the knowledge lies here somewhere.”
Hafryn pushed himself out of his chair. He took the knapsack and upended it onto the floor. “Right, then. Grab a book, Danil. We’re in for a long night.”
17
Morning saw Danil yawning blearily into the pages.
The pilfered books and tomes lay spread about the sitting room’s main table, with Hafryn slouched in the chair opposite him as he read. Servants entered to place plates of steaming bread and fruit amidst the mess, and Danil stretched stiffly. Having learned enough about the properties of fungi for treating rashes and warts to last a lifetime, he slapped the book closed and reached for the thinnest, smallest tome lying amongst the mess.
Hafryn watched over the top of his book and snorted.
Danil’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I believe that’s a treatise on Eliar undergarments,” Hafryn said, eyes twinkling. “It was quite the fad here a few summers past.”
Danil groaned. “Why did Sonnen take it from Freyna’s rooms, then?”
“I daresay our illustrious leader panicked,” Hafryn said with a grin. “Skulking about isn’t his usual style.”
He couldn’t help but smile at that. The thought of Sonnen tiptoeing about Freyna’s rooms seemed ridiculous. “Have you found anything?” Danil asked eventually.
“Freyna’s interests are certainly varied,” Hafryn said, flipping a page. “But I’ve had no luck here.”
“Seems to be the way of things lately,” Danil muttered, slumping. He grabbed a small bun dotted with nuts and slathered it with butter before handing half to Hafryn.
The wolf murmured his thanks. “We may just have to wait until Freyna is well enough to explain herself.” He closed his book with a sigh. “In the meantime, you have to prepare for the High Council.”
Danil paled. “I thought with Freyna injured—”
Hafryn shook his head. “An assassin in our midst makes everyone nervous. The High Council will want to hear from you as soon as possible, if only to get you out of Corros sooner.”
“Great,” Danil muttered.
Sonnen entered the sitting room dressed in a simple tunic and breeches. His feet were bare on the cold granite. “Hafryn indeed has the right of it, Danil,” he murmured as he took a seat. “But it is to our advantage. We need the council to move quickly.”
“And the threat of danger dangling overhead might be just what we need to get them to finally agree on something,” Hafryn agreed.
Sonnen spooned honey over a roll. “No shifter is beyond personal need, Danil. Not even the High Council.”
It only made the ball in his belly grow heavier. “How can I get them to listen when they doubt my legitimacy?”
“Only to those who have not met you cast doubt,” Sonnen replied. “You will sway them.”
Danil had no idea what the dragon expected him to do.
“I’ll go with him,” Hafryn muttered.
Sonnen shook his head. “There are times when a custodian must stand alone.” His golden eyes settled on Danil. “You have already proven yourself capable. I believe you will serve Kailon well once again.”
Taking a deep breath, Danil nodded.
A knock on the door broke the moment.
A guard stepped inside and bowed. “Councilor Viren wishes to speak with you, my prince.”
Sonnen sat back, wiping his hands on a napkin. “This ought to be good. Show him in.”
The Eyrie councilor strode inside and gave the room a sweeping bow. “Apologies for my interruption,” he said.
Sonnen waved to an empty seat. “Join us, honored councilor.”
“Thank you, Prince Sonnen, but I’ll keep this short.” Viren turned to Danil, who felt his innards tighten under the sharp regard. “The attack in the deadlands was carried out by an assassin of the High Reaches. A woman most skilled in her craft. Her first failure appears to have been her last.” He pulled a roll of parchment from his pouch. “This is her contract.”
Hafryn got up and walked the contract to Sonnen. They both quickly scanned the paper. “This doesn’t reveal the identity of the person who bought her contract.”
“It’s how we have always conducted our business,” Viren said. “But my people have…ways of finding out.” Viren’s eyes slid back to Danil. He bowed. “What happened in Kailon was an aberration, done without the permission of a Keeper. The Eyrie do not kill custodians.”
“You ignore all evidence to the contrary, Viren.” Sonnen thumbed the parchment. “Nonetheless, your assassin must have been offered a hefty price to go against the will of her House.”
“She wouldn’t have lived long to enjoy the spoils of her contract,” Viren said. “Such killings have consequences for all involved. Whoever bought the contract was wise not
to come to me first.”
Hafryn folded his arms. “You’re a Keeper. You expect us to believe you had no idea what your assassins were up to?”
Viren appeared unperturbed. “I arrived in Corros only a day before you—after, I believe, the attack in the deadlands.”
“Convenient.” Hafryn squinted at the man.
“Apparently so, cousin,” Viren replied, mouth tilting upwards. “I assure you I have not signed off on any new contracts since.”
Danil resisted the urge to shiver.
“Had the attack in the deadlands succeeded, the responsibility would have fallen on you, Viren,” Sonnen rumbled, his warning clear.
The Eyrie councilor inclined his head. “Yes, my prince. It’s why I wish to offer the services of the Eyrie to protect the custodian.”
Silence filled the sitting room.
“Beg pardon?” Sonnen said.
“A detail of my personal guards.” Viren bowed respectfully. “For the deadlands custodian.”
Danil’s mouth fell open. The Eyrie councilor kept his expression bland.
Sonnen sat back, his expression contemplative.
“You can’t be serious, Sonnen!” Hafryn blurted out. “We already know the Eyrie are responsible.”
“For the first attempt,” Sonnen said contemplatively. “The attack on Freyna was clumsily done. Such incompetence suggests the folk who seek Danil’s death have made alternative arrangements.”
Viren inclined his head. “That is our belief, also, my prince. Nonetheless, the Eyrie must make reparations for what happened in the deadlands.” His gaze slid back to Danil. “Although I am curious to know how you survived, custodian. She was one of our finest assets.”
Danil’s skin pebbled under the cool regard. “Luck,” he muttered, resisting the urge to fold his arms.
The Eyrie councilor smiled. “It appears you have that in abundance.”
Danil held Viren’s gaze, watching as amusement settled in his green eyes. They reminded him suddenly of Hafryn at his most mischievous, and he had to look away.
“Are we agreed, my prince?” Viren asked. “The custodian’s luck cannot run true forever.”
“Very well,” Sonnen said after a considered pause.
Scowling, Danil bit back the urge to argue, and instead hoped Sonnen knew what he was doing. Hafryn seemed doubtful, muttering under his breath.
“You will select these guards yourself, Councilor Viren,” Sonnen continued. “Their conduct will reflect on you.” Flames showed in his eyes.
Viren bowed. “Of course, my prince. I will get onto it immediately.” He bowed again before striding for the door. It closed behind him with a soft snick.
Hafryn folded his arms. “Ten gold crowns the guards are already in the corridor,” he muttered. He turned to Sonnen. “This is madness. We can’t trust the Eyrie.”
Sonnen grunted. “We can expect them to hold to their honor, Hafryn. Viren is many things, but he stays true to his word. I believe having Eyrie guards will be to our benefit.”
“Aye, until it isn’t,” Hafryn muttered.
Sonnen inclined his head. “Perhaps so.”
A knock interrupted any further conversation.
Hafryn threw up his hands. “What now?” he muttered.
An aging woman in brown robes bowed deeply.
Sonnen rose to his feet. “Honored healer,” he said as he returned the bow.
“Custodian Freyna has awakened, my prince,” the woman said. “She would speak with you now.”
Danil pulled back his chair.
Sonnen raised a hand. “You must prepare for the High Council, Danil. They are expecting you shortly.”
Danil gaped. “But—”
“I will give the custodian your regards.” The dragon’s expression was implacable.
Feeling his face heat, Danil sank back in his chair. “I’d appreciate it.”
Hafryn frowned. “I’d go with you to see if Freyna’s up for some questions, Sonnen, but I’ll feel better joining Danil’s escort.”
Sonnen nodded as he joined the healer. “That might be for the best.”
18
As Hafryn suspected, four Eyrie guards stood at attention outside. Red haired and green-eyed, their kinship with Hafryn was obvious. One eyed at Hafryn with her lip curled but otherwise did nothing. The remaining three kept their gazed fixedly straight ahead as if Hafryn didn’t exist.
Hafryn resolutely ignored them, strolling beside Danil with an air of nonchalance. The Eyrie fell in behind them.
Squinting, Danil willed himself to see their Trueforms. Four russet wolves trotted the corridor, pausing at various doors and archways as if checking for danger. Danil’s eyebrow quirked in surprise as Hafryn’s Trueform loped ahead to scrutinize any approaching shifter.
“What is it?” Hafryn asked as they took a set of stairs to the upper levels.
Danil shook his head. Hafryn’s wolf tilted its head, tongue lolling as it trotted back toward him. It gave his hand a gentle lick, and Danil smiled gratefully. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
Hafryn winked.
They neared the double doors leading into the High Council chambers. Two guards stood at the entrance, and opposite them was Arlyn’s two attendants. Seeing their approach, one guard rapped on the door.
A chamberlain in officious robes emerged, sweaty and apprehensive.
“Custodian Danil,” he said and gave a hasty bow. “The High Council does not require you this day.”
Danil blinked.
Hafryn pushed in front. “Say again?”
“The High Council is attending to other matters,” the chamberlain said and licked his lip nervously. “They will call for you when needed.”
“Well, we need to speak with them now,” Hafryn growled. “The custodian has been here for days. You might not be aware, but there’s a certain urgency to matters requiring the High Council’s approval.”
“It will not be this day.”
The two Roldaerian attendants ignored them, faces carefully blank.
“Emissary Arlyn is speaking with the High Council again,” Danil guessed as he eyed the red robed soldiers.
Hafryn’s growl deepened. “So the High Council speaks with a foreign ambassador twice before seeing a custodian.”
The chamberlain frowned. “The custodian is also foreign, no?”
Hafryn’s mouth opened to argue.
“The High Council is very firm,” the chamberlain interrupted, chest puffing as he stood between the two guards. “They will not hear the Roldaerian custodian today.” He bowed and stepped back into the chamber, the door firmly shutting after him.
Danil gaped. “Roldaerian custodian?”
Cursing, Hafryn said, “Let’s find Sonnen.”
The healing hall was relatively quiet, with much of the work being done behind the variously painted doors. A group of shifters sat on embroidered cushions in a small alcove as a woman in brown robes showed them various leaves and plants.
Movement caught his eye as a yellow door opened. A ghostlike snow leopard emerged to pad across the hall toward them. To Danil’s surprise, she butted her head against his hand. Lines of iridescent light showed along her spine and the tips of her claws. It reminded him suddenly of Freyna’s lightning-filled Trueform.
“Danil,” Elania called as she stepped out of the healing room. She wore a thick wayfarer’s cloak over tunic and breeches dyed dappled green to match the changing forest landscape of Kailon. Her hair appeared wind tousled about her face.
“When did you get here?” Danil asked in delight as she clasped his arm.
“Griff flew me in. He volunteered, apparently,” Elania said, her voice rich with bemusement. She gripped Hafryn’s forearm. “It’s good to see you both well.”
Hafryn nodded. “And you. How goes it with Freyna?”
Elania winked. “Our beloved custodian is not done with this world yet. She’ll recover in time.”
The tension in Danil’s shoulders e
ased. “You’re the great healer they sent for,” he realized.
Her cheeks dimpled. “That’s high praise indeed, Danil. Thank you.”
“It’s well earned,” Hafryn said, smiling.
“But why aren’t you permanently in Corros?” Danil asked Elania. Someone with her skills would be in constant demand in a citadel this large.
“Sonnen doesn’t send riffraff and scoundrels to the borderland, fala,” Hafryn said with a grin.
“Speak for yourself,” Elania laughed. “Though it’s true that our dragon prince might have needed a moment’s convincing. I had my reasons to insist.”
“I assume one of those reasons remains in Kailon,” Hafryn said with a cheeky grin. “How fares Blutark, in any case?”
A faint pink filled Elania’s cheeks. “Just fine, Hafryn,” she said tartly. “I’ll be sure to give him your regards when I head back.” She returned to Danil. “Kailon is a fitting name for the deadlands. Its forests grow richer every day.”
The tension in his belly eased. “I can feel it, though it’s good to hear you say it,” Danil said.
A sudden yearning took him. He missed the gentle buzz of energy beneath his feet at Kailon and the simple enjoyment of watching trees grow. The crystal seemed to grow heavier around his neck.
Hafryn clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll turn the High Council to our cause.”
Danil could only hope he was right.
Elania continued to study the guards. “What’s with the Eyrie?”
They stood a respectful distance away, their expressions bland.
“A bit of posturing,” Hafryn muttered, eyes darkening. “Viren isn’t a supporter of Danil, but he enjoys keeping people off balance.” He shook himself. “Sonnen still inside? Has Freyna spoken of who attacked her?”
Elania shook her head. “Her recollections are vague, unfortunately.” She paused. “There was mention of a panther.”
“Panther?” Danil blurted, startled. “I thought the assassin came in through the balcony.”
Hafryn’s face turned grim. “Someone must have aided him—I know of no panthers who can scale cliffs in such a manner.”