It might be the truest statement Skar has ever uttered. And also the biggest understatement.
Silence falls. I can hear the crisping embers of once-upon-a-Tymon in the room, and soft snoring from Noblewife Aelin on the floor. What a pair they make.
The standstill continues.
“I bear no ill will for Tymon’s soldiery,” Skartovius says. “Only the man himself, for his treachery. Did you know of his plans to send an assassin after Sephania?”
Their lives ride on the answer.
The guard gives a wise response, curtly shaking his head. “We would have charged in had we known the specifics. Figured you had a reason to be in there, seeing as Demilord Aldion was your ally for so many years. So we waited.”
“Until we crisped him?” Garroway asks from the side, tilting his head. “Interesting strategy.” He ducks when Skar shoots him a withering glare.
Skar says, “You’re telling me you waited and did nothing outside these doors . . . because of your curiosity? You would have foughtagainstTymon had you charged in?”
The guardsman clenches his jaw. His three comrades adjust their footing, seeming awkward. When it’s put like that, they don’t appear to be very good soldiers. Or guards.
Finally, the vampire lets out a sigh, and his shoulders relax. “We four have fought alongside you for two decades, at Tymon’s behest, my lord. You may not know our faces, but we are just a few of the many swords in your arsenal, your coven. Your court, and everything you did, was not only made up of high-born noblebloods.”
“I daresay it wasn’t,” Skar murmurs. His voice sounds clipped, as if he didn’t realize he actually had support outside of the vampires who attend his shadowgalas. Men like these soldiers.
It’s a shock to all of us, honestly.
The guards steps aside, creating a tunnel for us to traverse down the hall past them. “If you go to the basement of this castle, you will find the corpses of five of our comrades. One of the soldiers—the one crucified against the back wall—wasa bloodthrall to Aramastun Wyvox. He couldn’t keep his silly mouth shut about what was going to happen to you.”
Garro steps forward. “So youdidknow what was happening in there.”
“Not the specifics, dhampir. Like I said.”
I blink between my mates and these four hardened warriors. Skar’s brow is furrowed. He’s still in a state of confusion, it appears, that something is actually going our way.Could be a trap, of course. Wait for us to walk by and then stab us in the sides when we’re closer.
I consider myself a fair judge of character, however, even with vampires involved.Especiallywith vampires involved. And I don’t believe it’s a trap. So I take the lead and walk forward, instantly inciting my mates to follow in my footsteps.
As we pass the soldiers, the stuffiness of the smoke and proximity to the guards hemming us in abates. Skartovius turns around and we all stop. “Why are you helping us, soldiers?”
The lead guard puffs his chest out. “Not everyone believes the overlords have our best interests at heart, Lord Ashfen. Some of us believe in the promise you told at Manor Marquin. The promise of a new order in Olhav, free from the confinement of the Five Ministries.”
Skar clears his throat. He’s incapable of voicing his gratitude, and Iwantto pat him on the shoulder to tell him it’s okay to feel grateful to honest, loyal fighters.
My hand hovers near his shoulder . . . and I yank it back. The action pulls my heartstrings. Skar’s lie to Lukain has soured our connection and closeness, and I can’t bring myself to show him any kindness right now. He can’t think I’ve so easily forgiven him, when I haven’t.
The soldier gives Skartovius a solemn salute, thumping his fist against his chest. “You have allies, Lord Ashfen. They may bescattered, they may be few and far between. All you need to do is find them.”
I didnotexpect a stranger—an enemy’s personal guard—to voice the trajectory of our mission so succinctly for us. But here we are.Find our allies, whatever nooks and crannies they’re hiding in.
We leave Tymon’s castle without another word or thought, leaving carnage and death in our wake. Not only Tymon’s death, but also a widow, fatherless children, and a handful of dead soldiers killed not by our hand but by our mission. Ourcause.
Outside in the gloomy forest, the sky is slate gray.
Vallan peers heavenward. “Sun will rise in an hour.”
“Then we travel for two,” Skar says, and I imagine he’s speaking in hyperbole, since doing that is the quickest way to turn our company into the same pile of ash we left upstairs in Tymon’s castle. “We can’t let Aramastun’s army gain on us. We’ve already done that by wasting time here.”
I crunch over dried leaves and damp roots, kicking a bush for no reason. “If we have to rest for daylight, so does Aramastun’s army.”
Garroway chuckles at my logic, which makes Skar stew.
Lukain says, “Have we given more thought as to where we’re going? We’re still traveling north. Eventually, this mountain will end. Are you jumping us off a cliff, brother?”