He takes pity on me when I choke into silence, answering the questions I cannot quite voice. “You had not been gone more than an hour before your maids realized something must’ve happened and sent up the alarm. I was already on my way back from the border with a unit of men. By the time we rode through the front gates, two merchants had come forward claiming they witnessed you being shoved unconscious into the back of a wagon bya man wearing an Ember Guild uniform. The guards posted at the tunnel confirmed its was Gower who passed through.” His teeth grind together in frustration. “They didn’t think to search the wagon when he claimed he was on official business for the prince.”
I nod. “He tried that same tactic with the other guards. The ones at the outpost. But they were skeptical from the start. And when they heard me banging in the back of the wagon, they knew something was amiss. They tried to help, but…”
“Gower killed them.”
I have to look away. His eyes are too intent, too knowing. I stare at the fire instead as I speak. The embers smolder, red as blood. “He was desperate, you see. Dying. A slow death, his insides eaten away bit by bit. I have seen such illness before, back in Seahaven. I doubt he had more than a year left to live.”
There is a heavy silence.
“Apparently, Efnysien is offering immortality to the lucky individual who turns me over.”
The silence grows electric with rage.
“I thought…” My voice falters. I swallow hard and try again. “I thought I was safe in Caeldera.”
A pulse of guilt pierces the bond, sharp as a needle between my ribs. “So did I,” Penn says with a heavy sigh. “I thought the wards would be enough to keep our enemies at bay. I did not anticipate being betrayed by one of our own. Certainly not one of my top men.”
I press my lips together, unsure how to respond to that.
“The members of the Ember Guild are handpicked,” he continues. “They train for years before they earn a rank akin to Gower’s. I had no reason to think you were in danger where he was concerned.”
Still, I remain silent. I do not trust myself to speak. My emotions are too raw, my reactions too untempered.
“Rhya,” he prompts after a moment. “What are you thinking right now? Give me some small indication.”
I shrug and run my hands through my tangled hair. My thoughts feel just as raw as my emotions. It will do me no good to allow them to lash out at him.
Penn’s voice goes rough with frustration. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? Gods, Rhya, you know I am.” He sucks in a breath to steady himself but cannot quite disguise the flash of temper. “That said, you were supposed to stay in the palace until I got back.”
My whole frame stiffens. Finally, I find my powers of speech. “Well, you never should’ve left in the first place.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I have other responsibilities besides catering to you. I have an entire kingdom to run. I can’t spend every minute making sure you’re not walking blithely into death traps—”
“Blithely?So it’s my fault I was taken?”
“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “But if you’d not been wandering around unattended—”
“I wasn’t unattended! I hadGowerlooking out for me!” I snap right back at him. “I guess I should’ve somehow foreseen that he was going to knock me over the head, shove me into a wagon, and attempt to barter me to Efnysien like a prized lamb for slaughter!”
“Rhya—”
“You know, I almost don’t blame him,” I cut him off. My laugh is biting. Bitter. “Gower. He would’ve tried anything to live. It wasn’t personal.”
“Do not,” he grits out between clenched teeth, “make excuses for what he did.”
“I’m not excusing it, I’m just saying—”
“Enough.” His eyes press closed. “Tell me the rest. Finish it.”
“Don’t order me around like one of your men. I don’t snap to your commands, O great princeling.”
“Rhya.”
He sounds weary enough to garner cooperation. I heave a sigh and then, in a flat voice, describe the tornado I summoned in the sparsest details. The blast that destroyed the wagon, that sent the spear into Gower’s gut. Penn listens without interruption for the most part, but I hear his sharp intake of air as I reach the final piece of the tale.
“I slit his throat,” I whisper starkly. “He was gone in the space of an instant.”
There is a long silence, during which he takes several deep breaths. When he finally speaks, his voice is a guttural rasp, brimming with vengeance. “You should’ve left him there to writhe. To rot. He did not deserve such a merciful end.”