Page 101 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood

Hand on his sword, his steely gaze bores into mine.

My heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

Ready?I mouth as I draw my short sword, not wanting to give the stranger the upper hand.

Agnar dips his chin, unsheathing his own weapon with a practiced ease that sends a sliver of light dancing across the walls. In one fluid motion, the door groans open.

Agnar performs an immediate inspection of the interior. His sharp gaze zeroes in on something in the back. I glance that way and see a sheathed sword leaning against the wall, along with a bow and quiver of arrows. The feathers on the end give me pause.

They look familiar.

A cough diverts my attention to the rectangular wooden table near the entrance where the stranger sits in a chair whittling. He doesn’t even look up, but I know he’s aware of our intrusion.

For a few heartbeats, no one speaks. I take the opportunity to study him.

Though he’s got to be forty years my senior, there’s nothing feeble about this man. He’s tall and lean, his warm beige skin weathered like he’s spent years in the sun. Dark brown hair that’s going gray at the temples falls loose around his face, brushing what has to be at least a few days’ worth of growth.

Even under the beard, his strong features are prominent. Lines crease his forehead and crinkle the corners of his eyes, and his nose is slightly crooked in a couple of places. Judging from the weapons strapped to him, he’s a skilled fighter.

“Well, hello again.” His lips quirk like he wants to smile but isn’t accustomed to doing so, and warmth gleams in his russet eyes. “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

He keeps his tone casual, as if we’re discussing the weather.

Agnar tenses behind me, but the man’s gaze drifts over our bared weapons without concern. “No. I’m still searching for a phoenix.” I run my thumb over the hilt of the short sword. “Thought I might find one in here.”

Probably not the smartest idea to bait this guy when I hardly know him. But it’s been one hells of a week, and I’m not in the mood to play nice.

“You remind me so much of myself when I was your age.” Grin breaking free, he shifts away from us, his attention snagged by the painting of the woman riding a dragon.

The same image that’s haunted me since the last time I was here.

My patience snaps. I don’t have time for games. “Who are you?”

Agnar draws up beside me, his movements methodical as he scans the room.

“Have you used your tears to cleanse your adoptive sister?” The stranger’s question pierces the quiet, and a cold prickle of anxiety runs down my spine.

What is he, some sort of spy?

I opt for ignorance, grip tightening around my weapon. “I don’t know what?—”

His knowing laugh reverberates off the stone walls. It’s the laugh of someone who sees right through me, and it sets my nerves on edge.

Who is this man? And why does he seem so familiar when this is only the second time I’ve seen him? Well, maybe the first time didn’t count since he kept his face mostly hidden then.

“Come now.” He rises, looking every bit a warrior as he starts to pace the room. “I take it you’ve learned about the history of the phoenix? Your family lineage. You must know you don’t need to capture a phoenix for their tears.”

Agnar’s mouth drops, gaze swinging from the man to me. “Tell me you’re just as in the dark as I am.”

“Ah.” The man stops pacing a few feet in front of us. “I guess your bodyguard didn’t join you on your journey.”

“Correct. My brother accompanied me. Though you probably already know that since you seem to know everything.” Eyes glued to the man, I fumble to fill Agnar in. “It’s a long story. I’ll give you the details later, but basically, dragoncallers are descended from phoenixes. And we sort of have healing powers. I…um, healed this ancient dragon’s eyesight.”

“Holy.Fuck.” Sensing the tension and awe radiating from Agnar, I steal a quick peek at him. “And you’re just now telling me this?”

“Haven’t exactly had time. Besides, I was going to tell you when I told Sterling so I didn’t have to repeat the story over and over.” I heave a sigh. “But here we are.”

The man’s eyes catch mine, holding a spark of something inscrutable. “You are the eldest daughter of your mother’s line, inheritor of the phoenix’s magic. While you look like both your mother and father, inside you’re nearly identical to your mother. Your biological mother.”

---