Page 133 of Realm of Thieves

“All right, all right,” he says. “Guards, let the woman go.”

The guards immediately release Brynla and step back. She brings her ash-glass sword out of her sheath, holding it at her side as a warning, just in case.

But I keep hold of my father. “Promise me that she is free to live in our house, that you will send no harm to her, whether from you or your brother, or so help me goddesses, I will kill the both of you in your sleep.”

“Fine, fine,” he says.

“Promise!”

“I promise.” He’s practically begging. I don’t think any of us have ever seen him like this.

So I let him go.

He stumbles away from me toward his brother, grabbing his bloody throat, which has only produced a trickle. “But you are no son of mine,” he says.

I shrug, sliding my knife back into its holder. “And I bet that won’t change a damn thing between us.”

We stare at each other for a moment, hatred and animosity flowing between us. Though there is something else now in the air, something to complicate things. I think I might see a flicker of respect. Best not to dwell on it.

Steiner clears his throat from behind me. I turn around to see him reaching for the carriage door. “I suppose this is a good time to tell you that there is a consolation prize, Father.”

He steps inside and brings out the giant deathdrage egg, barely able to lift it but handling it well all the same.

“What is that?” my father asks tiredly, his voice hoarse.

“A fertilized deathdrage egg,” Steiner says. “Just like you asked. Although technically, you did ask for sycledrage eggs, but we had to make do.”

“You brought a fertilized deathdrage egg?” my uncle spits out. He throws his arms out. “Where the fuck are we supposed to raise that giant thing once it’s hatched?”

Steiner shrugs. “I’m sure we can figure that out.”

I look to my father. He stares at the egg, his expression changing from discomfort and disappointment to that elated look again. Not as happy as when he thought he was going to become immortal, but close enough. He’s probably picturing a forty-foot dragon with him as its rider, laying waste to soldiers in some war that’s yet to come. If I really wanted to rub it in, I’d tell him that there is no way he’ll ever be able to train it and that Brynla will be the only one who can, or at least the only one the dragon won’t eat.

But because my father looks happy, deviously so, it means that the pressure is off me. I’m no longer his concern, nor is Brynla.

Chapter 37

Brynla

Three months later

“Snowball fight?” Andor says tome from atop Onyx, the horse dancing back and forth in anticipation.

“Only if you feel like losing again,” I say, gripping the reins of Juniper, the white mare I ride. She belongs to Steiner technically, but since the youngest Kolbeck has no interest in riding, she’s become mine by default.

Which is great, because she’s a lot faster than Andor’s horse.

He grins at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and I feel that flutter in my heart. How much I love this man. It should be a crime.

He knows it too. He uses his looks to disarm me.

“Hee-yah!” he cries out to Onyx, flapping the reins, and his horse takes off, galloping down the lane away from Stormglen.

He leaves me in a trail of dust and fallen leaves, but I only have to cluck to Juniper before she takes off like a bolt of lightning, her white mane flowing in the wind.

Lemi barks, joining in the chase, and he gallops beside me as we catch up to Andor just before we hit the main road. Once we go faster than he can run, he starts to shift and will merrily shift all the way up to Lake Efst.

Not that we’ve come back here since the original visit, summer having faded into shades of gold and bronze, autumn at our doorstep. A change in seasons is a new thing for me, since the only thing that changes in Esland is the path of the sun, and I’m soaking it up every chance I get. The first falling leaf from the mighty oaks outside the castle filled me with such delight, even though Solla lamented that it was a sign of the long winter ahead.

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