Page 23 of Faeling
Instead, the king’s sister asked, “Do you mean to tell Vallek about all this?”
Ravenna sucked in a breath, considering. “No,” she said finally, “not yet.” She wasn’t a helpless damsel, running off to plead for help at the first sign of trouble. She wasn’t defenseless and intended to stand her ground.
And there wasn’t an insignificant chance that Vallek had himself ordered it.
“I would consider it if this continues,” Lady Eydis advised her. “Of course, I support keeping my brother safe, but you’ve given us no reason to doubt you. If Ulrich continues to be heavy-handed, tell the king.”
“Wouldn’t he already know?” Ravenna asked quietly.
Without hesitation, the orcess answered, “I doubt it. If Vallek has suspicions or doubts, he tends to meet them head on. Subterfuge isn’t his way.”
Well, that gave Ravenna a little heart. She didn’t know if she believed it, for Ulrich didn’t strike her as the type to do anything without the king’s permission. He was too loyal, too obedient.
As if her mind had gone down the same path, Lady Eydis added, “I will say, though, to not make an enemy of Ulrich. He will protect my brother at all costs. If he finds a threat, he getsrid of it.”
Ravenna could only nod. She didn’t intend to heed Lady Eydis’s warning, for she suspected she and the lord commander were already far beyond that line. Ulrich considered her a threat and hunted for evidence to prove it. Ravenna waited for a moment to exact revenge.
In the meantime, she would be patient. There was nothing for him to find.
Probably.
Her mother’s grimoire was the only thing she could think of that might have the smallest scent of the suspicious. She knew it’d been a risk to bring with her, but the memories and knowledge it held were too great a value to leave behind.
The grimoire was written mostly in Eirean, the language of her mother. However, there were plenty of fae words peppered throughout. Ravenna could only hope that the lord commander wouldn’t know the difference.
Vallek’s curiosity over the request for a meeting with his lord commander only grew when his sister walked through the small council chamber door—with the soothsayer behind him. Ulrichdidn’t have to bother calling a meeting; if he had something to tell Vallek, he usually just did.
Standing up from his seat, Vallek exchanged puzzled looks with Eydis. It seemed she didn’t know what this was about, either.
He didn’t miss how the soothsayer stayed near the door. She was in her usual cloak and cowl, and although she’d always been markedly shorter than him and all other orcs, something about the way her wary gaze bounced between him, Ulrich, and Eydis made her look so much smaller. Reduced.
Vallek’s curiosity bled into suspicion, which he preferred to focus on rather than the niggle of guilt nipping at his chest. He’d learned long ago that as a chieftain who aspired to kingship, he couldn’t afford guilt. Not outwardly, at least.
“Is this all of us?” asked Eydis, her tone mild but her eyes sharp on Ulrich.
“Indeed, my lady.” Striding around the great table where Vallek’s council met every week to discuss the business of the city and kingdom, Ulrich stared down the soothsayer as he closed the distance between them. Without looking away, he locked the door, barring any quick escape.
“This is highly unusual, lord commander,” Eydis complained.
“It’s necessary,” said Ulrich.
From a satchel slung across his shoulder he retrieved—a book. Placing it on the table, he opened the old, battered thing, revealing pages of browned ink. What looked like lists, songs, and sketches took up every bit of available space, the pages paying no heed to organization or margins.
“With your permission, my king, I confiscated this from the soothsayer’s personal belongings. She claims it’s just a recipe book, but it’s full of spells and magic. There are faethling words.”
The tanned skin of the soothsayer’s cheeks paled. She held perfectly still, staring at the open grimoire.
“Her visions are magic,” Eydis reasoned. “Is it not to be expected she’d have spells? She might even have a fae in her lineage.”
“Fae are the enemy,” Ulrich growled. Again he turned to loom over the soothsayer, blocking her in.
Vallek’s feet moved before he could think, rounding the table carefully and drawing Eydis behind him. He wasn’t sure which he thought more of a threat—his own lord commander, a gleam of obsession in his eye, or the accused soothsayer, her shoulders rounding at Ulrich’s intensity.
“I amnotan enemy,” the soothsayer said, her voice quiet but firm.
Ulrich’s upper lip peeled back, revealing the full length of his tusks. “You are a liar. A spy!”
Grasping her cloak, he ripped away the fabric, the brooch holding it closed flying across the room to clatter on the other side of the table. The soothsayer could only gasp before Ulrich held her up by the throat.
