Page 49 of Thorn Season
“Two knife wounds.” He sat rigidly on the vanity stool. “One in the stomach, one across the throat. The killer took the weapon and leftWray’s body atop a drainage gutter so the blood wouldn’t seep into the street. He wasn’t found until hours later.”
Though I hadn’t been fond of Wray, I shuddered at his gruesome end.
“The person must have been strong,” Tari offered, “to have bested a Hunter in combat.”
Garret looked scornfully toward her. “You think my father was taken down by one person? It would’ve been an ambush. The killer must have had others working for them, even then.”
I paused, hand in the dresser. I’d never heard Garret call Wray hisfather; they’d always seemed so indifferent toward each other. But Wrayhadbeen Garret’s main guardian from infancy.
Perhaps Garret wanted to find Wray’s murderer for more reason than one.
“You said Wray was acting strangely,” I said, “like he’d traveled to Henthorn that night for a secret meeting. Did he have any court connections?”
“None he’d mentioned, even to Briar.”
Tari said acidly, “So, the keeper of the compass could be sleeping next door to Alissa and we wouldn’t even know. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Quite a few things are bothering me right now.” Garret spoke between his teeth. “Would you like to know where you rank?” He looked her over, lip curling. “What are you even doing here? You couldn’t play sidekick for anyone else, so you had to follow Alissa to court?”
Tari’s cheeks darkened with anger and a tinge of humiliation. Though he’d jabbed blindly, Garret had happened to strike a raw nerve.
Tari was proud of the life her parents had carved out for her in Vereen, where she spent mornings learning at her mother’s clinic and evenings cooking dinner with her father. But she sometimes felt like she’d been swept away by the tide of their routine, into a life she’d had no hand in shaping.
Recently, she’d suffered a self-inflicted pressure to find her calling. Had harbored doubt that she would stamp her mark on this kingdom the way she wanted to.
Hearing her purpose reduced tosidekickmust have burned like a wasp sting.
But although I wanted to eviscerate Garret for the remark, I bit my tongue. If I revealed her vulnerabilities, he would learn to use them as ammunition.
It was Tari who sneered back at him, holding her own, “After that stunt Erik pulled with dullroot, you should be glad someone’s looking out for Alissa.”
Garret faltered. He looked toward me. “What happened?”
“Erik’s idea of a good time.” I began folding away a pair of short silk gloves, then, on second thought, left them atop the dresser. “Dullroot on the glasses.”
Garret sat up, startled. “Did you touch—?”
“Would I be alive right now if I had?”
His forehead puckered, forming a little crease of concern.
Even Erik must have doubted the Ansorans’ good intentions. If they truly sensed something amiss in our kingdom—if they were gauging Daradon’s strength—then those dullroot glasses had been Erik’s answer. No—they’d been hiswarning.
Perhaps the first of many.
“You still think court is the safest place for me?” I asked tartly.
Garret’s face hardened again, and I was glad to have sealed that crack of worry. It was easier to hate him when he looked like this.
“Yes,” he maintained. “I don’t think the keeper would bring the compass within Erik’s reach. Besides, the copycats have never Hunted at the palace.”
“Maybe no Wielders are stupid enough to live here,” Tari muttered.
Garret acted as though she hadn’t spoken—a habit he’d carried over from childhood—and turned to me. “You still need to move fast. With every Hunting—” He broke off. Inhaled through his nose. “You become more at risk,” he finished.
But he’d seemed close to saying something else.
I was about to press him when he added, inexpressive, “They struck again last night, in Creak.”
