Page 56 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
The angles of his face turned dangerous. “When?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember much apart from a pair of dark eyes.” I patched whatever memories still lingered in my brain. “The snake…it felt like it was controlled too.”
Like it had been mapping my skin to know exactly where to bite.
Zandyr remained silent. After a few tense moments, he nodded. “The bite marks are near your femoral artery. It’s a miracle he didn’t pierce it and that you didn’t cut through it yourself. Lucky.”
“Stubborn.” I’d refused to die. “Who did it?”
“If I knew for sure, they would already be bleeding at your feet.”
The blazing intensity of his words was so at odds with the cold, detached way he was looking at me now. I forced myself not to let my eyes drift toward the darkest corner of the room. “You suspect.Who?”
He worked his jaw, as if measuring his words. “Either whoever attacked your first wedding…”
If my eyes hadn’t still stung, I would have rolled them. I was getting sick and tired of not knowing. “Or?”
“Someone you have already met. In the Blood Brotherhood.”
“It might come as a shock, but after almost dying, I’m not in the mood for riddles.”
A corner of his lips tilted up. “Names are powerful in the Blood Brotherhood Clan, too. They can be tied to oaths. The kind that bleed you dry if you break them.”
Ah. “But insinuations are fair game.”
“Let’s call them clues.” His smirk grew, but it wasn’t the jagged grin he’d had at the wedding. This one didn’t feel forced or threatening.
“I hate this,” I whispered. “All this skulking around the obvious truth.”
He huffed a laugh. “You’re turning more Blood Brotherhood by the day.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Bite your tongue.”
“See? Already giving orders.”
I pursed my lips. “If you’re done mocking me on my sick bed, maybe you can tell me who’s watching from the corner.”
I finally turned my head toward the shadows and the deep, even breaths. The smell of freshly tanned leather was unmistakable.
The shadows moved as a figure melted away from them, emerging in the soft light of the stars.
A woman. A dangerous one who made no noise. She moved with precision, keeping her face impassive. The few wrinklesaround her eyes and on her forehead revealed her age, but there was youthful strength in those bronze muscles peeking from underneath her leather vest, which had twin rows of gleaming daggers strapped to each side.
More knives shined from her belt, catching the light and flicking it back onto the floor.
Her dark eyes assessed me without hesitation.
“Perceptive,” she said, curt and efficient.
“I would like you to meet Adara, one of the few people who I’ve bled alongside,” Zandyr said.
“The few who are still alive, Dragon,” she said.
“She’s the best mercenary I know and aformermember of the Blood Brotherhood Clan.”
I inhaled sharply, ignoring the sudden pang in my ribs. Nobody left a Clan with their hearts still beating unless they ran away for good–or they accomplished an impossible mission first. The Blood Brotherhood books in my library said so.
What unthinkable task had Adara done and survived to leave her Clan, and still be welcomed back in the Capital by the prince himself?
