Page 164 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
I huffed a laugh. “I know her name, but don’t know yours.”
He blinked my way one time too many, as if caught off guard. “You’re right.”
“Always.” I laughed.
“I could have sworn I told you. It feels like we’re already so familiar, but that’s not the reality, is it?”
I shook my head. “We don’t know a lot about each other.”
“A lifetime to learn, right?” He sighed, but it didn’t sound sad or regretful. If anything, there was a wistfulness there. “I’m Ryker.”
A part of me hadn’t been expecting him to answer. Giving your real name to a Protectorate member was a sign of deep trust. Even more rattling after I detected that hint of suspicion from him.
Maybe I’d imagined it.
“Ryker,” I repeated. I liked the sound of it on my lips. Strong. Unflinching.
From the way his lips quirked, he’d liked it, too.
I tilted my head to the side, looking up at him. “Never would have pegged you for a Greycrest.”
It sounded wrong. Harsh in ways the Commander–Ryker–didn’t seem to be. It also sounded familiar.
“Then it’s lucky I’m not called that. Greycrest was my father’s name,” he barely tilted his chin in the direction of a lavish coffin with a tall, burly man resting on top of it, armed to the teeth. The statue had a frowned brow ridge which I supposed had been meant to look fearsome, but instead came off as permanently unsatisfied. If Ryker’s father had been the same during his life, I wouldn’t have wanted to meet him, anyway. “I’m Ryker Nochtvir, after my mother. The throne was hers, then it passed down to me.”
“I like Ryker Notchtvir much better, good choice. Greycrest is…” A memory of a spy whisper slashed through my mind. “Wait, Greycrest as in the Ashrift Clan?”
Few Clans in Mahaven were more secretive, yet still despised, like the Northern ones. They stuck to their icy side of the world and caused chaos all around them.
“You’ve never asked about the Northern Clans before,” he said slowly. Almost too slowly.
“Had other things on my mind until now, didn’t I? You’re related to Beren, of all heinous Clan leaders?”
“Yes,” was all he said, the word cutting.
I whistled. “So that’s where the frown comes from.”
He barked a laugh, but it sounded biting. So that side of the family wasn’t all that loved, thank the gods. I’d barely made peace with being related to the Blood Brotherhood–Evie had already signed the marriage contract, so it was truly inevitable at this point–I couldn’t imagine family reunions with the bleeding Northern Clans.
But the crater side seemed much better.
“She seemed like a lovely person.” I stared at her one more, only then noticing she also wore a baldric identical to his, only hers was filled with daggers, unlike his. I’d seen this design before, I could swear.
“She was. Taken too soon, sadly,” he said, drawing my attention back to him.
“What happened?” I asked. “If you want to talk about it, of course, I–”
“Her heart was too big for this world,” he said quickly, as if the words had been begging to be released. “A few families got sick a few winters ago, we haven’t found from what even today. The younglings suffered the worst. Their lungs hissed so loud, you could hear it through all the city. We tried everything. Brought in healers from all around Malhaven, under threat of death if they revealed anything. We began losing younglings.”
I could see the story fracturing him as he told it and wondered if he’d ever truly revealed it to someone else. Guilt clung to every word and breath.
His stare glazed over as he kept staring at his mother’s statue.
“One of them suggested taking them to the icy Northern shores could help. They said the cold, salty breeze could held freeze the disease.” His tone tilted with an edge, the angles of his face tightening. “I didn’t truly believe in it, but we were desperate. My mother begged–begged–the Northern Clans to allow us access to their coast. We’d planned on taking an isolated caravan, wouldn’t have bothered anyone. They refused. Said they didn’t want the disease to become their problem.”
“Those bastards,” I muttered. Children. They’d said no to dying children.
“You know who did help?” He scoffed. “The Blood Brotherhood. After decades of animosity. After the Northern Old Guard tried to kill The Dragon when he was nothing but a babe out of sheer spite and revenge. When the prince’sspies told the queen about our situation, she sent supplies and allowed us passage to their shores. Not as icy, but saltier. The Dragon himself came to escort us and stayed until most of them recovered. But we lost too many. My mother among them. She cared for those younglings as if they were her own and caught the disease herself. Perhaps much earlier than I realized. She’d always been good at hiding what ailed her. I didn’t notice until it was too late. And I lost her.”
