Page 37 of Unrivaled
“For how long?”I asked but regretted the question almost instantly.
“We were there all day,” Thomas said.The words were hoarse.
“Southern mages, they don’t work the way ours do,” Kaelson told me, nudging my cider.“They mess with the weather, like.With the stones and the water.Well, Wolfswail streets, it wasn’t made for lots of rain because their mages, they keep the city safe and warm.When the blood flowed, it didn’t drain right.Caused traffic issues, with all the piss and vomit and blood.It was slow going.”
I couldn’t look at Thomas.I couldn’t quite picture that much death.
“Killingeveryone,that’s a time-consuming thing,” Kaelson said conversationally.“But it was kill or be killed.Some of the deserters made it through.And the infants, of course.By the evening, they’d made it to the central square.I was running things outside the city, so I can only tell you what I’ve heard.But the Duke, he thanked everyone.Mind, they’re exhausted.They’ve been swinging weapons all day, searching cellars and lofts alike for survivors, dragging them into the street, wading through entrails and rubble.And he says, ‘Any man who can turn on his neighbor isn’t a trustworthy man.’And he made our boys kill those Southerners who’d survived, who’d fought alongside us or been brought to us, who’d been promised safety.Like vermin.”
Kaelson shifted slightly and I made the mistake of glancing up and catching myself in his gaze, hypnotic in the light of the lamp.
“That’s the man whose daughter you’re fucking,” Kaelson said, softly.“Who could terrify a population protected by giant wolves, who could massacre a city down to the last infant.Do you need me to tell you what he did to her mother?Because, friend, when we’re talking aboutpersonalaffronts rather thanpoliticalones, the Duke is less efficient.”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was a desert.
“Tell him,” Thomas said.“We’ve come this far, Kael.”
Kaelson’s eyes dropped down to the table.He blinked a few times, then sniffed.“Shit.”He let out an impatient huff.“I’m not going to sleep right for the rest of the winter,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.
I lifted the cup in my hand and took a pull.
“I can’t tell you what happened that day,” he said, the words hoarser.“No one can.He only keeps survivors for a purpose.”
I remembered, suddenly, that grey morning, the crossbows levelled at me.The blood oath I’d sworn to the woman in the next room.
I wanted to weep.
I’d seen the evidence everywhere of how loyal other people were to him.
This wasn’t abe terrified of the Butchertalk.It was ano one will keep your secrets from himtalk.
“I can tell you confidently Arabella used to love tapestry.She made many around the keep.Her tapestries were a mark of pride.She favored landscapes.Pretty orchard settings, and the cliffs in the winter.”
Thomas shook his head, lifting his hand to his eyes, and I could feel the sinking feeling in the pit of my belly.
“I don’t know what happened,” Kaelson said, quietly.“I stepped back, took on a simpler role, after Wolfswail.I wasn’t listening to much of anything.But I heard, and it might’ve been a rumor…I heard she refused to do any featuring him.Not a single one.She liked what she liked.He broke her fingers.Not justbroke.He pulverized them.”Kaelson let out a shaky breath.“I didn’t believe it, until I saw her one day, on the way to the tourney, her sleeves were so long they dragged on the ground, but they were resting in her lap.Big lumps of things.Utterly useless.”
“And the time she told the cook she loved his candied violets,” Thomas said.
Kaelson shrugged.“I was going to let that one go.Remember what he did to Jessie?He delivered the wine to the keep, back in the day.”
The tart cider filled my mouth, but all I could taste was bitterness.
No one would keep her secrets.When the Butcher was near, everyone just did what they needed to survive.
How was it that I’d forgotten that key requirement?Always manage the monster.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
CHAY
At lady Veron’s party with Dwain and I overheard the Advisor telling someone they suspected the last person they were intimate with might’ve been a spy.I haven’t seen Pie in weeks, and no one else has, either.Do you know where he’s gone?—Sparrow to Nightingale in a hushed conversation
18thDay of Winter’s Wife Moon,
Age of the Locways, Year 271
La’Angi Keep
