Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
He would try to regain control, and he would make it seem like sliding back into the warm embrace of his power was my idea. Right now, with our relationship on the verge of breaking, he would be most agreeable to making concessions. I had to make the most of it, because as much as I wanted to throw my plate at his face, I needed him. He was right. We had failed to stop the Butcher. Hreban was still on his way to his reign of terror and Reynald’s son would still die.
“Who did the Butcher kill this time?” I asked.
Everyone stopped chewing.
“Velpor,” Everard said. “Highly decorated, recently retired. He was one of Wynand Bors’s Conquerors.”
“What happened to the body?” I asked.
“The Shears took it,” Everard said.
Knowing Solentine’s people, they had either destroyed the corpse or stashed it in one of their caverns. They had some sort of preservation chamber in there. A wise choice. Otherwise, we’d have the entire Order of the Conqueror running amok in the capital, exhaling rage and looking for blood. Speaking of that . . .
“I saw blood on one of the swords last night.” I kept my voice neutral. “Was it yours or his?”
“His,” Everard said.
That meant the blood on my clothes was the Butcher’s as well. Score.
I kept my voice even. “How badly is he hurt?”
“Nothing that would incapacitate him. The cut will bleed for a few days, but meanwhile he can go about his business.”
“In that case, I have to go out,” I said.
“Where to?” Everard asked.
It was like we were the only two people in the room. Nobody else was talking.
“The Defender Citadel.”
“Eliarde?” he asked.
I nodded. “We failed. She’s the next target on the list. He will come after her, and there is no way for us to approach her.”
“Are you planning on using Berengur?”
He’d already plotted my strategy, which was just the way I wanted it. The smarter he felt, the more freedom I would get.
“Yes. Berengur has a good relationship with Arvel, and Arvel is Eliarde’s second cousin. She worships the soles of his boots. She would listen to a warning if it came from him.”
Everard leaned back, thinking out loud. “Praul Britin is at least two days of hard riding from Kair Toren. Assuming Berengur left the same day you two spoke, that gives him seven days. He may not be back yet.”
“It’s worth a try.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
Oh no, he wouldn’t. Not in his wildest dreams.
“That’s not a good idea. First, you promised Solentine you would stay here. Second, Sauven is likely aware you are in the city. By now at least one of the holy orders will be looking for you. You are well known to the Defenders. You will be recognized even if you wear every lancer’s coif in the city.”
He didn’t like that. Too bad.
“Your Grace,” I started.
A spark of green flashed in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, would you prefer Lord Commander?”
“Formality isn’t necessary,” he said.
“What should I call you?”
“Ramond is fine.”
No. Absolutely not.
“Your Grace, if any of the Defender Knights spied a man of your height and build covering his face and loitering near the Citadel, how fast do you think they would corner him and demand he remove his hood?”
“You’re not going out alone.”
“I don’t plan to. The Butcher’s magic is distinct. Someone will remember him, so I’m guessing the Magnars will be going tavern to tavern today.”
Gort jerked a little.
“They will,” Everard confirmed. “We’ll have his name by midweek at most.”
“You don’t need Gort and Shana and both Magnar brothers. Will is older; more people know him, so he will be more useful to you. Let me take Lute as my escort.”
He didn’t like that either.
Too bad. I had to win this fight, or we would never find the Butcher again.
“Take a carriage,” he said.
“I can’t. We don’t own a carriage and even if we did, I would have to cross Ashen Bridge, and no carriage is allowed on it without a permit. Not to mention that no matter what carriage we hire, the driver will be working for the Shears.”
It didn’t matter where we got the carriage. The driver would answer to Solentine. If we insisted on putting our driver in it, they would sabotage it in some way.
“The Shears have the necessary permits,” he countered.
“Solentine hates unknowns, and right now I’m a frightening unknown. His people will disappear me, and when you call him on it, he will be terribly remorseful. He’ll offer his regrets and tell you that what’s done is done and the two of you should move past it.”
Everard focused on me. I had never been sighted through the scope of a sniper rifle, but I’d bet it would feel exactly like that. I clenched my hands into fists under the table. Holding his gaze was really difficult.