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)
“The Redeemers rise in status above other holy orders.”
Reynald grimaced. “Status they would lose immediately if either Arvel or Bors decide they care. Too much risk for too little gain. No, it’s bigger than that.”
“So Silveren is using Hreban? To what end?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Estol Silveren wasn’t a POV character. He didn’t have a lot of page time either. He was the son of a baron from the southwest. His family was well-off. He came from a long line of knights, and like his father, he had distinguished himself on the battlefield. In war, he was clever and demonstrated flashes of brilliance.
When he was twenty-three, he was sent overseas on one of Rellas’s foreign campaigns. The detachment of the army under his command had taken a small town and burned it to the ground. It was unclear how the fire had started, but many people died, and Silveren was deeply affected by it. He resigned and joined the Order of Redeemers, seeking forgiveness and absolution. His rise through their ranks was meteoric. Within five years, the aging Preceptor passed him the reins. Silveren was thirty-one now, and so far, he’d stayed completely neutral, surfing the sea of political intrigue without getting his hair wet.
“I don’t know,” I told him. “Hreban holds him in high regard, which for him means refraining from openly sneering in Silveren’s direction. When chaos starts, publicly the Redeemers act mostly as one would expect. Once Hreban’s private troops are done rampaging, they put out the fires, keep the peace, and obey Sauven’s commands.”
“And privately?”
“They do things that would turn your hair white. Especially Silveren. You’re right, he must have some kind of plan, but what is it?”
“I don’t know, and that troubles me.”
It troubled me as well.
There was something I was missing here, which wasn’t surprising. Latour was infamous for inserting seemingly random scenes into the narrative. They would sit there without any obvious reason for their existence, until three hundred pages later some shocking revelation would make them crucial and relevant. One of them could’ve related to Silveren and without the final book, I would never make the connection, no matter how many times I’d reread.
The lack of the third book was so fucking frustrating.
“What do you want to do?” Reynald asked.
“I want to rattle Hreban’s cage.”
“You want to leak word of the iron.” His eyes lit up.
“Yes.”
“So do I.”
“Rattled people make mistakes. I want to see what he does.”
“Then we’re in accord. I want to stab Hreban and see if Silveren moves to counter.”
We shared a look across the table.
“It is far riskier than selling it to the Shears,” I said.
“I’m willing to take the risk,” he said. “Let me handle this as well.”
“What will you do?”
“I have a friend who works for the Justice Chamber.”
I waited but he didn’t volunteer anything else. Whoever this friend was, the books didn’t mention them.
“It’s my turn to demonstrate trust then.”
His grin had a slightly evil edge to it. “Don’t worry, Maggie. Your trust is not misplaced.”
CHAPTER 17
PLANTER 15
Outside my window the sun was setting. Somewhere in the distance bells rang eight times. The Magnars had been gone for two hours. I heard footsteps and looked up. Clover appeared in the open doorway and knocked on the doorframe. “Are you sure you don’t want any dinner?”
Shana had cooked the whole dinner before she left, complete with dessert, but I couldn’t stomach a single bite. “I’m not hungry.”
“Snacks? You didn’t even have any sambocades.”
“I’m good. But thank you for thinking of me.”
She frowned and left.
Last night, after Reynald and I talked, he had gone out. In the morning he informed me that the errand was taken care of. Reynald’s friend moved fast. I’d sent Kaiden out to the wharf just after noon for general reconnaissance, and according to him, men in armor in black and purple tabards had swarmed the Yolenta warehouse. He couldn’t even get close. Hreban had people in the wharf. By now he would know that the warehouse had been raided by the Justice Chamber, and he would deduce why.
We’d made enemies of two Great Families today and if they ever found out about it, there would be hell to pay. And yet it didn’t bother me. All of my anxiety was going toward the Magnars. Filderon was overjoyed that Gort had changed his mind and had invited the Magnar family to join him for dinner at the house he leased. They had put on their mercenary garb. I wished them to “Survive, get paid,” which was an old mercenary saying for good luck. Lute and Will laughed at me and then they left.
I’d set this in motion. I had known exactly how it would go if I told the Magnars about Falcon Point. It was too late for regrets. I’d sent four people to either kill someone or get killed, and I desperately hoped it wouldn’t be the latter.