A thin, jagged strip of paper tells me what I already feared. The page has been ripped out. But who would have taken it?

Mila. The answer comes to me immediately. The High Priestess has the same dagger so she would seem the obvious choice, but I’m not sure how I’d go about asking her about the missing page. And why rip it out, unless she wanted to keep something hidden?

Still, I now know that my dagger is one of the three blades of Vindrun. It’s a start. A good one. Now that I have a name, Caroline should have a much better chance of finding out more.

I dress in my old slum clothes. There’s no point wasting my fighting leathers and furs when Caroline doesn’t give a damn about things like that, and the only other items I have are ballgowns, which I’m not going to wear to the library. Besides, slum clothing might be unfashionable and unflattering, but it’s comfortable. And right now, that’s what matters.

Llinos marches into the room as I’m gathering my things.

‘I thought people worked long hours on the island.’ She flops onto the bed. ‘But I haven’t even seen Caz today. These damn nobles expect her to be at their beck and call the moment they have something they think worthy of being recorded by an official scribe. And, spoiler, most of it’s not.’ She lets out a sigh before rolling onto her stomach and looking at me. ‘What have you been doing while I’ve been gone?’

A hint of frustration sparks within me. So much for hoping to get Caroline on the case tonight. Then again, I’ve waited long enough already. Another day likely won’t hurt.

‘I think I’ve got a name for the dagger, but I still don’t know anything about it.’ I hesitate. ‘Is it wrong that I wish I could test it out on someone, just to see what it does? I feel like there must be a reason Dinah gave it to me.’

‘I volunteer Zara,’ Llin replies without missing a beat. ‘Actually, I volunteer the three remaining Rettlings from Rowell.’

‘I don’t think you can volunteer someone without their permission.’

‘Well, that’s shit.’

I laugh only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

‘You expecting company?’ she asks me, tension rising.

‘Yeah, because I’m the one who has frequent visitors,’ I hiss back, although there is actually a possibility that Kestria fancied a sparring session. I briefly spoke to her about it at dinner, but I meant later in the week rather than tonight.

A grin spreads across Llin’s face. ‘I guess Caz finished early.’

She scrambles up from the bed and runs to the door, only to freeze when it’s half open.

‘Oh. I think you must be lost.’ She isn’t rude so much as confused, but the way she speaks makes my skin bristle and I rise to my feet, unsure who would warrant such a welcome.

I recognise our guest instantly when he speaks. ‘I need Thorn,’ he says gruffly. ‘And I need her now.’

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 44

‘Get out.’ Kyor’s voice is nothing more than a low growl as he glares at Llinos. ‘Now.’

Considering his display earlier with Zara, I wouldn’t judge Llin in the slightest if she sprinted off without a second glance in my direction, but whether it’s loyalty, bravery, or just sheer stubbornness, she remains there, blocking his way.

‘I’m not letting you in here unless Rose is okay with it.’

She looks directly at me, though I don’t answer straight away. He’s angry, he may well be drunk, and he’s definitely hurting. Yet even if he had a weapon in his hand – which he doesn’t – he wouldn’t hurt me. I’d bet my life on it.

‘Let him in, Llin. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.’

Rather than moving, she continues to search my face, her own crinkled in concern. ‘I’ll go find Benny. We’ll be just outside if you need us.’

I nod. She may not be pairing up with me, but she’s still got my back.

Kyor barely moves to the side, meaning Llinos has to squeeze past him. Once she’s in the corridor, she shoots me one more worried glance over his shoulder, and despite the apprehension I’m feeling, I send her a reassuring smile. Being alone with Kyor, in a bedroom, feels like a dangerous prospect.

As Llin’s footsteps retreat, I finally move towards Kyor. ‘How drunk are you?’

He stumbles inwards and his full weight falls on me, and though I can barely hold him up, I somehow stop us both from falling flat on our faces while simultaneously kicking the door closed. The last thing I need is for any of the other Rettlings to see him like this.

With a shift of my posture, I find a better hold and lead him over to a bed. As I lower him down I realise the drink isn’t the only reason he can’t stand properly. His black top is soaked around his middle. And it’s not from rain or sweat. It’s blood.

‘What the hell happened?’ I say, lifting it up and seeing the gash underneath. It’s not that deep, but it’s long, and blood continues to ooze from the wound. I’ve seen this man fight, and considering he can take down a freaking jötunn on his own, he must have been sparring with a dozen of his father’s guards at the same time.

‘Just a misstep.’ He lifts one shoulder and winces at the movement.

‘And you came here?’ I arch an eyebrow.

‘I didn’t have anywhere else to go,’ he says, and my heart aches anew for him.

His eyes lock on mine and there’s a twist behind my sternum that I hastily try to quash.

‘How about one of the healers?’ I ask drily as I turn around and move towards the sink, as if not looking at him will control the racing of my pulse. ‘You know, that’s actually their job. The clue is in the name.’

After wetting a cloth with cold water, I head back to him and hold up the corner of his shirt in order to press the compress against his wound. He winces, his body flinching in agony, but he makes no more sound than a slight hiss.

‘Healers answer to my father,’ he groans, visibly swallowing the pain. However much he’s drunk, he hasn’t lost the ability to feel. ‘They report back everything that happens to me, and I really don’t need our great king knowing every little scratch I get.’

I press a little harder as I wipe the edges of the cut, and I can hear his teeth grind together as he hisses again.

‘I had someone who would help when I got myself into situations like this, but now he’s …’ He trails off.

My eyes glance up and meet his, and I instantly know he’s talking about Zelle. Zelle was the person who would patch him up and keep his secrets from his father, because Zelle was one of the few people in the High Hold – if not the entire world, I suspect – that Kyor actually trusted.

‘Are there any more wounds?’ I ask. ‘Or is this it?’

‘There’s one higher up that stings like a fucker.’

As he lifts the front of his top further, I struggle to stifle a gasp. It’s barely a quarter the length of the other one, but it’s at least twice as deep. And it’s still bleeding. A lot.

I try not to show my concern as I think about the herbs I have in my bag. Some would help hasten clotting, but they won’t be enough here. As I move the cloth away I know there’s only one solution to this.

‘It needs stitches.’

‘I know,’ Kyor replies. ‘That’s why I came to you. You stitched up your own hand, right? After the temple? When you were injured. I figured you were the type of person who would do it yourself rather than getting a slum rat to do it for you.’

‘Slum rats,’ I murmur, shaking my head a little. ‘That’s a great way to refer to your subjects, Your Royal Highness. You really are a man of the people, aren’t you?’

He blanches. ‘I didn’t mean⁠—’

‘Yes, I know exactly what you meant,’ I snap.

As tension fills the room, Kyor pulls his top down and locks his jaw. ‘This was a mistake, Thorn. Coming here, coming to you, was a mistake. I should go. Find a seamstress or something. They can sew. Among other things.’