Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords #3)(90)

One member of the Elite stands several meters to my right.

“It may interest you to know I’ve discovered the reason for my mother’s imprisonment inside this.” I wave the material slightly. My time is up. If we have any chance at beating the Elite we need to know how many there are, and we need them to be off-guard. What better way than to shock them?

“Maybe you’d like me to share her secret with you?” I ask.

I feel their interest more than I hear or see it.

“I cannot blame you for your curiosity. It is a mystery,” I say. “I myself was most disappointed when I discovered the evidence of my mother’s,” I pause dramatically while searching for the right word, “indiscretion.”

“To accuse the Tatum is to die,” another of the Elite spits out.

“Temper, temper,” I say. “He must be new, Hare.” I rest back against the food bench. “And I hardly think it matters whether you kill me because you already have the orders, or if you kill me for slandering my mother.

“I would like you to see something before you execute me on behalf of my mother.” I reach for the veil, expecting to feel the paralyzing fear. It’s the first time I’ve shown a group of my own people, after all. Instead, I find a cold, calculating sort of vengeance there. Once the Elite have seen, it doesn’t matter if they kill everyone in this room. Because one of them will talk. Osolis is not like Glacium. If I die today, I’ve assured my mother’s ruin.

I ready myself for attack, but the soldiers are entirely still—more curious than I gave them credit for. Without fuss, I draw the veil from my head and watch as it falls to the ground. Then I glance up with a mocking smile at the gaping men I feared as a child.

I purse my lips. “Your reaction is more entertaining than anticipated.”

I hear gasps from the assembly to my side. The noise distracts me momentarily. I’d forgotten the Bruma were there.

“Frost?” someone says.

“It’s Frost!”

“Silence!” roars Hare. The Bruma instantly hush.

“My goodness, do find your decorum.” I look around with interest. “Fifteen of you,” I call in a strong voice. “I see Cassius thought Tatum Ronsin’s previous numbers lacked the appropriate force.” I nod at several of the Elite. “The four by the archway seem a little fresh to be in the Elite, though,” I say, wrinkling my nose.

“You’re a filthy half-breed!” the man to Hare’s left snarls. Brovek, if I recall correctly.

“Oh, are we still back there,” I ask. “Let’s not forget who actually did the filthy in the first place.” I smile at the signs of their anger. A shift to the other foot; a tightening grip on their weapon of choice.

“You dare,” Hare says.

“Hare,” I say. “Shut the fuck up.” I doubt he knows what the term means, but by the way his face twists I can tell he’s guessed it’s offensive. I grin, taunting him.

“As much as I’d looked forward to hearing your screams again, we have a job to do. Once we deal with you, we will signal the Tatum’s army to attack,” he says. I follow his line of sight. One of the Elite, a new one, holds a torch. It seems Cassius has added his own unique twist to Tatum Rosin’s strategy. They’re going to light a fire, but where?

Hare circles me, hands clasped behind his back. Fine lines wrinkle his face. If I let his age fool me I’ll be dead in a second. “I imagine the bodies of the pitiful soldiers we killed will light on fire rather nicely,” he says. “I wonder if the Bruma villagers will be able to smell the burning flesh from here.” That he’s divulged their mission shows how completely confident he is that his Solati force will succeed.

I know now the fate of the remaining fifty-one watchmen. It’s another sick twist in the Solatis’ plan.

“The Bruma savages will buckle and we will slaughter every last one of them. But first…” He leans in. “I will kill you. Then the Bruma spawn behind you. A nice little message for the Animal King if he should survive the battle.”

I let my shoulders sag, making myself small. Aquin would applaud me. “You could let me live and give a false account to Mother,” I plead as he takes a half-step forward. How many times have I waited for this moment? Simmering in fury, with my head bowed submissively in Mother’s torture room.

He throws his head back in laughter. I strike. I go for something simple. It’s more than he deserves.

Hare smacks to the ground, his head twisted so far around that his final view is of the beamed ceiling on the king’s hall, though the rest of his body faces the opposite way.

“A broken neck for a broken leg.” I shrug at the shocked faces of the Elite. I turn my attention to Brovek, the second in command.

“You—” he starts.

“Brother,” I call toward the stone archway, cutting Brovek off. It has the desired effect. The Elite halt in their tracks. They may not take orders from me, but it’s possible my brother may get through to them now that Hare is dead. Several in the back are still sharing stunned looks. I risk a quick glance at the women and children at the back. A few are in bad shape, but they’re alive.

I grin at Olandon as he strolls in and steps over Hare’s corpse to stand behind me and just to my right. A show of respect.