A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(12)



She shrugs and takes a sip of her wine.

I narrow my eyes. “I could find out for myself by sending scouts.”

“Yes, and it would take you a week and possibly the loss of those scouts.” She drains her glass, then smiles. This one looks genuine, and it turns her expression from calculating to something more intriguing. “Is that truly worth another hundred and fifty silvers, Your Highness?”

No. It’s not. “One hundred now,” I say to her. “One hundred when I’ve verified what you told me.”

“You’ll risk men anyway?”

“I’d rather risk a few now than risk my entire army on your word.” I pause. “Now. Tell me.”

“Forces have already made camp on the western side of Blackrock Plains, just at the base of the mountains.”

The Grand Marshals gasp.

I don’t. “How many?”

“At least a thousand.”

Silver hell. A thousand enemy soldiers are stationed in my country and I had no idea.

A part of me goes cold at the thought. Grey gave me warning. Even Lilith gave me warning.

I didn’t want to believe it.

I have to bite back a shiver. I glance at one of my guards. “Find General Landon.” He gives me a quick nod and rushes off. I look back at Chesleigh. “I will pay you your silver and verify your story. If you’re giving me the truth, return to Ironrose in a week and I’ll pay you the rest.”

She doesn’t move. “I can tell you about more than just the soldiers, Your Highness.”

“What else?”

Her eyebrows go up.

“There is a difference between hunger and greed,” I say.

“Is there?” she says innocently.

“One hundred fifty now.”

She hesitates, and I can tell that she’s weighing whether to play me for more. I’ve never bartered with mercenaries, but I’ve seen my father do it, and I know from experience that once you set a level, they’ll only ask for more the next time. She won’t get more than that out of me today, and maybe my expression gives that away.

“A faction has formed in Syhl Shallow,” she says. “There are many who fear magic. Many others who want no part of it among their people. There are records and ledgers of the magesmiths, of the things they could do, of the ways they were vulnerable.” She pauses. “There are those who oppose the queen, and her alliance with this magesmith.”

I go still. “Are you a part of this faction?”

“I could be.”

“How are they vulnerable?”

“I have heard that magic can be bound into a certain kind of steel forged in the ice forests of Iishellasa. This steel can be fashioned to bear magic itself—or it can cause wounds that are impervious to magic. Many of these artifacts have been lost to time, but some can still be found in the Syhl Shallow villages where the magesmiths once lived.”

“Preposterous,” blusters one of the Grand Marshals.

But it’s not preposterous. Grey once wore a silver bracelet that the enchantress bound to his wrist. It allowed him to cross the veil into Washington, DC.

I have no idea where it ended up. But I know such a thing exists.

My breathing goes thin, and my thoughts race. Is there a weapon that could harm Lilith? Has the solution been in Syhl Shallow all this time?

“I have heard rumor of one such weapon,” says Chesleigh. She shrugs. “Doubtless there are others.”

“Such a weapon could be used against the false heir,” I hear one of the Grand Marshals murmur.

No, I think. Such a weapon could be used against Lilith.

This feels like a risk. There is no proof. No surety. It’s not as if I could ask Lilith herself. Even now, I want to cast a glance around, as if she could be listening to this very conversation.

I say, “Could you retrieve this weapon?”

Her eyes flash. “It will cost you.”

“For this, you can name your price.”





CHAPTER SEVEN

HARPER

The sun set hours ago, and the stable hands have long since gone to bed. The silence is heavy around me, but I don’t mind. Silence means I’m alone. I’m not entirely sure where I’m going, but I’m not dragging Zo down with me this time. I sent her back to her quarters with the assurance that I’d head for my own.

Instead, I’m in the stables, and this dress is cut for riding. I have Ironwill saddled in three minutes, and I’m on his back in one. I don’t really know where I’m going, but I don’t want to be here. I cluck softly to the horse, and we trot through the stable doorway.

A hand appears from nowhere, grabbing the rein. “Whoa!” yells a male voice.

Ironwill spooks, then spins, then rears.

I gasp and tilt sideways. The horse skitters, his iron shoes striking the cobblestones frantically. I scramble for purchase, but I’m going to hit the cobblestones. It’s going to hurt.

Instead, I’m caught, arms closing around me, stopping the fall. It’s dark, and half the people in Emberfall hate Rhen right now, so I shriek and struggle, my hand finding the dagger at my waist.

“My lady. My lady.” Dustan’s voice. My feet are set roughly against the ground.

I fight to right my cloak, shoving unruly hair out of my face. I’m gasping, my breath making quick clouds in the air. Another guard has hold of Ironwill’s reins, and the horse prances, tossing his head.

Brigid Kemmerer's Books