A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(51)

They’ve met no opposition because we don’t have enough people to fight this war long term. I wonder if this is why Rhen is sending Jamison’s regiment to the border—to prevent Grey from gaining more of a foothold than he’s already got.

“At least Grey is still honoring the sixty days,” I say.

Rhen glances at me over his shoulder. “I would not consider stationing forces in my lands to be honoring anything at all.”

His tone is bitter. Before I can comment on it, Chesleigh says, “Nor would I.” She glances at me. “Do you have any experience with military strategy, my lady?”

Okay, now I want to resent her.

No, that’s not true. It’s a simple question. An honest one.

“Very little,” I say.

“It was your brother who was leader of your king’s army, is that correct?” She glances at Rhen. “And then he fled with that traitor.”

“Jake isn’t a traitor,” I snap.

Chesleigh glances at Rhen, and then back at me. “Prince Jacob has stationed himself as Grey’s second. He trains with their military and answers to no one but Grey or the queen herself. If he is not a traitor, then he was never loyal to Emberfall at all—and perhaps never to Disi either.”

Wait. Wait. Her sentences hit me like bullets from a machine gun, like I can’t react before more slam into me. I haven’t seen Jake since the day he and Grey returned to the castle, since the moment they declared war, since my brother had dinner with me and said, “Yes, Harp, I’m going back.” The way he paused and said, “You could come, too.”

And I didn’t.

I knew he and Grey had moved past their early hatred of each other. I knew my brother was on the other side of this war.

I never thought about him being at Grey’s right hand. I never really considered him plotting against Rhen. Against us. When he was here, in Emberfall, he and Noah kept to themselves. He certainly never made any effort to endear himself to Rhen—and honestly, Rhen wasn’t quick to remedy that himself.

But my brother has never hesitated to do what he believes needs to be done—even if that means getting his hands dirty. For the first time, I wonder what he thinks of this war. Is he taking a stand against Rhen? Or is he taking a stand for Grey?

Or is it neither? Is he taking a stand for himself, something he believes in?

Am I on the wrong side here?

I wonder if this is what happened to my mother—if she was buried by self-doubt when it came to my father and his choices. I don’t know. That scene Lilith showed me keeps playing in my brain, when Rhen ordered Grey to drag the serving boy out of his chambers for spilling a little tea.

They’re all monsters, aren’t they?

Rhen has turned back to Chesleigh without acknowledging her comments about Jake. I can’t tell if that’s out of kindness to me or if he genuinely doesn’t care. Either way, that old familiar knot of anger has re-formed in my belly, fighting for space against the uncertainty.

“Before you left,” he says tightly, “you mentioned there were certain … artifacts in Syhl Shallow.”

Artifacts. What kind of artifacts? I hate that there are clearly secrets he’s still keeping from me.

Or maybe they aren’t secrets at all. Maybe it’s just military stuff that he wouldn’t bother to share.

I need to turn my brain off.

“You mentioned I could name my price,” she says.

Something in my chest clenches tight. “I can’t see Rhen saying that.”

He looks at me, and if his eyes could shoot laser beams, they would. “About this, I did.”

What is his problem? I set my jaw. He once told me to never offer all I have, because someone would ask for it. What if Chesleigh asks for the whole kingdom? What is he willing to sacrifice for an advantage in this war?

She doesn’t. “A thousand silvers,” Chesleigh says.

My heart gives a jolt. It’s a lot of money. He offered five hundred silvers to find the heir, and people were ready to kill each other to claim it. At my back, Zo gives a low gasp.

“Tell me what you have,” says Rhen.

Chesleigh draws a dagger from her belt and holds it out. “Made of steel from the Iishellasa ice forests,” she says. “Impervious to magic.”

Rhen takes the blade from her, and he weighs it in his hand. The weapon looks aged, with braided leather around the hilt that seems to have thinned in spots from wear. But the blade itself is polished silver, and it looks sharp enough to cut through stone.

He looks back at her. “It could be just a dagger.”

She shrugs. “Indeed. It could be. The blade will cut through flesh regardless.” She pauses. “I have no magesmith handy. Do you?”

Impervious to magic.

I have no magesmith handy.

I stare at Rhen, but he’s looking at Chesleigh. “A thousand silvers.” He slips the dagger into his belt. “Done.”

Does he mean to use this weapon against Grey? Or Lilith?

Or both?

I’m scared of the answer—because I think I already know. This is like the moment he chose to string Grey up on the wall. He didn’t tell me, because I didn’t want to know. I don’t want to know now. I don’t want to think of him plotting to kill Grey.

But of course, this is war.