Rasnake(6)

Milton frowned, and reached out—but let his hand fall when Cecil jerked away. "Cecil, I had no idea…"

Cecil laughed, sharp and bitter. "What do you want, Milton?"

"I wanted to see you, to see Irene…"

"Welcome home," Cecil said. He turned away and returned to the floor where he had been sitting before.

Milton shook his head. "What the fuck happened, Cecil?"

"What do you care?" Cecil asked. "You left. It's been twelve years. That tattoo means you're battle-bonded to that elf skulking behind you. Obviously you found better things to do with your life. So did I. We don't need you."

Tallant could all but see the anger flare to life in Milton. "Is that why you're locked up, Cecil? Because you can handle yourself? Is that why Irene is missing? It looks to me like your handling of the situation is a monumental disaster."

Cecil snarled and stood again, coming at them with such fury that Tallant would not have been surprised at all if he broke down the cell. "Don't you pretend you understand a goddamn thing, Milton, just don't. You know nothing. I'm in here because that fucking council thinks Irene is dead and I'm all that stands between them and stealing the dukedom. When another girl turns up dead, which she probably will unfortunately, and I've been in here the entire time, they will have no choice but to free me." He laughed in a way far too old and bitter for someone so young. "All this assuming, of course, that they aren't forced to pull me out anyway to deal with a dragon."

"Rasnake," Tallant said, stepping forward slightly. "They keep calling you that. You must be damned good at killing dragons."

Cecil shrugged.

Milton looked near to tears. "I don't—Cecil what happened to you?"

"Twelve years happened to me," Cecil said coldly. "What, did you think that everything would be the same when you returned, Milly? That I'd be carving and drawing for you, and Irene would be sitting in a morning gown pretty as you please, both of us waiting patiently for the noble hero to return at last?"

"No," Milton said hotly, though Tallant knew he'd had something very much like that in mind. "I just…I've missed you. I thought you'd be happy to see me." He sounded hurt, confused. "I've thought about you every single day—"

"Then you should have written!" Cecil suddenly bellowed, slamming his hands against the bars of the cell. "You should not have waited twelve fucking years to bother returning. You're too fucking late! We don't need you and we sure as fuck don't want you."

"What happened to you, Cecil?" Milton asked, voice breaking, angrily brushing away the tears that slipped free.

Cecil gave that bitter laugh again. "If you think I'm bad, wait until you see Irene."

The sound of boots drew Tallant's attention, and he turned sharply, hand going to his sword—but relaxed when he saw it was one of the twins, in dry clothes now but with hair still damp. "Rasnake," the twin greeted, and then spoke to him in rapid-fire thieves' cant. Tallant could understand no more than one word in twenty, and that handful of words was not enough to get even the gist of the message.

"How the fuck do you know cant so well, and why are you hanging around with a bunch of criminals?" Milton demanded.

"There are precious few soldiers left, and when I needed help, they were here," Cecil said. "You weren't."

Milton fell silent, his mouth a tight line, shoulders tense.

Tallant frowned at Cecil. "I really don't think—"

"I don't care what you think," Cecil said, cutting him off. He turned back to the twin, and said something, to which the twin laughed in reply and then departed.

"What did he say?" Milton asked, sounding as though he did not expect an answer.

Cecil looked suddenly weary, leaning his head against the bars, curling his hands tightly around them. "They found another girl dead. They're bringing in the body now. It should be here in half an hour or so. It's Mary."

"Mary…not little Mary, who was three years old when I left," Milton said.

"The very same," Cecil replied, and pushed away from the bars, returning to slump in his dark corner.

Silence fell. Tallant had never seen Milton so unhappy. Tallant didn't know Cecil at all, but even he could see there was a world of hurt there, too. Before he could figure out what to say, Henry returned. "You're free to go, Rasnake," Henry said. "It happened exactly as you said—another girl is dead, and obviously you could not have done it. No offense, but I had hoped we would have to find another way to get you out of here."

"Me too," Cecil said, and stood as Henry unlocked the cell door and pulled it open. Without so much as a word or even a glance at Milton, Cecil strode from the tower.

Henry eyed Milton sympathetically. "I tried to warn you, son. That boy is badly broken. I think your presence will make a world of difference, however, once he gets past his hurt and pride. You'll see."

Tallant moved closer when Milton said nothing. "We'll fix this, Milton. I promise."

Milton shrugged, turned, and left the tower. Sighing, Tallant followed after him, and they made their way to where a small crowd of men had gathered in the back courtyard. Five of them, and all thieves. There was the twins, two men who looked about his age, another man a few years younger, and the last was at least a decade older.