Page 87 of To Bleed A Kingdom

“That's not much help,” Amara says, tapping her fingers on her hips. “Might as well walk through the front door.”

Bobbing my head, I say in all seriousness, “At the rate we're going, we just might.”

A laugh bursts from Amara. “It’d definitely make a statement.”

“What else?” I ask Tristan, hoping he can give me more than the nothing he's given me thus far.

“Nothing.” Staring up at the moons, he scans our surroundings once again. “But I haven't had the opportunity or time to investigate the royals’ private chambers just yet.”

“Make time,” I snap, much harsher than I intended. “We’re running out of time as it is,” I add in a softer tone, though it is no less commanding.

My boots swish through the grass as I return to the wall, halting my steps when I feel the waves of heat blast into me from the funnel of flames. Dropping my head back, I stare up at the Breccans’ assault once more, my eyes rapid firing from one claw mark to the next with the same chaos jarring my mind.

This is important. I know it is. Every instinct tells me I have all the information I need. I have all the pieces to the puzzle, but they’re all jumbled and each time I attempt to slip them into place, they refuse to mesh.

Narrowing my eyes, I step forward into the pyramid of flames and am instantly devoured by the roaring beast. Feeling nothing but a warm caress, I trace my fingers across a claw mark several spans wide as I imagine that very same mark inflicted on an immortal. On how that injury would be instantly fatal to the powerful beings. Regardless of my task, that's something I can’t allow. I refuse to. Even if it’s before I find who I've been tasked to seek.

Where are you, you son of a bitch?

The flames release their embrace as I stalk towards my companions. “Have any of you acquired any information that could possibly lead to who is working with Brecca?” Iask, and they all shake their heads in answer. Jaw locked, I meet each individual gaze, my amethyst eyes stressing the urgency of our situation. “We have to find him. Him, her, them.” I flick a hand. “Whoever the fuck it is, I don’t care. I just want them found. Now.”

“It has to be a royal or a noble,” Amara says as she sits down on the grass, crossing her legs.

“I'm leaning more towards a royal,” Zander adds, rubbing his chin. “Nobles may appear to be held in high esteem, but they don't have access to the guards, and none are on Adelphia's council.”

My interest piques with this information. “Who is on her council?”

“Only the Captain of the Queen’s Guard and her children.”

“What about Theon's wife?” I scrunch up my face, trying to remember the female’s name. “Kiora?”

“That’s her,” Zander says. “But she's not on the council.”

Interesting. If I was a princess destined to be Queen, I don't think I’d be too pleased with the idea of not being part of the current one's inner council.

“Could she be the one working with the Breccans?” Amara voices my own thoughts, plucking at the grass.

“Unlikely,” Tristan replies with a sneer. “She prefers to spend her time drinking and fucking her way through court.”

Amara snorts. “Sounds like a happy marriage.”

“From my understanding, the heir is oblivious to her promiscuous activities,” Tristan says, peering over his shoulder with an anxious tap of his boot.

“Could it be the heir?” I ask.

Tristan's tapping ceases. “No. from everything I’ve learned about him, he's an honorable male.”

“It could be Darius or Aurora,” Amara proposes.

“No,” Tristan and I answer in unison.

Zander and Amara share a look before Zander speaks in a gentler tone. “I know it may be difficult to believe such a thing about someone you care about,” he says, his gaze darting between me and Tristan. “But it could be either of them.”

Pursing his lips, Tristan balls his fists in fury, ruby flecked darkness pouring into the swirled marking on his cheek as he lunges for Zander.

I snatch at his forearm and drag him behind me, feeling unnerved at the role reversal when I give him a warning look.“I've searched both Aurora’s and Darius’ auras,” I say, returning my attention to Zander once I’m sure Tristan has calmed. “It’s not them.”

“You're sure?” Zander asks, his expression dubious at best.