Page 127 of Vicious Knight

“Thorne…”

He turns back to face me. “You thought the scar-faced was a Knight?”

“He had the tattoos. I know he was a Knight.” I didn’t know it was possible for Thorne to turn pale, but he has.

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m positive. I remember everything I saw that night.” My breath catches as my lungs constrict from the angst wrapping around them. “That man was a Knight, and he was responsible for the attack. That’s why I believe my father is innocent. He was set up.”

“If that’s true… then your father really had nothing to do with the massacre at the palace or the plot to kill my family two years before.”

“No. He didn’t.”

His head drops for a moment, then his gaze climbs back up to meet mine. “I’ve seen the scar-faced man, too.”

I stand now and stare at him, shock slamming into my body. “You have? Where?”

“He was at my home in Russia on the night of the attack. I hid in the closet and watched him carve out the hearts of my guards. But I didn’t see his tattoos. So I never knew he was a Knight.”

“Oh my God.” My body feels like lead. Like it might topple over from the weight of this revelation and never move again.

“It’s the same guy, Ivy. He said those same words. Valin mortilum dohaliues.”

Chapter 29

Thorne

Shock tangles with the truth, electrifying the space between us.

Ivy stares back at me and I at her. She’s right there, paces away, but it feels like she’s on the other side of the moon.

I’d thought that perhaps she wanted to look at the database to see what evidence it held against her father.

No way would I have ever imagined this. That she saw the scar-faced man, too. And she didn’t just see him. She’s provided some of the missing pieces that has mystified many, including me, for years.

The scar-faced man is a Knight, and those words…

Those words valin mortilum dohaliues are the ones I couldn’t remember.

It feels strange to hear them now and cast my mind back to my eight-year-old self.

I forgot the words—or whatever the hell they are—but now I’m sure of them.

I’m sure those were the same words the scar-faced man spoke as he carved out the hearts of my guards.

Hearing those words flow from Ivy’s lips was like remembering an old tune that was locked away in my memory but always remained a part of me.

Ivy is like the missing piece of my brain. She held memories that I don’t have yet.

I share too many coincidences with this girl. This is one more thing.

Although she may not remember the words exactly, when you know what something sounds like you can always try to find out what it is.

Over the years I couldn’t even do that.

How did she remember and I didn’t?

Maybe the answer is as simple as that. She did and I did not.

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