Page 69 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

Her house sits along the outskirts of the city beyond the glowing lanterns lining the main roads that run parallel to the river. By the time we approach the small cottage, the sun sinks below the horizon, glimmering on the darkening ocean water. A small, reinforced steel lantern hangs above a rounded wooden door. More warm light shines from within the cottage, visible through a little window beside the front door.

We dismount, keeping our horses close when we do. Savell, Ronan, and Kheldryn hang back, while Gryska and Orim seem more comfortable approaching the house.

“So, um,” Orim says, glancing between Asheros and I. “Is one of you going to knock, or…?”

“I’ll do it,” I say.

Asheros’s head snaps to me, his mouth parts as if to protest.

I continue, not affording him the opportunity. “Arella will recognize me from High Keep. She’ll be more likely to speak with us if she’s met with a familiar face.”

Asheros closes his mouth, unease flickering across his brow.

“It’s fine,” I tell him with a pat to his arm. “No need to get all protective.”

For a moment, his brows furrow, then immediately relax. His expression softens in a silent “Of course.”

“Well, then,” Gryska huffs, placing her hands on her hips. “Get to it before night falls, would ya?”

Pressing my lips together to suppress a chuckle, I approach the door to the cottage and raise my fist to knock. But before my fingers meet wood, the door swings open, revealing a soft, round face.

It takes me a moment, then the familiarity washes over me. Arella and I didn’t cross paths often, but when we did, I remember her being quiet and softspoken.

Her eyes widen at the sight of me. “Captain? Uh, I mean—” she coughs “—Lady Wynterliff?” Dark eyes glance behind me to the others in my company. “What business do you have with me?”

“I’d like to ask you some questions.” I pause, unsure of the best way to phrase what it is I’ve come to ask her. “About—”

“The late High King’s death.” Her eyes briefly close, brows wrought with the kind of agony that comes from memories one can never escape from. She takes a breath and then meets my gaze. “I’ve already spoken with Captain Vilsdottyr.”

“Captain Vilsdottyr?” Asheros asks gently.

“My successor, Sura. She’s a friend,” I tell him over my shoulder. “She led the investigation after I left.”

“There’s nothing I can tell you now that I haven’t already told her,” Arella says, looking past me.

“I know.” I soften my voice. “Captain Vilsdottyr and I are grateful for your assistance. But I must ask for your help one more time.”

Unease works at Arella’s mouth, and her petite frame seems to curve into herself.

Asheros shifts his weight closer, touching his palm to the small of my back in a supportive gesture.

“Lord Larmanne and I are doing all we can to keep the kingdom safe,” I tell Arella, gesturing to Asheros.

Her dark gaze turns to him and then back at me, her expression still riddled with anxiety. Asheros’s thumb brushes against my back in circular motions, bringing me a comfort I didn’t know I needed.

“To do that, we need to know what happened that night.” Empowered, I pause and lock my eyes with hers. “I know you’re afraid, Arella. I know relieving those memories, even for a short time, will be painful. But I wouldn’t ask this of you unless it was the only way to save the kingdom from ruin.”

Chewing her bottom lip, Arella is silent for what seems like a long while. Then she takes a deep breath, and steps backward, as if to let us pass.

“All right,” she says, looking at me. “All of you can come in.”

Chapter Twenty

Stepping into the house, I keep my movements as casual as possible, making myself appear less threatening. For Kheldryn and Savell, the quiet swiftness comes naturally, and even Gryska and Ronan attempt to lighten their steps. Though, unlike Ronan, the burly female’s not quite successful, clambering through the narrow threshold with an awkward smile.

Despite it having been over a month since the late High King’s murder, fear still bleeds from Arella, thick and flowing like an open wound. As it would, I imagine, for anyone who’d witnessed a brutal murder, especially the murder of one of the most powerful males in Inatia.

I clench my teeth. The sooner I find Viridian’s father’s killer, the sooner I can eliminate the threat to his reign and potentially his life. I’d be a fool to think that whoever killed Vorr wouldn’t go to the same lengths again to clear what they might perceive as an obstacle in their path. They’ve already killed one king. What’s one more?

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