Page 31 of The Empty Throne

Cohea's lip curled. As captain, the manshould be doingsomething.

He walked up to them, sword out, and usedtheir frozen surprise to kill the first two, and it didn't takemuch more effort to kill the remaining two.

Leaving only the captain.

"Give me my hammer," Cohea said, voice ascold as the weather around them.

With shaking hands, the man obeyed, removingthe hammer from its sling on his back and holding it out.

Abandoning his sword, Cohea took the hammer,some of his tumult easing to feel its familiar weight onceagain.

"Why… why did you do all this?" the captainasked, sounding much like the man in the kitchen. "They said youwere…"

"You people have to stop thinking honorablemeans nice," Cohea replied, and swung the hammer, crushing theman's skull, killing him instantly.

Honorable didn't mean nice, or even kind.Honorable meant he'd do his best to avoid things like violence,pain, and so forth. It also meant that when those things couldn'tbe avoided, he'd deal them out quickly and with little to no fuss.Because he hated it. All of it. He just wanted a peaceful lifewhere no one was really hurt.

He would never understand why Bittersea tookso muchjoyin this. Why he sighed over spilled blood theway most people sighed over a good meal or a new cloak.

"Some things aren't for us to understand.They're just for us to accept."

Cohea took back the harness for the harmerand strapped it into place before taking the man's cloak as well.After that, he searched the bodies rapidly vanishing beneath thesnow for better fitting boots.

When he was finally done with all that andhad ensured the inn fire had lost to the weather, he trekked offthrough the village until he found the stable. Thankfully, the lockon the gate was easily broken, and his belongings were exactlywhere he'd left them.

As much as the weather forbade travel, hedidn't have much choice. Someone would be coming after him, andsooner rather than later, so it was time to go.

Strapping on snowshoes, he trudged off intothe dark, only a shaky lantern to light his way. Thankfully, hecould follow the sound of the ocean, and from there had his pick offishing boats to steal. He didn't like doing such a rotten thing topeople who relied on these boats for their literal existence, butthey wouldn't be needing them anytime soon, and he'd see themcompensated generously once this nightmare ended.

Freeing the boat from the dock, he pushed itout slightly, jumped in, and went to work on the sails. Being outon the water in this weather was a fool's game, but he had nochoice.

And he was nothing if not a gods-damnedfool.

Ten

They reached the Kuluris estate in the deadof night, amidst a howling wind that tossed the snow in a hundreddirections at once. Even Kite was frozen solid, and he had alwaysbeen of a hardy nature. Next to him, shivering so hard thechattering of his teeth echoed through the dead, dark halls, Lysawas barely able to stand upright.

Holding him close, anger rose up at howfrailLysa was, when a boy his age, of such privilege andstatus, should be stronger, healthier. If Cohea didn't kill Fazekasfirst, Kite most definitely would.

"This place feels strange," Lysa said throughhis chattering. "Like a tomb."

"It may as well be," Kite replied as heushered Lysa into the first room with a fireplace. The guardsflowed in around him, one immediately setting to work lighting afire, the others removing all the dust cloths on the furniture.

By some fortune, or rather misfortune, he'dpicked the study, library, whatever it had been called. The roomwhere he'd found Bittersea's father in literal pieces, and so muchblood he could still smell it, even though it was all longgone.

There was plenty of room for them all tosleep here, chairs and tables, the enormous fireplace, and if theydidn't have any luck securing firewood, there were plenty of booksto burn.

Once the fire was going, Kite stripped offtheir frozen outer layers and got Lysa settled, staying close andlending body heat until Lysa stopped shivering. "Better?" he askedsoftly.

Instead of replying, Lysa let out a barelyaudible sigh and slumped right into Kite, head resting on hisshoulder. Kite froze, started to call for help—and then realizedthat Lysa had simply fallen asleep. He swallowed, not liking theodd surge of protectiveness that rushed through him.

Why shouldn't he feel protective, though?Because Lysa was 'the enemy'? That was stupid. He was a young man,barely more than a boy, only just turned twenty-three according toSobeki's research. Thirteen years younger than Kite. He was toosmall, too frail, for his age and build. He was dying of a terriblecurse put there by hisfather, and had marks on his facethat most people didn't earn until nearly twice Lysa's age.

Someone should have been protecting him thiswhole damned time, and if his family wasn't going to do it, thenKite would, and Terek could suffer the consequences of their grossstupidity.

Holy Shatar, he must be more exhausted thanhe realized to be so angry and tangled up over this.

Lysa shivered against him, moaning in hissleep, something that sounded like a sad plea. Kite reached upslowly and rested a hand in his hair, curling his fingers into it,and Lysa immediately relaxed again, burrowing further against hisshoulder.

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