Page 39 of An Honored Vow

“No. Not like that.” Riven cleared his throat. “I’m terrified of Nik dying without coming home but I am more scared of him living and never forgiving me.” Riven peered up at me. “Is that selfish?”

“A little,” I answered, smoothing his hair. “But I don’t think it’s wrong. You want to make things right, Riven. Your heart is true even if it’s a little wanting.”

He laid his head on my lap. “Did you get the sleeping draught?”

I pulled a small case out of my pocket. “I had Rheih increase the dosage.”

Riven grunted. He opened the case to reveal two small darts inside. “You’re certain you don’t need more help tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “You get Kairn out, and Dynara and I will take care of the rest.”

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

THE ROAD INTOCERELIATHwasn’t lined with the hungry but with soldiers. Rows of tents filled the harvested fields as a makeshift barracks. My jaw clenched. Aemon never had money to house the people dying outside of the city’s walls yet the Crown’s armies were well covered.

And well stocked from the piles of food and weapons at the center of the tents. A group of young soldiers stood with their armor half on, wrestling over the last piece of meat. The older soldiers sat, sloshing their ale as they cheered.

The men had been here for almost a fortnight with nothing to do but patrol. They were like starved dogs, vying for a fight.

But I wouldn’t give it to them.

Yet.

The soldiers paid me no notice as I walked by on the King’s Road. I smirked. Riven had insisted on using a glamour but I knewmy disguise would be enough. My dress was tattered and covered in mud and manure. I led an ass I had stolen from a nearby field on bare feet and filled its saddle basket with the rotten fruit left in its slough.

I lifted an empty tin toward the soldiers walking on the road, covering my eyes with the hood of my moth-eaten cloak. One averted his eyes, too disgusted to look at me, while the other spat at my feet. Neither suspected that the deadliest blade in the kingdom had just asked them for coin.

I hid my smirk all the way into the city center.

A cast-iron thread and needle hung over the entrance of the house. My knock resounded off the metal-plated door like a rock falling to the bottom of a well. Mistress Augustine did not entertain her guests at the main house, but it was where her most prized girls stayed.

I straightened. There was no noise on the other side of the door. I knocked again and glanced down the street to make sure no one was taking too much notice.

Footsteps so soft no Mortal would be able to hear them approached the door, but it didn’t open. I leaned closer.

One heartbeat. I cleared my throat of its rasp. “I’m here to see Miss Dynara. We have an appointment.”

The breathing on the other side of the door stopped. I reached for the thin dagger holstered under my skirts.

The door opened to reveal an elegant woman, her gray hair pulled back into a bun without a strand misplaced. The years had turned her hard-lined mouth into a permanent frown and spotted her pale hands. She wore gold rings endowed with impressive jewels of every color so her hands were always grasping her riches. She collected young and beautiful Halflings in the same way, holding them and their youth close as hers faded with every passing day.

None of this surprised me. I’d had many encounters with Mistress Augustine during my tenure as Blade. Her theater was a notorious place for traitors and power-hungry lords to get a bit too drunk and a bit too loud.

What surprised me was seeing her at all. Last I’d heard, she was dead.

Poisoned by Dynara herself.

I bowed my head. “Mistress Augustine.”

A smug smile grew along her face. It seemed unnatural for her features, like her mouth was moving in ways it never had before.

“Let her in before she’s seen,” a familiar voice called from the landing of the wide staircase. Dynara stood at the top of the stairs, her silk robe draped effortlessly over her shoulders and her hair pinned in curls around her head.

Mistress Augustine chuckled and opened the door wide enough for me to slip in.

I looked between the Mistress and Dynara, not sure what I should say. “Not exactly the attire I was expecting, D.”

“Not all of us need to use a blade to cause trouble.” Mistress Augustine folded her arms and leaned against the banister. “Though I’m glad I only have to rely on my wits this evening and don’t need to bathe myself in essence.” She sniffed pointedly at the scent of lavender and dew rose that wafted from Dynara’s slick skin.

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