Page 150 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

But as I raised my eyes from the map, my gaze landed on the two portraits across from me.

I had brought my map into the tower, in the room full of paintings. It was the best place in the castle to get anything done, to think, free of prying eyes and questions.

The paintings of carnage reminded me of why I was here, why I had chosen this. The only problem was the portraits, though I couldn’t bring myself to move them.

Sitting side by side, I was reminded of the fairy tale again. The perfect couple. The prince and princess, a scene from a story.

I glanced at the man immortalized in paint, and snorted.

“You were too stupid to understand the weight on your shoulders,” I told him. “Too short-sighted to contemplate just how heavy it would be.”

He said nothing, of course. Even if it wasn’t just a canvas, that man was long gone.

Painted Cirri just smiled at me. Telling me to do what I had to do.

I exhaled, tearing my eyes from the portraits and putting my mind back to use where it was needed. This was no time to ponder past mistakes.

“East,” I murmured, touching the map. The fortresses would have legions to defend them. Hakkon would expect me to scoutnorth to south, and back again; instead I would take the fight directly to him, pick off the young wargs one by one, thin his numbers.

The door to the tower crashed open, far below. At first, I felt a flicker of pleasure at the idea of seeing my wife, but those were not her footsteps on the stairs.

I swiveled an ear, listening to the echoes bouncing off the stone walls. A pair of feet in hobnailed boots, stomping steadily; a softer pair, scuffing along, mumbled protests.

The upstairs door slammed open next, and I was greeted with the sight of Visca, her blue eyes blazing cold fury, one of the maids held in front of her, her arms twisted behind her back.

I squinted at the girl… Ellena. Her hair was wild, a gag tied around her mouth. She stared at me, wide-eyed, struggling against Visca’s iron grip.

My commander marched the girl forward, heedless of her useless protests.

“Here we are, then,” Visca said, and her voice was cheerful in a way that meant blood was coming.

“What is all this?” I eyed Ellena warily. Cirri didn’t like her, but she wouldn’t take well to one of the women she’d worked with being manhandled.

“This—” Visca kneed the maid in the thigh, hard, and Ellena went to her knees with a muffled cry. “Is the reason everyone in Tristone is dead.”

I looked from Visca, her face taut with anger, to Ellena.

Ellena, a useless, spoiled girl. She could hardly handle mucking out the stables.

How could she be responsible for such a thing?

“Explain.”

Visca held Ellena’s arm with one hand, brushing her hair out of her face with the other. “I decided to dig around a little after that mess. The steward mentioned an unusual volume ofletters going out from one person. The next time the courier came around, I questioned him. Ellena started with a few letters to Argent, addressed to the Cathedral. And then she started sending letters elsewhere.”

I nodded, still not seeing how this childish maid related in any way. “Perhaps she has family.”

Visca stared at me. “Come now, lad, do I strike you as the type to overreact?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Very well, then, let me say my piece and you can be the judge.” Visca pulled Ellena’s arm a little tighter. “So I had a little peek for myself before the next round of letters went out. And what was it, hmm?” She nudged Ellena in the back with her knee. “Was it sweet nothings to lovers, happy tidings for family members?”

Ellena was breathing hard, snorting air through her nose over the gag. She tried to pull away, whimpering wordlessly.

“Of course it wasn’t,” Visca said sweetly. “It wasmaps. It was the location of our legions, with fairly accurate numbers. It was the details of the security kept on Cirrien lai Darran, not to mention quite the dossier on her lineage and family’s estates. It was details on our schedules, where you or the Lady can be found in the keep.”

A touch of frost crept over my heart. “Who were these letters addressed to?”

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