Page 22 of Court of Treachery

Landry hoped she was right, but misgivings lurked in his stomach, and as he sat to eat, he chanced a look through the window. Another building in the city burned. The looters were out again.

I cannot send her away. I cannot let her stay. I cannot remain. I cannot leave.

The food tasted like ash in his mouth, and the walls felt too thin to protect them from the threats that lay too close to their door.

20

DIMITRI

Thick, choking smoke clogged the city. The plains before Tournai were blackened. From the upper reaches of the city, Dimitri watched the pyres burn, shaking with anger. Toroth had shown his hand. It only fuelled Dimitri’s desire to crush him. Hundreds from all walks of the city, from lords right down to the half-elf who owned the tavern by the gate, had burned. All for treason—and all innocents. All for rumours of Saradon, or criticism of the king’s own failures to keep the trade routes open.

The king had shown how fear and insecurity consumed him. Mere rumours and slights had doomed all those now who burned before the city. Despite Dimitri’s careful assurances that no direct names had been found, that the city was loyal to him, the king had gathered up anyone he had seen as a fitting target and condemned them. Death by dragonfire for all. The great, black dragon still wheeled above the city, as if surveying its handiwork with pride.

The full force of the Kingsguard flooded the city to keep peace, for the people revolted in their open fear, anger, and hate of the king. With the troubles, food was scarce—though not at the king’s table—and the mood volatile. A spark, ready toburst into flames. Dimitri only felt regret that ordinary folk—the downtrodden like him, who he had done all this for—had so far suffered more than the blasted king. He wondered whether the guilds would stand with him now. Soon, he promised himself. It was almost time. He could not wait for Saradon to sweep in and kill the king.

As he walked toward the great hall to attend the king, Raedon stormed the same way, visibly seething. No doubt because responsibility to keep the peace fell upon his shoulders, yet it seemed to be an evermore impossible task. Inspiration struck him.

“General!” Dimitri called across the courtyard, for Raedon strode so quickly, head down, that he had not noticed the king’s spymaster. Raedon stopped and looked up. His scowl deepened when he saw who had summoned him, then he turned away, striding off once more.

“Wait.”

Raedon did not stop, and Dimitri was forced to run after him, much to his annoyance. He stepped in front of Raedon, forcing the general of the Winged Kingsguard to halt.

“What do you want, spymaster?” growled Raedon. “Get out of my way.” His voice carried across the still air.

“Meet me in the rose garden at the next bell if you want to find out,” murmured Dimitri.

He strode away without looking back. He did not need to in order to know Raedon was hooked by curiosity, because he had not moved. He would come. Dimitri was certain of it.

Raedon stalked between the bushes. He had removed his distinctive red cloak and ceremonial garb, and wore only hisusual scuffed, working leathers. He cast a striking contrast to Dimitri’s smooth, black robes. Tousled, sweaty hair, fresh from his patrol of the city, compared to Dimitri’s coiffed elegance.

“What do you want?” His voice was flat as he stood a healthy distance away, arms folded, eyeing Dimitri with distaste.

Dimitri ignored his rudeness. Relief prickled between his shoulder blades that the general had heeded his summons, but safety was not his yet. “The Kingsguard is struggling. I hear attacks upon the red cloaks have increased this week. I am correct, no?”

Raedon’s deepening scowl was his only answer, but it was enough.

“Worry not. We are warded. This is a conversation that ought not be overheard.” Thick rose bushes enclosed the small, round, paved courtyard in a cocoon of privacy. None would see them there.

Raedon frowned, but he did not speak. Dimitri surmised Raedon was curious enough to at least hear him out.

“The king is not himself,” said Dimitri evenly. “You have noticed, yes?”

Raedon did not move for a long moment, then nodded sharply.

“And, naturally, it is your job to clean up this mess. It will get worse after today, you know.” Dimitri referred to the burnings.

Raedon gritted his teeth and muttered something under his breath, his hands flexing as though they longed to clench into fists.

Dimitri leaned forward. “Hmm?”

“Fool, I said. Damned bloodyfool!” Raedon seemed to feel better for being able to curse the king aloud—and now his hands were fists, and they shook.

“Yes. It was ill thought out. I did what I could to prevent it, but of late, he sees threats where none exist. It’s as if he thinksthe very shadows are out to get him.” At Raedon’s incredulous look, Dimitri nodded. “I swear it. I tried to avoid this, but you know how wilful he is. Once an idea takes him, a dragon could not pry it from his grasp.”

Raedon grumbled his agreement. “What do you want, Spymaster?”

“I extend an offer of alliance toward you, General. We might not like each other, but we can work together.”

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