Page 37 of Court of Treachery

“Yes, Lord Ravakian. It balances upon a knife’s edge.”

As Dimitri reported his work, a growing sense of dread crept through him. He wished he had been less successful at sowing discord, that the curse had been less virulent so he could have bought more time to figure out how to navigate the mess he now suspected he was in—and that he had unintentionally wrought on the kingdom he sought to strengthen. The irony was not lost upon him, and it tasted too bitter to bear.

“The king hovers on the edge of madness. The queen is almost dead. Even the riders of the Winged Kingsguard are falling. The people are troublesome and ripe for revolt. They are a spark, ready to catch ablaze when the time comes. They have no love for the king, and more spread word of how misunderstood and tarnished your name is.”

Saradon clapped his hands together, the sound booming around the space, and let out a delighted peal of laughter. “Excellent! Clearly, I could not have entrusted this task to anyone more suited.” His grim satisfaction was clear.

“So the goblins are unneeded, yes? The people will be enough? I also have the Winged Kingsguard in hand,” Dimitri pressed, his eyes flicking to the blood-stained stone at his feet and back to Saradon.

He dismissed him with a wave. “You must trust me, Lord Ellarian. Do not doubt my plans.” He rose from the throne and walked to Dimitri, standing before him. He raised a hand to Dimitri’s shoulder and rested it there for a second. His violet eyes pierced him to the core. Dimitri strengthened his mental defences, ready for attack, but none came. “Remember our visions of Pelenor.”

Green, peaceful, and prosperous… Dimitri could hardly forget, for it felt like a world apart from that now.

Saradon continued, “we are far from that. Peace always comes with the cost of bloodshed, but we shall see it done. From coast to coast, I will reign over a land so fair that none will seek to change it. I must go now. We have more allies to muster.”

Saradon’s gaze still pierced him, and Dimitri could not look away. He felt strangely hot and flustered. Dimitri blinked away the sudden haziness. “More allies? Who? Where?” he asked sharply.

“The Indis nomads were ever stalwart allies to my cause.”

Dimitri could not hold back a bark of laughter. “You will find no aid there.”

Saradon raised an eyebrow.

“The Indis nomads were hunted almost to extinction after their uprising for your cause. Even now, those few remaining are hidden from the world. I do not think you will find them welcoming.”

Saradon smiled, a lazy curl of his lips. “Then you are a fool—and I would not think that of you. All the more reason for them to join me.Revenge. We seek it ourselves, no? It is a powerful motivator. They harbour hate for those who persecuted them—not I. They will come to my cause, whatever their numbers.”

You are so sure?Dimitri questioned, but he did not dare voice it.

With a widening of his predatory smile, Saradon vanished into the ether.

Dimitri left a moment later, his heart pounding as he processed what he had found in Afnirheim—utter destruction. He had no desire to be in the halls of the dead with only goblins and death for company.

30

HARPER

The königshalle was silent as Jarl Halvar’s voice stalled. It seemed that not a soul breathed. Even the könig sat in dumbfounded silence.

“It cannot be so,” König Korrin finally said, a hint of hope to his voice that perhaps the jarl was mistaken.

“I am afraid there can be no mistaking it, König.” Halvar’s voice was hollow as he bowed to Korrin.

Aedon shifted but did not speak. His glance flicked to Harper, standing some feet away, before returning to the dwarven king.

Why isn’t he speaking up?Harper could not fathom why Aedon did not talk. He had said it was urgent that the king know what she had seen in her vision. She stepped forward to take the matter into her own hands, but Brand’s heavy hand upon her shoulder stayed her. She twisted to look at him, frowning at his warning glare. He shook his head infinitesimally, and she fell back into line beside him. His hand fell away.

It seemed an age before their conversation faltered and Jarl Halvar’s attention strayed to Aedon, who he regarded with a troubled frown. Aedon had shared her vision with him in confidence. “There is something else I must discuss with you.”

“Speak,” Korrin said.

“If I may, König, this matter is for your ears only. Our guests bring grave tidings of their own.”

Korrin looked over them all, drumming his fingers upon the arm of his stone throne. “Very well. Clear the hall.” His fingers increased their drumming until the very last dwarf had left the space. When the doors boomed shut, he looked at Jarl Halvar. “Well? You have the floor.”

“It’s best if the elf shows you, König.”

Korrin nodded. Aedon moved toward the throne, stopping a respectful distance away and bowing. He closed his eyes, and judging by Korrin’s suddenly clenched jaw, Harper knew he now shared her vision. His mouth gaped soon after. Perhaps he now soared through the broken halls in his mind that she had seen. Harper felt a sick swoop in her stomach at the memory. Finally, Aedon bowed and stepped back, and Korrin’s white, tattooed knuckles, clenched upon the arms of his throne, loosened at last.

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