Page 44 of Court of Treachery

She blinked herself back to the world. “Yes. Sure. I’m going to get something to eat.”

“Harper, wait up,” said Brand as he parried Erika’s strike. They disengaged and he ambled over, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His chest heaved with each breath. “Aedon and Erika, you spar. I’ll go with Harper. I need a drink.”

Aedon shrugged and turned to Erika—who frowned at Brand, eyed Harper, then whirled to block Aedon’s strike.

Brand walked beside Harper in silence to the all-day feast in the königshalle. The hall was busy, but not overly so. Many still trained at the various arenas around Keldheim. They each grabbed a bowl of stew and a beaker of water, then perched at the end of one of the long trestle tables.

Harper tucked in with gusto, savouring the rich meat and tangy spices, but Brand ate slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. “So,” he eventually prompted. “Will you tell me more?”

Harper met his gaze for a moment—serious and kind, as always—before looking away. “Only if you promise to hear meout and not change how you view me. I’m still the same person, just not sure how to make sense of any of this.”

“I swear it. I will not judge you.” Brand returned to his food.

The words tumbled out. Harper told him every detail of her vision. She remembered it with such vivid clarity, as if it had been permanently etched upon her mind. When she finished, Brand’s food sat forgotten as he gaped at her. She squirmed under his scrutiny and folded her arms.

“Well?” she asked, having no idea what she wanted him to say.

He shook his head, blowing out a loud gush of air. “In truth, I do not know what to say. I would not have believed it, but I know you would not lie about such a thing. How would you even know to?”

He shook his head and ran a large hand through his messy locks, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “So, you are Harper, daughter of Ilrune, granddaughter of Arven, great-granddaughter ofSaradon?”

She nodded.

“Wait… Who was the dragon rider you mentioned?”

Harper thought a moment. “Raedon, I think she said.”

Brand’s dark skin paled. “Are you certain?” he asked, a little too quickly to be casual.

“Yes. Why?” Her eyes narrowed.

Brand stared at her for a second, impassive. “We must tell the others.”

“Why?” Her voice rose an octave. Nearby dwarves turned their way, and she fought the volume down, and schooled the anguish from her face. “I’m not ready. I don’t even know how. Aedon will hate me, and Erika… Erika willworsethan hate me!”

“I will see that she doesn’t,” he growled. “And as for Aedon, you shouldn’t care.”

“I’m not ready to tell them,” she insisted.

“You must.”

She refused to lower her gaze this time. “I shan’t unless you tell me why.”

His eyes darted around. Their disagreement had begun to earn attention. He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “Raedon is the general of the Winged Kingsguard. He is also Aedon’s eldest brother.”

Harper gaped. “What?” she breathed.

“It’s true. You are… What? Twenty or so summers old? Raedon has been the general of the Winged Kingsguard since before you were born. It makes sense. He would have been personally tasked to exterminate the line of Ravakian, if no one except for Toroth and his predecessors knew it had endured.”

“Aedon’s brother killed my mother?” It could not be.

Brand nodded, his face grave. “And that is why we must tell him.”

Harper sat back, her own food forgotten, feeling sick to her stomach as the roaring of dragonfire consumed her once more. Yet again, she saw Ilrune’s lifeless body fall to the ground.

36

HARPER

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