Page 50 of Court of Treachery

“Why would Dimitrius be with him?” Harper asked, an edge of desperation cutting through her voice that she crushed immediately, lest it betray her. “Is he a prisoner?” A part of her wanted to think the best of him. He had been kind to her, after all. Saved her. Let her escape. And that he was a hint of the person she had started to see behind his reputation—not that themasks were the truth of him after all, and she had been so foolish as to fall for the deception that he was anything but calculating and evil.

Erika snorted scornfully. “Did helooklike a captive to you? No. He’s connected somehow. I’ll wager he’s a part of it. I wonder if this is the king’s doing, or whether Toroth has any idea.”

“Shall we ask him?” Aedon asked, raising his eyebrow and flashing a scowl that quickly faded. “I know. I know. Just jesting. It’s over our heads. This is an age-old war between the goblins and dwarves. We take no part in it. I would wager it’s an old feud between elves of the royal line, too, since Saradon seems to be very much alive again. We take no part in that, either. We need to get Ragnar mended, then get out of here. Maybe it’s time for us to try lands to the east, across the mountains, for a while.” When his glance caught on Harper, he swallowed, quickly looking away.

She raised an eyebrow. She still felt the void between them, despite their cooperation during the rescue in Afnirheim. It had been easier to distract herself when faced with a horde of goblins. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of that. “You’re worried my connection to him will jeopardize us all.”

His lack of a reply was all she needed. Her lip curled, even as indignation burned in her throat. It was true—now she worried for a different reason, that somehow, she was corrupt as a result of her heritage. It didn’t bear thinking about now she had seen the company Saradon kept and what they did for fun with their prisoners. To her surprise, Erika stepped in before she had a chance to retort, even though she was not entirely convinced he was wrong.

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Aedon.” Erika folded her arms. “She’s not suddenly going to turn into a bad apple one day on account of her blood. I’d know. I haven’t turned into a wildsavage despite my poor stock, have I?” She narrowed her eyes, as if daring him to reply. He did not. She smirked and flashed Harper a wink. “Exactly. She’ll fail or succeed, and it won’t have a damn thing to do with who she’s related to.”

Harper blinked. Since when had Erika been so amiable? She caught Brand’s quickly hidden smile. “Well, since we’re going to agree to give her the benefit of the doubt, can we eat? I’m famished,” the big Aerian complained.

I think I’m one of them now.All it had taken was a horde of goblins and an evil elf for a great-grandfather. It sounded so ridiculous, she could have laughed. Life had changed so much in such a short span of time—mere months—since the Dragonheart had spirited her away from Caledan.

Ragnar moaned faintly. All their attention turned to him, even Brand, stomach forgotten. Slowly, he twitched. His lips moved soundlessly. His eyes fluttered open, blinking once, twice, thrice, before he opened them and stared up at the ceiling.

“Welcome back, old friend,” Aedon said softly. Harper placed her hand upon the coverlet.

Ragnar’s smile widened as he beheld them all. “I’m alive?” he croaked.

“You are indeed, master dwarf,” Brand said. Harper could have sworn she saw a tear in the big Aerian’s eye before he blinked it away.

Ragnar lifted his hand to grasp Harper’s, but his face fell as he beheld his bandaged digits. He swallowed.

“It’s all right, Ragnar. Everything will be fine,” Aedon said, his tone low and soothing. “Don’t worry about that just yet. You’re healing well. That’s all that matters.”

Ragnar swallowed and nodded. He lowered his hand back to the coverlet. But he did not tear his gaze away from the bandage. “What happened?”

Aedon, ever the storyteller, recounted their escapades since the moment Ragnar had been taken, including Harper’s visit to Vanir and the visions at the Mother’s wellspring. When he finished, the question hung on everyone’s lips, but no one asked—what had happened to Ragnar?

“Thank you, friends,” Ragnar said heavily. “But for you, I would be certainly dead once they had no more use for me. I can hardly believe what has passed—for all of us.” He glanced at Harper as he said it.

“What was it like?” Erika’s eyes burned with emotion.

Ragnar swallowed. “I cannot speak of it. It is too much. But the elf, Saradon, is alive!” Ragnar tried to sit up, but he was so weak that he could barely lift himself off the bed.

“The könig knows,” Aedon said, pressing Ragnar down, sending glowing magic into him as he groaned in pain and paled. “Korrin is determined to retake Afnirheim eventually. I am sure this will make him all the more determined, but perhaps, knowing who his enemy is, he will be careful.”

“If I were him, I would send envoys to Toroth,” Brand said.

“Certainly,” Aedon acknowledged. “Saradon is not an enemy I would want to face alone.”

“I will have to attend Korrin.” Ragnar sounded reluctant.

“You can afford to delay. You must heal first,” Brand said. “Korrin and your duties can wait. He has what is needed in hand, and that is what matters for your kin at present.”

“Yes. We must get you fighting fit once more, friend. Ragnar Three-Fingers is a fearsome nickname, in any case. You’ll certainly earn some ales with that battle scar.” Aedon grinned at him, trying to cheer him up.

Ragnar smiled weakly, unconvinced, but hehadsmiled. Relief filled Harper that they had found him, and that he was alive and would be well in time. Yet, it was tinged with something darker, more volatile, and heavier in the face of allthat she now knew—all that now tangled together, crushing the breath from her chest as she fought rising overwhelm. Aedon’s own brother had executed her mother. Worse still, Harper was Saradon’s kin—and Dimitri was his ally.

41

HARPER

The königshalle was deathly silent. All heads turned to look at them as they entered. Or, rather, look at Harper. She would have quailed before the collected attention of the stern dwarven jarls, still clad in their intimidating armours, had she not been flanked by Erika and Brand. Aedon led them. Ragnar still lay in the infirmary.

“My cousin does not join you?” König Korrin greeted them, raising his bushy eyebrows. They placed their fists to their chests and bowed as one.

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