Page 52 of Court of Treachery

“Yes,” Korrin said grimly. “Can we count upon your arms?” From their conversations on dwarven culture, Harper knew guests could not be called upon to fight, even for as much use as the four of them had already been in Afnirheim.

“Yes,” said Erika with grim determination. “You could not keep me away from that foe.” Harper felt nauseated by the pledge. She did not want to return to those halls.

Judging by his curious frown, Korrin wondered at her words, but nodded and thanked them before turning back to his jarls to discuss the finer points of their strategy. Harper and her companions drifted closer to listen to talk of war. All the while, anxiety built within her. To speak of a return to Afnirheim was bad enough, but now she knew what awaited—goblins, Saradon, and Dimitrius.

Harper had had enough talk of war, goblins, and Saradon. Her head echoed with it, jarring her already overwhelming headache. She needed fresh air. Jarl Halvar had pointed her to the way out—after a fashion—whilst the others ate. There was no true outside space in Keldheim, but it would do. Harper had trekked up the winding stairs until the void appeared. Spanning the void between two jutting peaks that joined obscure parts of the rear of Keldheim, the bridge was utterly open to the elements, yet so isolated as to be impregnable by outside forces unless dragons were involved.

Harper recognised the area. She was near where they had left Keldheim through the thirl door. She stepped onto the stone bridge, to be immediately buffeted by a cool gust of late afternoon wind. Already, the sun fell toward the horizon and had long disappeared behind the peaks, though the peach skies told her it had not yet set outside the mountains. Even so, she leaned on the waist-high stone wall, grateful for the fresh air that helped to banish the staleness from her mind… and all horror of Saradon’s threat. The wind receded, leaving her in a pocket of stillness, though she still wrapped herself in the warmth her magic afforded. Harper admired the view, not thinking about anything for just a few moments. Below her, rushing water was all she could hear. Vanir’s wellspring, she realised, or rather, where it emerged from the mountain.

A familiar, sharp, fruity aroma laced with musk hit her a moment before the realisation of who that belonged to. Eyes wide, she whirled around to see a figure emerge onto the bridge.

42

HARPER

The yawning shadows of the fading day made Dimitrius look drawn and worried. They pooled in the hollows under his eyes and carved gauntness into his cheeks. But it was his eyes that stopped her dead because they burned with such intensity—and the way his attention fixed so singularly upon her that it made the world fall away.

“How did you…” Her voice trailed off as her chest tightened. His citrus and musk scent surrounded her, and with every step that drew him closer, she trembled more. His presence was all-consuming.

“Miss me?” He smirked at her, cocking his head. For a second, the raw need in his eyes vanished as his mask slipped into place. The cocky, arrogant spymaster she had first met.

Her gape turned into an indignant scowl as fury fired inside her. “Never!” Fury was good. Fury was safe. Honed like a blade of fire, it carved and burned away this thing that threatened to engulf her, because to have him so close, to be reminded of the intoxicating power of his presence… oh, what she had thought she had felt towards him had only grown in his absence, and she despised herself for it.

“The lady doth protest too much,” he said, his sharp teeth flashing in the gloom as his grin widened.

Already, her anger had peaked and receded, because damn him, even the masks he wore lured her in. But she had to know—had to rip off that mask. “Why did you come? How did you find me?”

The façade dropped away and that haunted stare of his returned as he crossed the final few steps to her. “Are you alone?” He looked both ways across the bridge, and then the full force of his attention was on her as she backed to the parapet, beyond which was a precipitous drop. She was glad not to be able to see into the void behind her. He was threat enough as he followed her. It knocked the breath from her to have him so close. His shadow crossed her. She could reach forward and touch him—and she wanted to, despite everything. She could not afford this.

“Why do you want to know?” Desperate hostility spiked from every syllable. She sought comfort in her magic, revelling in the feeling of power coursing through her—an anchor to this madness that wanted to sweep her away.

“You needn’t do that, Harper, I mean you no harm. Put your magic away—though I am glad to see how much you have grown, little huntress.”

The nickname sent an unwelcome thrill through her. “Don’t call me that!”

The lazy smirk he sent her threatened to stall her breath. She held onto the magic brimming in her, fighting past the warmth that gathered in her core. His amusement faded. “I came to warn you, Harper.” He swallowed, and his eyes slipped shut for a second.

She watched him warily—watching for any tell of a threat—but he seemed a mess. It was an odd feeling. Hewasa threat, after all, yet they previously had had to cooperate so intimatelythat she did not view him as one. She trusted him—he’d saved her, protected her, even sent her away to keep her from danger, when he owed her nothing. It felt strange to fall back into such animosity. And now, when she felt as though she knew him, she felt like she could say with some certainty that the male before her was nothing close to cold and calculating. He was not, if she judged soundly, wearing any of his masks now. So whyhadhe come?

“You need to leave Keldheim—leave Valtivar. Go far from here.”

She did not know what she had expected—but it was not that. “Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I saw you in Afnirheim. You know what’s happening.” He gritted his teeth.

She raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“You know enough to understand Valtivar is not safe for you.”

“Why? What’s happening that I need to be so worried about?” she challenged, stepping closer and jutting her chin out in defiance as she looked up at him.

“Gods, woman,” he snapped, but a thrill rose in Harper as he glared down at her. He uttered a sound of frustration in the depths of his throat, and his hands fisted at his sides. “You delight and yet incite me with your wilfulness. You will not simply listen, will you? I know you sawhim. This isn’t just a goblin uprising. It spreads beyond that.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “War is coming, Harper. Do you know whathismark means?”

That he would not utter Saradon’s name sent a prickle of unease down her spine. “The Riven Circle?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a broken wheel.”

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