Page 59 of Court of Treachery

She swore and stumbled back, her hand reaching for her dagger before she recognised him. “Gods! I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she snarled. “Stop following me! What do you want?”

He longed to make a sarcastic retort but checked himself. There was no time. “Harper, I came here to warn y?—”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dimitrius,” she said, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

He could not help but smile at her stubbornness, foolish though it was. It spoke to the desperate and foolish part of him that still held hope. “Clearly. But you have to listen. You’re walking into a trap. The goblins plan to march from Afnirheim to Keldheim. You’ll run straight into them readying for battle. It will be a massacre—and not in your favour.”

“Why tell me? You’re a part of this,” she said accusingly. Her gaze seemed to strip him to his core. “Are you trying to trick me?”

“No, I promise.” He faltered, dropping his gaze. For a moment, he gaped, before he swallowed and spoke, meeting her night-darkened eyes. “Look. Perhaps I’m foolish. I don’t even know why I care. Perhaps I feel I owe you after what happened.”

Harper narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Istole the Dragonheart from the king,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground.

She stiffened, her eyes widening. “That’s why you sought us out, kept me safe. That’s the reason you let me escape in the end, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Why did you take it? And why send it to me?”

“That part was an accident,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to send it to you. I stole it to—” Dimitri frowned and faltered. “I was chasing rumours, I suppose. But in the end, for better or worse, I released Saradon. I was blinded by it all.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I think I made the wrong choice.” Heat rose to his cheeks. Why was he standing there babbling on like a fool—admitting his deepest fears, cutting his soul open—toher, of all people?

“You’re a bloody idiot,” she snapped. He was glad she saved herself from shouting, though just barely, knowing they were too close to the camp for comfort. Instead, she closed the gap between them and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Did you have any idea what that would unleash?”

His stomach lurched. “Of course not! I wanted to build a better Pelenor, but not like this.”

“Then you need to fix it.”

“Believe me, I wish I could. I’m bound to him now, Harper. I gave my word and my magic. I cannot.” With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realised the true implications of that. He was bound to Saradon’s will, whatever the cost.

She scoffed in disgust. “Typical. You’re just like any other noble. Wash your hands and be done with it. Someone else’s problem. Did youseeinside Afnirheim?”

“I did,” he said quietly.

“Did you help him?”

“Of course not! I had no idea. I never dreamed he would ally withgoblins, much less sanction that. I was furious with him, but he does not care one whit for my opinion. He owns me.”Dimitri hung his head. It was true. He had given his servitude in good faith—and now it bound him to a cause he did not want to champion.

“Don’t youdarefeel sorry for yourself,” Harper hissed, whirling upon him. She slammed her palms onto his chest with a noise of frustration. Her grey eyes flashed with ire. “My friend nearlydiedbecause of you. A city full of his kindiddie because of you. We are going to fix your mistake, and you’d better not get in our way.”

She made to push past him, but he grabbed her arm at the elbow, not allowing himself to be shaken off. “You won’t heed my warning?”

“We gave our word to the dwarven king that we would help them in whatever way we could.” Her voice shook—just a little, but he caught it. She was scared but would follow through regardless. He admired her pluck.

Dimitri turned her towards him, so she would feel the full impact of his next, devastating words. “They will kill you all, Harper.” How much more clearly could he put it?

“Not if the könig knows they’re coming. Have you not seen how many thousands he has massed? The goblins stand no chance.”

He hoped she was right, for the dwarven warriors held a fearsome reputation, but he had seen thepascha’shorde—a never-ending flood of unearthly creatures passing through Afnirheim’s halls and onward to battle. “Why are you so invested, Harper? This has nothing to do with you or your companions.”

Doubt flashed in her eyes, which she swiftly covered with defiance. “It has, more than you know.”

He stilled, an unfamiliar lurch in the pit of his stomach stirring into life. He had hoped to be wrong about her connection to Saradon, but was he? Did she know?

“My companions have dealings with him, of a sort,” she said. “My connection is of a more… personal nature. I admit, I’m partly curious. I have to seek the truth.”

“The truth ofwhat?” If one of them did not speak in riddles, it seemed the other did.

---