Page 42 of Heir of Illusion

Twelve

After another half hour, we come upon a group of people. As we get closer, I realize they are passing large rocks to each other in an attempt to clear a collapsed portion of the tunnel. One of the men glances up, his face covered in dirt making him nearly unrecognizable. He squints, reaching for his weapon until his gaze settles on me.

“Ivy,” the familiar voice breathes.

Remy breaks away from the others and rushes forward, pulling me into his arms with no thought of the dirt that covers us both.

“What are you doing down here?” he demands. His attention flits to Thorne, and he stiffens, appraising the larger man with wary suspicion. “Who is this?”

I glance at Thorne to gauge his reaction, noticing how his eyes are narrowed at the spot where Remy’s hand lingers on my arm.

“Baylor sent us down here,” I tell my mentor. “He wants us to help with the search.”

“And this guy?” he presses again, shifting to stand between myself and the reaper.

“You could address me directly,” Thorne interjects, clearly not planning to help me deescalate the tension.

The soldiers halt their efforts, all of them observing our exchange with interest. I notice several familiar faces in the group, including Morwen’s brother Warrick. They each watch my companion with narrowed eyes.

“Thorne, this is Remard Durandus,” I explain, my patience running thin. “The Captain of the City Guard. Remy,” I give him a hard nudge with my elbow. He ignores me, continuing his staring contest with the reaper. “This is Lord Thorne, Death’s ambassador.”

Gasps sound off among the men as they gape at Thorne with open hostility. For all the obvious reasons, Death is no one’s favorite God. Everyone from the Fifth Isle has the unfortunate luck of being tainted by that dislike.

Proving my claims, Thorne removes his glove and shows them his tattoo, allowing the burning rose to speak for itself. Death’s sigil is well-known among all of the courts.

Remy crosses his arms over his chest. “His Majesty mentioned the alliance, but he didn’t say anything about you taking part in the investigation.”

Thorne shows no reaction to Remy’s suspicious tone. “I’m afraid I insisted.”

“We’re grateful for your aid,” The captain says, sounding completely the opposite. “Why don’t you go help clear the tunnel while I have a word with lady Iverson.”

Thorne’s gaze flashes to me briefly before returning to Remy. “Always happy to be of assistance.”

Without another word, he leaves us to join the others who are still watching him with a mix of fear and distrust.

“Back to work,” Remy orders his soldiers. “I want that tunnel clear within the hour.”

With their command given, they all return to the task at hand as Remy pulls me further away, giving us a bit more privacy. Thorne’s pale eyes track our movement as he grabs a heavy rock from the pile and tosses it aside as if it weighs nothing.

“Explain,” Remy demands, pulling my attention away from the reaper.

I fill him in as quickly as I can, leaving out a few key details, such as my theory about the sword, as well as the threats Thorne made. Remy isn’t exactly aware of my illicit activities with Della.

His usually smooth forehead wrinkles with confusion. “Why would the king agree to this?”

I shrug. “I suppose he needs the grain Killian is offering. He seemed desperate.”

That part isn’t technically a lie. He did seem desperate, just not for grain. There’s some other motive spurring his actions.

Remy jerks his chin in Thorne’s direction. “What do you make of him?”

My gaze returns to the man in question, snagging on the way his tightly corded muscles tense underneath his shirt as carries the large stones.

“Ivy.”

My face heats I drag my attention back to Remy. Clearing my throat, I meet his questioning gaze. “He’s powerful. And he’s willing to do whatever it takes to recover the sword. I think we should be wary of him until we know more.”

He nods, his expression unreadable. “I agree. Keep a close eye on him.”

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