Page 53 of Winter's Fate

Thaddeus straightened, giving his head a vigorous shake. “Unfortunately, no.” He drew in a deep breath. “I believe the barrier between the Vales and the Miragelands is thinning. And I think very likely it will soon break.”

CHAPTER 22

Throughout his childhood, Thaddeus had been a serious child. Fidgety, nervous, soft-spoken, and never prone to exaggeration. Which was why, when he’d come to Callum with his plan to join the poisonkeepers at Inasvale, Callum had escorted him there personally.

Rarely did Thaddeus say anything in jest. And when he did, it was more likely to be a play on words that nobody got—including Callum.

“Thinning,” Laena repeated. “Thinning how exactly?”

The fear in her voice was evident, and no wonder. The mages had ruled the Vales for hundreds of years, leaving generations of wreckage in their wake. After ruining their own world—the Miragelands, it was called—they’d stormed the Vales like avenging demons, enthralling humans to do their will.

A group of rebels had finally risen to oppose them, and they’d been locked back behind the barrier ever since. How the rebels had managed it was a mystery. Nobody knew how it had been done, except for the few who’d been there. Callum had often suspected the secret might unveil a way to free the mages once more.

Only a fool would want to. But then, there were fools aplenty in the Vales. Heart-tithed magic was a remnant of the mages, a way to access their power. Had Callum not objected to the premise of the magic—that the pain of a loved one bought it—he still would have objected to the idea of accessing anything the mages would offer.

Anything they offered would be a trick. He’d no doubt of it.

“I can take you to the pool,” Thaddeus said. “Perhaps?—”

The door burst open, interrupting Thaddeus’ suggestion as a tall, rail-thin man flowed into the room, black robes swirling around his body like a mist. Thaddeus dropped to his knees, crossing his hands over his chest, and bowed his head.

Callum had met the poisonkeepers’ master once before. He hadn’t been impressed then—he had, in fact, been near convinced the man had recruited Thaddeus through manipulations and lies—nor was he impressed now. The man’s head was completely bald, his beard black as ink and cropped close around his chin. And though he was certainly not the only man to wear a beard alongside a bald head, the arrangement gave the master a distinct air of being upside down.

Landon Moore strode into the room on the master’s heels, looking as smug as a man possibly could. Like he’d just slain a dragon and devoured its tender heart. Callum would have wagered he’d been paying attention to their conversation in the courtyard, and that he’d been the one to summon the master for the sake of shortening their meeting. Possibly with the simple aim of annoying Callum until he snapped.

Moore stopped in the doorway, crossing his arms and leaning against it as though looking forward to the show.

“Brother Thaddeus.” The master’s voice was deep and resonant. “What is the meaning of this secret conversation?”

“It is no secret, Poison Master,” Thaddeus said. “They were merely telling me of their journey.”

The truth, yet not the truth. Thaddeus was as a brother tohim, but Callum had no illusions that he would keep their secrets. He belonged to the poisonkeepers first and foremost—his loyalties were theirs.

Though he hadn’t spilled the entire story yet, either. Interesting.

The master scanned the room, his gaze catching first on the crystal laid out on the table, then flickering past Callum as though he were invisible. When he reached Laena, however, his eyes narrowed. “Traitors,” he said, “are not welcome in our halls.PrincessLaena will need to find somewhere else to stay.”

Thaddeus’s mouth tightened, but he said nothing. He, at least, had known Laena’s identity from the first.

Landon Moore certainly had not. He straightened, his jaw falling open in a way that would have been most satisfying had he not then taken a step into the room. “I thought you were a random courtier. A member of the council.” He laughed, delight and disbelief playing across his face in turns. “Did the queen of Etra truly send a whore to treat with King Hawk?”

The implication being that she, too, had stolen the delegation.

Laena’s face turned white, and Thaddeus’s head snapped up, as if he could not have imagined this reaction. Thaddeus had always been the kindest of them. He would not have expected this reaction.

“Maybe she’ll take up with me,” Moore said, taking another step into the room. “Or am I not common enough for your tastes? Do I not smell enough like horsesh?—”

Callum stepped in front of Moore, blocking his path to Laena. And his view of her, too. “Princess Laena is the Etran queen’s emissary, and a member of the royal family,” he said. “You’ll speak to her with respect.”

The corner of Moore’s mouth turned up in a definite sneer, the kind Callum had always thought belonged to puppet-showvillains. “King Hawk will not agree to treat with her. He’ll send her to a brothel, where she belongs.”

Rage exploded on the edges of his vision, and suddenly Callum’s hands were around Moore’s neck. He shoved the man back against the wall as the general clawed at his fingers, struggling to draw breath. But Callum was bigger than Moore, and stronger—and much more dedicated to training, or so he once had been—and it was a simple matter to hold the man in place. Black anger throbbed at his skull, tunneling his vision into this one man, this one villain.

Thaddeus reached him first, dragging him away from Moore with a good deal more strength than Callum would have expected from him.

“Apologize to her,” Callum spat as Moore gasped for breath, doubling over and clutching at his throat. There would be bruises tomorrow, and Callum could not be sorry for it.

“She’s gone,” Thaddeus said softly.

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