Page 148 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

A fire rose in Tharan’s blood.

“I would do anything to get Aelia back. Even if it meant war.”

“I think it will.” Amolie turned to Hopper and Sumac. “I believe Baylis was acting as a kind of double agent. Perhaps she does not know what she is doing. Perhaps she does. All we can do is try to get Aelia back.”

“That backstabbing bitch,” Sumac spit the words out as though they were poison in her mouth.

Tharan rubbed his face. His heart sank with the weight of his guilt.

“I told her she was being overly sensitive. I feel so guilty. I should have believed her.”

Amolie sighed. “There was no way for you to know. For any of us to know for sure.”

“Let’s get back to the house and figure out a plan.” He kicked at the old wooden floor aimlessly.

They rode through the sleeping city up to the hill, where the Alder Townhome stood silent as the grave—no candles burned in the windows. Two of the Hunt stood like statues at the gate.

“Someone is here to see the king,” one of them said.

A chill crept up Tharan’s spine.

“Who?” he asked.

“A knight from the Stormlands.”

“Roderick?” Amolie chimed in. “Was his name Bonecleaver?”

“I believe so. Finneas let him in.”

Amolie burst from the carriage, and into the house, before any of the others had a chance to take a breath.

Tharan and the others followed behind her to the parlor, where they found Roderick and Amolie wrapped in each other’s arms.

Tharan cleared his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m assuming you came here for a reason, Roderick.”

Amolie and Roderick parted. Roderick bowed to Tharan. “There is, your grace.” His face twisted with a mixture of fear and sadness. “It’s Lord Caiden. He’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Amolie asked.

“We went to the races together, and he didn’t return.”

The hair on the back of Tharan’s neck stood on end.

“What do you mean you went to the races together, and he didn’t return?”

“He went to show Ora around the stables and never returned.” He swallowed hard. “They found her body floating in the river the next morning.”

The room sucked in a collective breath.

“They don’t think Caiden…” Amolie couldn’t finish her sentence.

“He hasn’t been charged, but there are whispers rippling through the city—a council member’s son. A lord, in his own right, goes missing, and the woman he was last seen with winds up dead in a river. It doesn’t look good, that’s for sure.”

“But Caiden wouldn’t. He’s not like that,” Amolie said.

“We know he’s not, but you know how the city loves to gossip.”

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