Page 18 of Tethered In Blood

My fingers drummed against my thigh. It made sense, but it didn’t sit right.

Alric looked unconcerned. He leaned back in his chair, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “Either way, they are no longer a threat if you cleared most of their camp, as I expect you did. A weak guild of blacksmiths is nothing to worry about.”

I nodded, though the unease remained in my gut.

Silence lingered between us for several breaths until Alric’s eyes glanced at the leather-bound book under my arm. He raised a brow. “Didn’t take you for much of a reader.”

Scoffing, I shook my head. The journal landed on the small table between us with a dullthump. “This one is different.”

Alric tilted his head. “Different, how?”

Considering my words, I traced my thumb over the ridges of my knuckles. I avoided explaining things that didn’t pertain to my missions or orders. But this had been bothering me more than I cared to admit. “It’s Quinn Larkspur’s. The new herbalist,” I huffed.

His brows lifted. “Oh?”

I scowled at the accusations in his tone, but he only grinned. “I wasn’t looking for it,” I explained, ignoring his amusement. “But Calder handed it to me and told me to read the beginning.”

My fingers intertwined in my lap. “It’s not just notes on herbs; there are remedies, salves, and tinctures. And the poisons… the antidotes…” I frowned. “They are too detailed. Too personal.”

Alric’s smile disappeared, and his expression became more serious. “Personal how?”

It didn’t seem appropriate to share her writings and past with someone she hadn’t met, but Alric was the prince, her ruler, and her employer.

I knew him well enough to understand that he wouldn’t use such knowledge with hostile intentions. The Count, who found me half-dead in a ditch and raised me to be a weapon, had sent me to kill the young crown prince. He said Alric wasn’t fit to rule. Too weak. Too naïve.

Alric’s guards caught me when I got close enough to prove him wrong. He could have had me executed, and perhaps he should have. However, he showed mercy by taking me into his service. He gave me the title of Knight on paper while still using me as an assassin in practice.

If Calder was correct and Quinn was useful for much more than we had realized, he needed to know.

Exhaling, I opened the journal and flipped to the section that had twisted my stomach. I turned it so he could see and tapped my finger on the hastily scribbled notes in the margins. “She wasn’t writing about patients,” I explained. “She was writing about herself.”

Alric’s gaze skimmed over the entries. His expression darkened as he scrutinized the frantic handwriting, the vivid descriptions of pain, and the precise timing of each symptom that revealed she had experienced them herself.

He sat back, rubbing his jaw. “So, what do you plan to do?”

I blinked and met his gaze. “What?”

He gestured to the journal. “You wouldn’t be telling me this if you didn’t care, Oberon.”

“I don’t care,” I scoffed.

“Sure. And I’m a common foot soldier,” Alric laughed.

I pressed my teeth together. “She’s hiding something.”

“No doubt.”

“She’s not my problem.”

Alric sighed and stood from his seat. “No, but she’s about to be.”

My brows furrowed as he approached his desk. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“We received letters from Silverfel while you were handling Carrow’s bandits,” he explained, picking up a paper from the desk. “Reports of an unknown sickness affecting the town have been received. Their healer is struggling, and they need assistance. I’m sure you know our border knights are there.”

I rose from my seat as he handed me the letter written in hurried, uneven strokes, as if penned by someone exhausted or frantic. Near the edges, dried bloodstains and ink smudges disfigured the parchment.

To The Courts of Aurelith,

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