“Not the king,” Reardon said, “but the stories are not the truth of things here. You must go home. I am safe.”

“Safe? Are they not monsters?”

“They’re….”They’re not, Reardon wanted to say, and yet… how could anyone kill so thoughtlessly?

How could Shayla, too, look on as if it didn’t matter, even if she had called for Liam to stop?

There had been accidents, Reardon had been told. How many? How many had died here undeserving?

“It doesn’t matter,” Reardon said. “But you must go. You have supplies?” He didn’t appear to have anything on him other than the sword he’d dropped.

“We…Ihave a camp not far, with horses.”

“Then return to it, take your things, and go. Tell Lombard and my father that I am safe, and that I will return home when I deem it time.”

“But why—”

“Go,” Reardon ordered.

The soldier hesitated, pausing to lean forward and whisper, “You could come with me.”

Reardon felt a terrible twist of guilt that part of him felt like he should. Part of him wondered if those cursed here deserved to be freed, or if he should simply abandon the idea after what he had seen.

But he would not only be giving up on them if he ran, and on Jack, but on his best chance to discover his mother’s killer.

“I can’t. I’m doing something important here. Just tell them… tell them I know what I’m doing, and do not frighten them by saying how the other soldier died. Say nothing of the creature you saw. Promise me.”

“I….” The soldier’s eyes went wider still. Then his voice fell once more to a whisper. “What shall I tell his family?”

Reardon winced, unable to stop the furrowing of his brow. “Tell them it was an accident, and that I send my deepest sympathies. Now go.”

The soldier bowed, reclaimed his sword from the snow, immediately sheathing it, and Reardon watched him head out the gate, ensuring that it closed behind him.

He wasn’t surprised to find the entryway of the castle bursting with people when he returned—along with every member of the court, save Liam.

Jack stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to his chamber, looking grave. “You let him go?”

“They didn’t mean any harm,” Reardon said. “They came to rescue me.”

“He’ll tell them what he saw,” Branwen grumbled.

“He won’t. I made him swear that he wouldn’t.”

“And you believe he’ll honor that?” Jack asked.

Reardon honestly considered the question. The soldier, though young, had seemed a loyal sort, however frightened for his life. “Yes.”

For the first time in ages, Reardon feared what Jack might do. Would he disagree, storm out of the castle after the surviving soldier, and freeze him into an undeserving statue before he reached his horse?

Another twist of guilt assaulted Reardon as Jack said, “All right. Then we will consider the matter closed and hope no more soldiers darken our grounds.” With a simple bow of his head, Jack turned to lumber up the stairs.

Reardon felt so awful for doubting Jack that he could barely muster a smile as various members of the castle came to him afterward, including Josie, praising him for deescalating the event and keeping the castle safe.

As soon as Reardon had the chance, he pulled Barclay aside. “Where did Liam and Shayla go?”

“Back to the tower. I don’t think Liam’s taking this well. They never do.” The sorrow on Barclay’s face brought yet another twist of guilt.

Only minutes had passed since Reardon was initially headed for the tower. Now he headed there with Barclay, feeling an awful weight in his stomach.