Page 46 of Destroyer

“I wasn’t certain the guards would betray you,” Fen said, loosening his arm from around Ru’s waist. “I needed them to think they had a chance.”

Sybeth’s expression was carved in granite, unmoving. “Why suspect a betrayal from the king's own guards?”

“I’m naturally distrustful,” said Fen. “They proved me right.”

“I see. And where did you get the armor you're wearing?” Sybeth asked. “I trust you didn't steal it.”

“‘Course he stole it,” muttered Lyr.

Sybeth shot the other rider a look, and he shrugged, turning away.

“I’ll let you pick whatever explanation you like best,” said Fen. A muscle in his jaw flexed, tense.

Ru watched them with confusion, head reeling. Her mouth was sour with vomit and her entire body ached. Betrayal… stolen armor… “I need more context,” she said, swaying.

Fen caught her before her legs buckled.

“You’re going to need a doctor,” he said, his tone softer now. He tossed Sybeth a sharp look. “We have to get her to the Tower. As quickly as possible.”

The rider sighed, still frowning deeply. “This matter is now far beyond my purview,” she said, her tone tinged with annoyance. “Rosylla, you will ride back to Mirith and alert the regent that there are traitors in her midst. I’ll follow behind and escort the carriage. Lyr, ride with Fen and Ru. The artifact must be kept safe. It can’t fall into the wrong hands. Ride through the night if you have to.”

Lyr frowned, thick brows falling heavy over his eyes. A smear of blood angled across his large nose, and the skin around one eye was swollen, darkening. “Long ride to the Tower.”

“Yes, and you’ll ride your horse to its death if you have to.” Sybeth’s gaze was glacier cold.

“Please don’t,” said Ru, wanting to cry again and feeling more useless than she ever had in her life. She hugged the bundled artifact to her, its blanket warm in her arms. “All on account of this? Of the artifact?”

Fen shot her a pained look. “I suppose it never occurred to you that your life also matters.”

“Tome,” she shot back, though her voice still shook.

“You underestimate the people who care about you,” said Fen.

Ru glared at him, the remnants of her terror morphing into a sick self-loathing. “Sybeth said it herself. This is bigger than me. Than all of us. Why would the guards betray the regent’s orders? Were they trying to get to me, or the artifact? Or both? Or—”

She coughed, her throat hoarse, doubling over as a sudden pain sliced through her chest. Blood drained from her face as pain overtook her.

“Broken rib,” said Lyr, observing.

“We're leaving,” growled Fen. “Now. Ru will ride with me. Lyr, are you well enough to ride?”

The rider tapped his bandaged shoulder, winced, then nodded. “Surface wounds.”

“Are you ready?” Fen’s low voice was for Ru alone, gauging her, asking for honesty.

She hated this. Images of death played, unending, through her head. Lady Maryn’s face, a head rolling, blood, the artifact seeming to pulse beneath her bare fingers and then darkness.

She trusted Fen, but what he had done to the guard unsettled her. The ease with which he cut short a man's life. She was an academic, not a fighter, nor a soldier. She wished she hadn't seen it happen, wished she’d never been called to the dig site, had never written that paper. Maybe she could give the artifact to Fen; let him take it away.

She didn’t want it.

But the wretched thing seemed to feel her angry thoughts and responded, grasping at her desperately, refusing to let her go.

It was too much. She couldn’t fight anymore. She needed rest, needed to be home. She belonged at the Tower, and that was where they would take her.

At last she spoke, her voice low but firm. “I’m ready.”

CHAPTER15

---