Page 50 of A Rift in the House of Bruin

“His power grows every day that ring stays on his finger,” Levi warned.

“Or… the Sigil will reject him,” Nico replied. “We don’t have enough intel to prove otherwise. For now, we must act swiftly.We’ll focus on one thing at a time. But I promise you this—if I have to sever his hand from his body to get my father’s ring back, I will.”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll ask him,” a large male boomed, using his weight to push through the crowd. Silver threaded through his auburn curls, which tumbled around his head like a wild mane. A thick beard framed his ruddy face, barely hiding the crooked grin beneath. He straightened himself as he stood before Nico, adjusting a rusted breastplate that hung over tattered robes.

“This is Amos,” Sawyer said. “The sage I told you about.”

Nico nodded at him. “What’s your question?”

Amos uncorked his flask with his teeth, took a long swig, then asked, “Will ya fight by our sides, or tuck tail and run at the first sign of blood? Because the Divine tells me…” he grinned, “there will be blood.”

“The Divine tells you this?” Nico asked, arching a brow.

“Aye. Now answer the damn question,” Amos said, grinning even wider.

“What did you say?” Lucius seethed at the stranger, his hand resting on his sword.

“It’s okay, Lucius.” Nico lifted his hands to calm the tension in the room. “And the answer is no—I will not run. I’m prepared to fight, even if it means forfeiting my life.”

Amos fidgeted with the myriad of small bones hanging from his belt as he glanced up at the ceiling. I jumped when he doubled over in a full-bellied laugh. After the initial shock, his glee was contagious, and I sealed my lips to hold in the chuckle bubbling up.

“The Divine does not favor you, my friend. I do apologize,” he said once he’d composed himself, wiping tears from his eyes.

“You’re mad, old timer,” Lucius grumbled as he stepped closer to me.

“You say I’m mad—perhaps. But madness is simply seeing what others ignore. Like her.” He pointed a meaty hand at me. “Sitting so quietly when she’s a favorite. You should listen to everything she has to say.”

I squirmed in my chair, feeling all eyes land on me. I shot a worried glance at Nico, hoping he wouldn’t start asking my opinion on war tactics. I was far out of my league here.

“Yes, Michaela is an important part of this council. We’re all thankful to have you—and the Divine—here with us,” Nico said, shooting Lu a withering look. “Maybe you could put in a request for blessings on our plan.”

“Let’s hear it, then!” Amos cheered, lifting his flask and taking a swig. He pulled the nearest chair up and settled his large frame, giving himself a front-row seat across from Nico.

“We’ll start by cutting off supply lines. Aetherfall requires vast amounts of goods to be brought in daily in order to function. Once the court is cut off from the spoils of your labor, Mathenholm will fall into disarray. We’ll reroute food and supplies back into Dunharrow and the lesser cities and towns. Levi, I want you to head this up. You’ll need to distribute everything discreetly—we can’t have the crown’s army catching wind of it.”

“The Divine says, ‘Eat well, fight hard, and die laughing.’ Who am I to argue?” Amos chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. “Between you and me…” he whispered, “I’m adding, ‘drink deep’ to that list as well.”

“Glad you agree, Amos. But that’s not all.” Nico continued, “We’ll also target payments going to the sovereign cities. Johan is paying the nobles to send soldiers. We need to cut off his supply of hired thugs. And to that end, we’ll start building our own militia. I’m appointing my brothers, Luca and Lucius, as my generals.”

“We’ll begin training here,” Luca added, rising from his chair to address the group. “Small battalions will rotate through. My brother and I will prepare them for covert missions. Like ghosts in the night, we’ll take out Johan’s most loyal supporters one by one until they regret choosing his side.”

Lucius joined his brothers, pulling a lump of glittering iron ore from his pocket and setting it on the table. “Sawyer has helped negotiate a deal with the ironworkers in Dunharrow. They’ve agreed to start forging blades, spearpoints, and arrowheads. Weapons training is crucial if we’re going to beat hardened soldiers.”

“Sawyer, I want you to be the voice of this movement,” Nico said, pointing to the hulking male. “And you, Amos—our people have lost their faith. For too long, they’ve been beaten down. Now, they have nothing left to live for. Without purpose, there’s no passion to fight. I need to give them a reason to live again. Can you help me with that?”

“Ah, faith and steel. Two things that’ll never fail you,” Amos said, grinning. “I’m most humbled to provide my services—so long as I get the chance to kill those deceiving bastards.”

“That’s a promise I can keep. You’ll have more than enough chances to spill traitorous blood.”

“And what of the illness?” Fiona asked. “Nineteen died this morning. New cases are reported daily. We can’t fight the crown if we’re dropping dead from a silent killer.”

Lucius moved through the crowd and opened the door as the room fell silent. “Have you brought our friend, Fallon?” he called.

There was a scuffle in the hallway, followed by muffled protests.

“Unhand me at once! This isn’t the behavior of a lady. I have no less than six poisons that would drop you dead!” a raspy voice snapped.

Fallon shoved a disheveled Maxfield into the study.

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