Page 158 of Swordheart
Bartholomew snorted. “You’re assuming that she wants anything to do with a war criminal. She’s better off with her cousin.”
The words slipped between Sarkis’s ribs like the blade of a knife. He would almost have preferred to have his hand chopped off.
Nolan met Sarkis’s eyes, hands still raised before him. “That is, of course, for Mistress Halla to decide for herself. I am certain Ser Sarkis wishes only to be sure that she is well.”
Sarkis knew he was beaten. If they kept him in the sword, he would have no way at all to get Halla away from her clammy-handed cousin.
Assuming she can’t get away herself. Assuming that Zale doesn’t find a way to help her.
He had to believe that the Rat priest was too clever to be taken in by Alver’s machinations. Zale knew exactly how Halla felt about her cousin.
“Please,” said Nolan. “We have a great deal to discuss. There is much my order wishes to learn from you.”
Sarkis curled his lip and looked away. “Fine,” he muttered. “If you give me your oath as a priest or whatever you are that you will send word to Halla immediately.”
“You have it,” said Nolan, without hesitation. “Tomorrow morning.”
Sarkis grunted.
After a moment, he said, “What does your order even want with me, anyway?”
“You’re the only person living who met our founder,” said the scholar. He smiled nervously, tucking his hair behind his ears. “The Sainted Smith. The woman who put you in the sword.”
CHAPTER 51
They heard Alver coming down the hall before the door opened, which gave both Halla and Zale time to snatch their hands back in front of them, wrists together. Hopefully he would not be looking too closely at the ropes.
Alver stepped inside the room. He looked extremely pained.
“Let us go, Alver,” said Halla. “You know this is completely ridiculous.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” said Alver. “It was Mother’s. I tried to talk her out of it, but… well, you know what she’s like when she gets an idea in her teeth…”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at them both morosely.
“You have to let Zale go,” she said. “They’re no part of this. And you can’t just kidnap a priest. You’ll be in very deep trouble.”
“Ugh…” Alver rubbed his ringed hands over his face. “I know! I panicked. It was very upsetting. I thought the house was empty and you can imagine how shocked I was when your priest friend came downstairs! Mother was yelling to tie them up and… oh, I still have a headache from it all.”
It occurred to Halla that he was actually trying to appeal to her for sympathy. She didn’t know if she should play along in hopes he’d give in or just kick him very hard in the shins.
Zale just stared at him, one slender eyebrow slowly crawling up their forehead.
“Nevertheless,” said Halla, amazed at how reasonable she sounded. “This isn’t the way to start a marriage. You have to untie us both. I won’t marry a man who kidnaps priests.”
For a moment, she really hoped Alver was that easily led. After all, he’d been under his mother’s sway for forty-some years, surely he couldn’t have that much capacity for independent thought?
But he shook his head at her sadly. “I can’t,” he said. “You know I can’t. The priest will raise the alarm and then everything will be just a mess.”
Halla sagged back against the wall. “There are horrible slimy flying things in the Vagrant Hills,” she said conversationally. “They drop out of the sky on you and then ride you around while they drink your blood. I don’t know why anybody is worried about marrying anybody else when there’s things like that out there we haven’t dealt with.”
Alver looked blank. “What do you expect me to do about it?”
It occurred to Halla that possibly Alver would be improved by slime. “Nothing,” she said. “What do you intend to do with Zale?”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to kill them. Sorry.” He nodded to Zale. “It’s nothing personal.”
“I’m afraid I’m taking it very personally, though.”
