Page 87 of Path of the Dark
Dragging in a deep breath, Elias clenched his hands by his sides. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this, he was only digging himself a bigger hole with each passing moment. “Nathan of Rithmar is open to the idea of peace with us,” Elias ventured, making one more attempt to sway his father. “He’s angry now, but he would still respond to negotiations.”
“Then he’s a fool,” Reoul countered.
“You’rethe fool.” Elias’s temper finally frayed. He’d had enough. “Is this what you want for Anthor? To burn and conquer lands that have nothing to do with us? Even if you manage to take Rithmar, you’ll never be able to return home. You’ll spend the rest of your life fighting to keep the lands you’ve stolen.”
His father’s sharp intake of breath echoed through the throne room, and a heavy silence fell.
Elias had gone too far. He clenched his fists tighter, readying himself for the storm that was about to be unleashed.
Reoul’s rage, when it hit him, was wintry. “One more word and you’ll swing from a gibbet tonight.”
Elias straightened his spine, raising his chin. Yet he held his tongue.
A nerve flickered under the king’s right eye. Elias might not have used a blade, but with his last words he’d managed to wound his father. It would be a short-lived victory, however.
After a long pause, Reoul resumed toying with his knife. Elias wondered if he was considering throwing it at him. “You will fight on the walls tomorrow,” his father said finally. “In the front line.”
Elias slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. As far as punishments went this one wasn’t so bad. He was a soldier after all.
But the king wasn’t finished with him.
“You’d better make sure you don’t live through the battle,” Reoul continued. “For you are no longer a son of mine.”
As soon as she left The Spiral Way, Ryana dismounted her horse. Unlike the deserted square before the gates, the streets in this area were thronged with Anthor soldiers and locals alike. Ryana passed men and women with gaunt faces and hollowed eyes. They were preparing to lock themselves indoors for a while, preparing for another army to lay siege to Veldoras.
Let’s hope Nathan manages to liberate this city, Ryana thought as she passed a pale, thin young woman who carried a wailing babe.
Her thoughts then turned, traitorously, to Elias. He’d have reached The Swallow Keep by now and would be likely standing before his father. She didn’t like his chances of convincing Reoul to make peace with Nathan.
Ryana frowned. She shouldn’t care what became of Elias—and yet the thought of him being imprisoned, tortured, or killed for failing his father made her feel queasy.
Stop it.Ryana shoved aside her worries.He made his choices … and I’ve made mine.
A block in from The Spiral Way, she sold her gelding to a merchant for two silver talents. The horse was worth more than that, but Ryana didn’t have the time or the patience to haggle. Slapping the gelding on the rump in farewell, she threw her small leather pack over one shoulder and continued on her way.
The slums lived up to their name: a network of narrow, fetid streets that stank of rotting rubbish and urine. Washing criss-crossed many of the streets, giving an air of industry to an otherwise depressing area.
Ryana walked the narrow streets, looking out for the stag’s head knocker that would alert her she’d arrived at her destination.
Along the way, she noted she was attracting some stares. A woman shaking out a rug on her front step gawked at her. Ryana was aware that she was an odd sight. Locals likely didn’t see many tall blonde women wearing Anthor attire: black leather breeches, long boots, and a black silk shirt. The clothing was surprisingly comfortable, although it drew unwelcome attention.
Ryana felt the weight of the woman’s gaze tracking her down the cobbled street.
When another woman, who was sitting outside her door shelling peas, spat at her, Ryana quickened her stride.
She needed to find the House of Light and Darkness, before she attracted too much attention.
Eventually, she located the House.
It sat halfway down a narrow, shadowy lane. All the facades were crumbling and peeling here. The cobbles were cracked and missing in places, meaning you had to be careful not to twist an ankle. Wrinkling her nose as she stepped over a pile of human excrement, Ryana picked her way up the steps. She fastened her fingers around the iron door knocker and banged three times—hard.
It took a while for anyone to answer. Meanwhile, Ryana spied figures approaching from the far end of the street. A mob was gathering. She needed to get inside.
“Anthor whore!” someone shouted.
Ryana loosed a weary sigh.If only they knew.
The door before her creaked open then, and a small woman with a gaunt face wearing a stained house dress peered out. “What do you want?” she asked, her gaze narrowing as she dragged it down the length of Ryana.
