Page 87 of Forged By Heart and Claws
My wings flexed tightly against my spine, readying to attack.
He had to die.
Briar’s hand pressed against my shoulder.Vad, what’s wrong?
Briar’s voice bled into my mind, frayed and fading through our weakened bond, but clear enough. She grounded me and pulled me back from doing something reckless.
I straightened, aligning my spine and wings with sharp control.It’s fine.Not the truth, but enough for now.
I’m sorry,she linked back.
There was nothing to apologize for. She understood. Shealwaysunderstood.
I gave her a sharp nod, then slowly unsheathed my sword. The whisper of metal against scabbard was a promise—one I intended to keep.
I pushed the door wider, and Colm didn’t look up.
The crack of stone rang through the room as his chisel struck again, splintering the sculpture’s neck. He hissed, sounding displeased with the result. He adjusted one of his claw tips, then dragged it along the fracture, testing the resistance.
“Worthless thing,” Colm muttered, flinging the chisel over his shoulder. It clanged against a shelf, sending a small avalanche of broken jewelry clattering to the floor. He reached for another figurine, this one a merlinite stallion etched with silver veins. “Perhaps you’ll prove more useful.”
I moved farther into the room, careful not to disturb the fallen books any more than I had to. Briar followed close behind, her steps silent and her sword lowered. Thalen slid out to the right, his sword drawn as well. Veralt brought up the rear, ducking to avoid striking his head, his sword sheathed at his side and his hand resting near the hilt.
Colm set the stallion on the desk, picked up the chisel and mallet, and broke it apart. The neck snapped, and a faint puff of dust rose up. The vinegar scent intensified, and he growled.
I lifted the blade of my sword, preparing to chop his head off.
The shadow of my arm moving up slid across the desk, and I realized too late that my usual ability to keep my shadows contained had vanished.
Feck.
Colm froze, and with maddening calm, he set down the broken stallion and turned, squaring his shoulders. “I wouldn’t recommend that.” He cut his gaze to me, his dull green gaze looking unbearably smug. “Killing me wouldn’t end well foryou or your little family, especially the prisoners. If anything happens to me, they all die.”
“I don’t need to let you speak to end you.” I stepped forward, letting the edge of my blade cut the side of his neck, drawing a thin line of blood. “You won’t have time to give any orders, and even if you scream, they won't get here in time.”
He flinched slightly but didn’t retreat. Blood welled at his neck, and yet his smile never wavered. “Are yousureabout that? Willing to gamble with innocent lives?” His voice dripped with poisonous amusement. “Children, you know. Helpless little ones who’ve never done anything wrong.”
Veralt moved closer, stepping through the wreckage of paper and ink-stained pages. “What in the void are you talking about?”
“That’s not a funny joke,” Thalen growled from the side. “Say another word like that, and I’ll show you exactly what pain feels like while you’rebeggingto die.”
Colm chuckled with a sly grin that curled his hatchet-shaped face into a sneer. “You think I don’t know? Not that it matters. Children, who have never done anything wrong, will know what that’s like if you kill me or make me disappear.”
Briar stepped beside me with her sword pointed at his heart. Her stance was lethal and still, and she kept her eyes locked on him, unblinking. But something punched through our bond. The pressure of unease and concern.
I scowled, acid pooling in the pit of my stomach. He was far too calm.Is he lying, Briar?
I…I don’t know.Her voice flickered in my mind, taut and conflicted. She adjusted her grip on her sword but kept it aimed at Colm, maintaining a mask of calm and confidence.The vinegar smell—it’s too strong. It’s masking everything. I can’t tell.
Damn it.I kept my blade at his throat, even as my instincts warred inside me.It’s all right. We’ll take him prisoner and get our answers.
Colm beamed. “Are you frightened,Briar? You should be.” He chuckled.
Briar’s shoulders locked, her breathing tightening.
Enough.
I struck him in the mouth with my fist and the hilt of my sword. He stumbled back into the desk with a choking cough, still clutching the broken figurine in one hand. Blood gushed from his lips and down his chin, but even as he clutched his jaw, his grin widened grotesquely.
