AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A mix of emotions swam through Fadon’s mind. He looked up at Demos, who was still standing. “I didn’t write this.”
The Servant looked as if he’d been doused in ice water. “It is not from you.” It wasn’t a question, just a cold, dead statement.
Fadon slowly shook his head. “No. When did you receive it?”
“What’s going on?” Sierra asked.
Demos raised a hand, absently, in her direction, not taking his eyes off Fadon. “It came hours after your reply, about meeting here at Syrus Crossing. Perhaps it is from Lysander himself?”
Fadon read it again.
Lysander decided to only meet at Basilica. I tried reasoning with him, but no success. I will meet up with you at some point beforehand. — Fadon
It was true that Fadon’s penmanship wasn’t neat and tidy, but the words written in black ink, here in this note, were messy, the letters more like bird scratchings than anything. Still, though, he could see how Demos would think it was Fadon’s handwriting. Perhaps he’d thought that Fadon had been in a hurry or had written it on horseback.
But one thing was true: this was not Lysander’s handwriting. Rarely had Fadon read anything from his brother over the decades, but he just so happened to have done that very thing, the day he and Arik had left the Mor. That ridiculous message he’d read that morning in the courtyard. “I can’t go. I am sorry.”
Fadon handed it back to the Servant. “It wasn’t Lysander who wrote this.”
“Then who did?” Demos demanded, his reserve crumbling before Fadon’s eyes.
“I have no idea.” Fadon shrugged, half irritated and half suspicious. “Could have been one of my queen’s people.” He frowned then. “Although here are only a handful that know how to write.”
“Please tell me what the matter is,” Sierra said.
Fadon looked over at her, seeing the concern across her brow.
“A word, Captain,” Demos said before he turned and walked away, heading in the direction of the horses.
Fadon stood and looked down at Sierra. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Let me talk to the Servant, then I’ll let you know.” He caught Arik’s eye. The well-trained man made a hand signal that Fadon understood. Arik’s full responsibility was to watch her.
Now out of earshot and facing Demos, Fadon crossed his arms as he waited for him to speak. The Servant rubbed his mouth, like Jon was wont to do when thinking. The action made the blue-eyed man seem more human, relatable. But it also had warning bells ringing in Fadon’s head.
“What are you not telling me?” Fadon asked.
Demos stretched his neck, slowly from right to left as though there was too much tension there. Now the bells were clanging.
“Are we in danger?”
Demos shook his head. “No. I need to speak with your queen.”
Fadon held his gaze. “But what if Lysander is at the Basilica? And now that I think about it, it’s the better idea in the long run. He’s been… difficult.”
Demos’ eyes flashed. “Difficult how?”
Fadon squinted, trying to think of the right wording, ones that wouldn’t cast his brother as the selfish ass he was. “Cold feet, I guess. He’s still young, you could say. Stubborn, willful.”
Demos didn’t move a muscle, and Fadon was reminded of a bird of prey, waiting patiently for its meal to make a move before it swept in for the taking.
“But he agreed to the Fealty,” Demos said with an eerie calm.
Fadon wasn’t interested in all of that. “My brother will do his duty, Servant. If he sulks, he sulks. He knows how important this is. Especially now.”
As if they shared the same mind, they both turned to look behind them at the omega, who was staring into the horizon, lost in thought.
“Has she been told?” Fadon quietly asked the Servant. “About what she is?” Fadon still needed to know how in Ongar’s name Demos knew what Sierra was, but now wasn’t the time.
“She has,” Demos answered just as quietly, before returning to the matter at hand, the mystery note. “If it’s not Lysander who wrote that, then there is no need for us to meet him at the Basilica. If he is there, we will simply send word to him once I’ve spoken with your queen.”
