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Kenisius strides up beside me. “He’s gone, Rai. Viv’s flying over the woods, searching for any sign of him or…”
More bodies.
He doesn’t have to say it, but we both hear it.
I was a fool for thinking I could put Tynan in charge of Shyga. First the issue with the shadow-spirits, and now this mess. It never feckin’ ends. This needs to be dealt with—all of this—as soon as possible.
So I can get Alessia back.
I run my hands through my hair, groaning. My fingers twitch anxiously and I begin pacing to quell the burgeoning energy inside me.
“We need to send someone to Shyga.”
“I’ll go.”
I shake my head. “I need you here. We have other issues to deal with. Send Viveka.”
“You got it.” Kenisius scratches his head as he eyes the body curiously.
“Who found him?” I ask.
“A group of fae headed back to Umbra City. Found him right outside the gates before sun up.”
I’m pissed at Tynan—or whoever it was that killed the boy—because now we’ve lost our chance for intel. We’ll never know what his message was, or why he chose to come now.
“Poor boy perished before learning how to properly please a lady.” Kenisius toes the body with his boot. He chuckles. “Shame. Well, guess he won’t be missed.”
I ignore Kenisius’s humor, focusing on all the people who failed Alessia. Too many people.
The queen and her Trade.
The lord and his ownership.
The dead boy and his reluctance to be a man and protect the woman in his life.
None of them are innocent. They’re all guilty.
And I’ll deal with them—one at a time, or altogether in war. Their choice. Once we send the boy’s body across the Gleam, the decision will be on their hands. Even if they don’t retaliate, I’m coming for them.
“What should I do with the body?” Kenisius asks.
“Send the body across the Gleam.” My voice lacks emotion, despite the turmoil in my heart.
“Are you sure?” Kenisius asks. “This isn't a spy or an escaped Tradeling. This is the messenger—it will stir the humans up.”
Ah, yes. When we had the treaty instated, the messengers were protected. Neutral, if you will. Though there is no longer a treaty in place, surely the death of the messenger will rile up the queen.
“Precisely.”
“Are you prepared if they decide to retaliate?”
“We’ll be ready.” That’s if they even make it past the Cursed Wood in the first place.
“Is she worth the risk of another war between the realms?” he asks, observing me carefully.
I smile darkly at him, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “You saw those marks on Alessia when she arrived, Kenisius, the tattoo on her face. Tell me, what do you think?”
He cocks his head, stroking his beard. “I think this is highly unusual. Even for you.”
