Page 96 of Heartbreak Prince

Walking back to Vawn, I check the glyphs on the general’s immobilized fingertips. As I thought, she bears silence and stealth glyphs on both hands. They all have short timing serifs, each lasting about a minute. Fairly harmless, by all appearances. Nothing too dangerous or powerful that might have made the castle guards suspicious when she arrived for the party.

Through the broken window in the suite, I can hear shouts, the beating of wings, and whistling sounds like great arrows being shot or stones being flung. Anyssir Castle is indeed under attack, but so far, the worst of it seems to be happening outside the walls, not within them. But that could change quickly.

“Vawn, you should hurry,” I urge him.

“First question, General.” He leans over her. “Are the Lord and Lady still alive?”

“Yes,” she says through clenched teeth. “I locked them in their room. They are old friends, and though their loyalties are misplaced, I don’t wish to harm them. And I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“Yet you killed several guards, and you would have killed me as well,” I point out.

“If you didn’t want people to be hurt, you should have given yourself up to the Exemplar,” says the general.

“Who is he? Who is doing this?” Vawn hisses. “How could you join them? Why would you turn traitor against your own kingdom?”

“I’m not. I still serve Belavrin. Just a different one than you’re thinking of. One liberated from the tyranny of monarchs.”

I snort a laugh. “The Exemplar is just another kind of tyrant.”

“Who is he?” Vawn presses the sword tighter against General Centune’s throat, until a thread of blood appears on her skin.

“He is everyone and no one,” she rasps. “His name is not important.”

“But you know him,” I theorize. “It’s not easy to turn a longtime general of the King’s army into a traitor. You know this person, and you trust him. Why?”

But the general clamps her lips shut and fixes her eyes on the ceiling. Silence fills the hallway, punctuated by the distant sounds of conflict outside the castle.

Just as Vawn is about to press her again, there’s a shout from a nearby corridor, and the sound of running feet. People are approaching, and I can’t be sure whether they’re friend or foe.

“We have company,” I warn Vawn. “Do you want me to finish her?”

“She was going to kill you, so she deserves death,” he says grimly. “But we need her as a witness to what happened here. Perhaps the Lord and Lady can get some information out of her.” He looks down at the general. “For your sake, I hope you were telling the truth, and that they’re alive. If I find out you killed them—”

“Vawn!” someone shouts from the end of the hallway.

Several figures are running toward us. I step between them and Vawn, assuming a fighting stance while my eyes flick over the oncoming group, identifying each one. Lord Kaenan in his dressing gown. Lady Kaenan in an embroidered robe. The rest are castle guards by the look of their clothing.

My posture relaxes a bit, but I stay alert even when they’ve reached us, and I keep track of Severin’s exact position by the wall in case we need to leap onto him and escape.

Lady Kaenan pulls Vawn to his feet and checks him over. “You’re safe, thank the fates.” Then she spots General Centune on the floor, and her expression turns livid. “She did this.”

“She’s paralyzed,” Vawn says. “But it won’t last much longer.”

Lord Kaenan beckons to his men. “Take the general to a cell. And see that the guards who lost their lives here are laid out in the west hall, with the greatest respect, until their bodies can be seen to.”

His people surge forward to obey, and I step back into Vawn’s room, out of their way. I take advantage of the spare moments to run to my closet and don a loose shirt, a pair of pants, and the boots my father made me. It’s a relief to feel them on my feet again.

While I’m sitting on the floor, lacing the boots, I keep glancing at the dead, riderless wyvern. Its long neck lies halfway across the floor of the room, its blood saturating the fluffy rug. Its head is turned aside, and a thick, slimy tongue spills from its jaws. One of its wing joints is jammed into the window frame beside its neck, like it was trying to crawl through, even though it obviously couldn’t fit. Stupid creature. That wedged joint is keeping it stuck, preventing the limp carcass from sliding out of the window and crashing to the ground.

The sounds of conflict outside have faded, which hopefully means the Redeemers’ attack has failed. But they’ll come again. We must be gone when they do.

Lord Kaenan pokes his head into my room, and his eyes widen. “Well. There’s something you don’t see every day.” He raises his voice. “My dear, there is a dead wyvern stuck in the window.”

A faint curse comes from the hallway, and seconds later, Lady Kaenan hurries in. “By the fates, that is a sight. The rug will have to be thrown out.”

“Are there any more wyverns outside? Any more attackers?” I ask.

“I believe they have been killed or driven off,” says Lord Kaenan. “The sky should be clear, and the castle is secure. Still… they got too close.”