Page 43

They won’t be on my shores for another hour or so, giving me just enough time to get to Zorren and back. I walk another ten minutes before the Ring finally comes into view. I push open one of the doors.

In the training area, Zorren is driving his fists into a punching bag like he’s trying to split it open, sweat dripping off him in heavy trails. His hands are wrapped, his loose shirt soaked through. He’s locked in so deeply that he doesn’t even notice me enter. No one else is here; it’s too early for anyone to be awake unless they were knocked out cold the night before.

I move behind the bag and into his line of sight. Finally, he spots me. The darkness in his eyes shifts. Everything in him stills—his breath, his fists, his anger. He pales just like Nyra did, like he’s wondering if I’m a hallucination.

“I thought you were dead,” he says, the words laced with hurt and fury.

“Unfortunately, very much alive,” I bite back. At thirteen, he’s mature beyond his years. The poor kid has seen more than anyone should at his age. I know what that’s like. All I’ve ever wanted for him is a normal life, a safe one. But he always gravitates toward violence, and that scares me. The further I push him away from the way I grew up, the more he seems to want it.

“Four weeks.” His eyes darken again as the hurt slinks away in the wake of his anger.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I soften my tone just a touch. “It was out of my control this time. It won’t happen again.”

“No fucking word. No warning. Just you saying you had some royals to take care of.” He grits his teeth and crosses his arms.

“Which I did,” I say.

“I thought they had you.” He hurls a sloppy punch at the bag. “Thought they were hurting you.” Another. His voice cracks despite how hard he tries to hide it. “Word was, if you weren’t spotted within the next week, war was going to break out across the coast of Coral Haven. Pirates were going to fight for their queen back.”

Interesting. Nyra didn’t mention that. Either I didn’t give her a chance to or she chose not to.

“I take it you finished your job then?” A beat. “With the royals?” he asks, still facing the wall, shoulders tight.

“I always finish my jobs,” I mutter. “Aside from thinking I was dead, is there anything else bothering you?” I step beside the punching bag, forcing his attention onto me instead. His eyes are bloodshot, deep circles carved beneath them. He hasn’t slept. My heart aches for how disoriented he seems.

“I took a job,” he says quietly. “I thought you were dead, or worse. So I took it to find you.” My jaw tightens at how chaotic his tone is. That was not the answer I was expecting.

“Look at me, Zorren.” I keep my voice calm, but blood pounds in my ears. “What job did you take?”

He swallows hard. “When you were gone… maybe a week after you left, some royals came to town.” Of course they did. Right when I was on the balance between life and death. Silas butchered and Maddoc gone. Even the prince had gone rogue.

“They went to the Ring. I heard they were placing bets on me losing.” My brows knit together. Zorren does not lose. The Ring worships him for it. The fucking king. If Silas knew about Zorren, the king must as well.

“And?” I lift a brow slowly. “What do royals want with a street fight?”

“When I stepped out back, like I always do between matches, four of them cornered me.” The air shifts and I feel my entire body go still at the thought of Zorren squaring off against four royals. Even as an expert fighter, a thirteen-year-old boy would be outmatched.

“Tell me what happened,” I insist, my jaw tight. “Now.”

“They attacked from all sides. I dropped three of them easily, but four is hard, especially when they had weapons and I didn’t.” His wrapped hands curl into tight fists. “One of them, who I thought was out cold, wasn’t. He hit me with the hilt of his sword and knocked me out.”

A muscle in my jaw ticks and I force myself to remember that Zorren is still standing. He’s safe, at least right now.

“I woke up to rain hitting my face and a piercing headache,” he continues. “I haven’t slept much since. But now?” His voice hardens, something feral rumbling underneath it. “Now I’m fucking pissed they won their bets because I didn’t show in the Ring.”

I look him up and down. “And what, exactly, does this have to do with the job you’ve apparently taken?”

“So after the king heard about my encounter with his guards”—he swallows—“he sent me a letter.”

I step back. Fuck. “What did it say?” I force the words out.

“He wants me to join his army. And with his word, when I come of age, I could be a commander.” He tries to sound detached and grown, but the pride and hurt bleed through. “It pays well. I’d have a place to live. And I thought maybe that was the only way I could find you.”

Fear coils sharp and cold in my gut. “You’re not actually taking the job, are you?” The moment the question leaves my lips, the answer hits me. The ship in the harbor. They’re here for Zorren.

“I did take the job,” he mutters quickly, eyes glued to the floor. He doesn’t want to do this. That’s why he was so angry and stressed when he saw me.

“Zorren, what in the gods’ names…” My voice cuts through the room and I shake my head in disbelief. “You were going to sacrifice your entire life on the off chance that you could save mine? You’re not trained enough to take the king on. Even if you did find me, what was your plan? He would use you to get me to crack. Never, ever go after me. I go after you, that’s how this is supposed to work.” I scoff, not at Zorren for trying to protect me, but at myself for allowing this to happen. For scaring him so badly that he planned to take on a mantle he would hate, that would most likely kill him. All because I didn’t come back.