Page 25

Poorly then.

“Not as much as I’d hoped, Your Majesty,” I said with a bow. “I tailed Lord Curringham for over a month. I found nothing that leads me to believe he was dealing with the Dark Fae or”—I took a breath—“that he was aware his assistant was doing so.”

“His assistant?” Damien raised a brow. He slouched over his chair, leaning on one armrest with a leg cast over the other. Killian sat straight up but his brows were raised.

“Yes, Your Highness,” I continued, refusing to look at Damien. It had been a risk telling the king about the boy. A risk I hoped paid off. “The young man had been in Lord Curringham’s service for over a year. I saw him meeting with a conspirator who he believed to be working for the Shadow.”

“The Shadow?” the king echoed. His fingers clasped the arm of his throne tight enough his knuckles turned white.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said. “The man kept his face hidden beneath his traveling cloak so I could not identify him. When I interrogated the assistant, he said he only dealt with two people—one he believed to be the Shadow and the other his accomplice.” Not entirely true, but the king didn’t have anyone who could verify it. I had left the only witness at the bottom of a canal.

“Are you telling me the Shadow and the Dark Fae are working together?” the king bellowed. He slammed a fist on his throne. His heavy breaths shook his beard as his eyes disappeared behind his flushed cheeks.

I shook my head. “The boy wasn’t sure. Rylan never saw much of him, but he said he moved too quickly to be Mortal.”

“Rylan?” It was Prince Killian’s soft voice. I stilled. Killian barely spoke at court, least of all to me.

“The boy’s name, Your Highness,” I said, blinking up at the prince. He leaned forward in his chair, his head tilted to the side.

“I don’t care about some dead traitor’s name!” the king shouted, slamming his other fist. “What was the Shadow doing in Cereliath?”

I broke my gaze from Killian and faced the king. “The conspirator was moving a shipment of food through the city. I believe the other person the assistant met with may have been the Shadow or someone working for him.”

“Why?” Killian asked, raising a honey-colored brow. He pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.

“The boy believed it to be true,” I answered, lifting a shoulder. “So do many of the peasants in Cereliath. The poor are hungry, and someone has been feeding them. They believe it’s the Shadow.” Killian gave a slow nod. I could see his eyes swirling, processing the information in his quiet way.

“The only people starving in Cereliath are those who refuse to work,” the king said.

Or those who can’t, I thought, gritting my teeth.

Damien rubbed his face, throwing his arm over the back of his chair.

Killian’s head snapped back toward me. “This only proves that the boy was working with the Shadow. Not that the Shadow is connected to the Dark Fae.”

The king leaned forward, his thick brows lifting with the corners of his mouth. “Do you find this to be true, my Blade?” he asked, licking his lips.

I paused. “I didn’t find anydirectevidence of the Dark Fae while I was in Cereliath. The boy was adamant he had never dealt with them.” Another lie. Rylan hadn’t been able to confirm one way or the other.

“So the true threat is this Shadow menace,” Damien said, smirking at his brother. “Did I not say as much the last time you were in this throne room?” He turned to face me with the same cocky grin on his face.

The king slumped back in his throne and levied a cold stare at his eldest son.

“I would like to hear your indirect evidence,” Killian interrupted. His rosy lips were parted in a testing smile.

“Your Highness?” I asked, tilting my head toward the prince.

“You said you didn’t find anydirectevidence,” he said, with a small wave of his hand. “I would like to hear what your indirect evidence is.”

The king nodded while Damien rolled his eyes.

“The conspirator that spoke with Rylan was carrying a blade,” I said. “It was Elven-made and too fine a weapon for a mere criminal to carry.” Killian’s lips twitched. “And,” I continued, “the Shadow fights too well. Whoever he is, he is too strong to be Mortal. And if he was a Halfling from Elverath he would not be trained in combat.” The king believed male Halflings were too dangerous to arm so he put them to work instead. He left his army to those he could trust—Mortal men—and those he could control—the Shades.

“You fought the Shadow again?” Damien cut in, sitting up in his chair. His jade eyes were murderous.

Sweat pooled at the small of my back and my heart hammered against my chest. If I wanted to convince the king to send me after the Shadow, I could not tell him I failed to beat him again.

“I was referencing our duel in Volcar,” I answered coolly. “As far as I know, the Shadow was never in Cereliath during my stay.” Damien collapsed back in his chair. Killian studied me, his eyes roamed along my face and limbs. It wasn’t the predatory stare of his brother, but a curious one. I thought he was going to say something, but he leaned back and looked out the window instead.