Page 72

“You know how they are,” Ayan continues. “If you have a conflict, you settle it with words. Fighting is bad, violence is evil, and so on and so forth.”

I glance at Pranmore, wondering how he’s taking the news. He stares at Ayan, his eyes slitted with disbelief, waiting to call the High Vale on his lie.

“Since that was beaten into my antlerless head from the time I was a tot, I have trouble calling my magic.”

“But youcan?” Clover presses.

Ayan nods quickly. “Yes.”

“How?”

“I have to be rather upset. Anger seems to break the wall that locks it away.”

“You weren’t angry when Harlon was trying to capture you?” Lawrence asks incredulously.

Ayan shakes his head. “Not with him, not really. He didn’t put the bounty on my head after all. What if I’d been a real criminal?”

“What about when the ralnauth was going to eat Henrik?” Bartholomew croaks, finally awake. “You weren’t mad then?”

“Concerned, certainly. But not angry.” Ayan forces a laugh. “How can you be upset with a creature that’s just following its instincts? Food is food, right?”

Pranmore makes an understanding noise of agreement, and I groan aloud.

“Why,” I snarl, and then I pause to control myself. Once I’m confident my tone will be even, I begin again, “Why did you agree to accompany us on the mission when you knew you would draw attention to our group?”

A guilty look crosses Ayan’s face. “I didn’tknowI’d draw attention to the group—I had no idea I spooked Auggy that badly. And I figured the arrangement could be mutually beneficial. After all, I have visited Ferradelle once—”

“Once?” I demand.

“—and I have a vague idea how to navigate the duke’s city.” Then he quickly adds, “Also, I thought you might help me overthrow Augmirian.”

Before I can toss him out of the boat, the High Vale throws up his hands as if to keep me back and hastily continues, “Which only benefits you in the long run. I can assure you, I have no desire to instigate war between our people. I’m a Woodmore at heart—I love humans.” He gives Clover a wink. “Especially the female ones.”

“Ayan,” I growl.

“It’s a win/win!” he insists. “There’s no compromise to our alliance.”

My eye twitches, and I rub my hand over my face. “For just one moment, let’s say you’re not lying through your teeth. Where’s your father’s will that proves it?”

“Ah, that.” Ayan clears his throat and studies the shore. “Augmirian took it.”

“He took it,” I say tonelessly.

“Wouldn’t you if you weren’t keen to give up your title and the power that comes with it?”

Lawrence yawns, looking exhausted from the long, tiring night. “If you’re telling the truth, and you let your brother get his hands on that will, you must know that he’s destroyed it. There’s no way he’d leave that sort of document floating around for someone to find.”

“From what I understand, High Vale documents are virtually indestructible,” Pranmore says, closing his journal with a sigh. “They use protection spells when they’re sealed.”

Lawrence raises his eyebrows as if impressed by the ingenuity and then returns his attention to Ayan. “Is that true?”

The High Vale shrugs. “How would I know?”

Clover chokes back a laugh, obviously thinking the situation is ridiculous. We’re lost in the middle of a bog in Ferradelle, and our only guide is a High Vale who identifies as a Woodmore.

“Even if it can’t be destroyed, nothing is keeping Augmirian from tying it to a rock and sinking it to the bottom of the bog,” Lawrence points out.

Pranmore nods. “That’s true.”