Page 150 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

“You aredead, Rebec,” he growled.

I straightened, chest heaving, and held my rapier firmly. “Looks like you’re the one bleeding.”

His eyes flared with fury, and I knew this wasn’t over.

I followed Cade back to the ring designated for Thrall Squad, but noticed a figure slip into our room. “Cade, can I go to the washroom?”

Cade nodded and I jogged to my room. Solei was sitting on my bed when I opened the door. I raced to her and gave her a hug.

“It’s so good to see you. Why are you here?”

Solei winked at me. “Cyran wants to see you. I volunteered to give you the message.”

“The guards know you are here.”

“Of course they do, I made sure they informed Zander so I could speak with you.”

“I should have known, nobody would see you unless you wanted them to. What does Cyran want?”

“I don’t know, but he summoned you to come home. He offered amnesty, just in case you assumed someone meant you harm.”

“At least I know he isn’t trying to kill me. That’s something I suppose.” My gaze moved over Solei’s brown robes. She was dressed as a courier and blended perfectly except that she had her hood down, exposing her blond braids. “I miss you.”

She smiled. “I miss you too, but I am not about to fight your dragon to get next to you.”

I grunted. “Kaelith isn’t talking to me right now. I don’t know what is going on with her.”

She winked at me. “I hear dragons can be finicky. Don’t sweat it. Everybody falls in love with you, eventually.”

“Hardly,” I said. “Ring matches are almost done. I will slip away as soon as they finish.”

Solei got up from my bed. “I’ll see you at home.” She pulled the hood up over her head and slipped outside. I exited a minute later and rejoined my squad. When Zander returned, I motioned to him.

“Solei was here. My father wants to talk to me.”

His lips thinned. “It’s too dangerous.”

“He offered me amnesty. That means that I can meet with him and leave without incident. He won’t break Order code.”

Zander stepped away from me. “Prospect Rebec. You will report to a healer and return in one hour.”

I nodded and jogged toward the yarrow gardens before ducking to the side and exiting the front gate under Gerane’s watchful eye.

The streets of Warriath were alive with movement as I slipped through the winding alleys, hood pulled low to obscure my face. Merchants called out their prices, bartering voices rising above the crowd. The air smelled of roasted meat and stale ale, mixing with the dampness clinging to the cobblestone streets.

I turned down a narrow lane behind a tailor’s shop, past a pair of drunks slumped against a wall. The tavern was ahead—The Rusty Tankard. It looked no different than any other pub, but those who knew what they were looking for understood its true purpose. The Order of Thorn’s base was tucked beneath its foundation, hidden beneath layers of shadows and secrets.

The tavern’s interior was warm and loud. Bodies crowded around tables, men laughing too loudly and women curlingaround patrons who had too much coin and not enough sense. The bartender didn’t glance at me as I weaved through the tables, my steps purposeful as I headed toward the narrow staircase concealed at the back.

I descended as my boots scuffed the worn stone steps. The air cooled the deeper I went, lanterns flickering low on the walls. At the bottom, I made my way down the hall.

Cyran was already waiting in his office. The room smelled of parchment and pipe smoke, his dark wood desk littered with maps and letters. His sharp gaze flicked to me the moment I entered.

“You look different,” he said, voice casual but laced with that ever-present calculation.

“Not really,” I replied evenly, stepping into the room.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “I heard a rumor.”