Page 114 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

His eyes darkened further. “What did she say to you?”

“Enough,” I said, keeping my voice even. “To know the Blood Fae are manipulating more than just us. Enough to know Warriath is a pawn in someone else’s war.”

He stared at me, as if trying to read the truth in my skin.

But he didn’t say I was wrong.

And that silence told me everything.

“He will kill you when he gets what he wants from you. This stay of execution is just that. He never revokes a contract.”

I took a slow step toward Remy, heart pounding with something deeper than anger. I met his gaze, firm and unflinching, even as his storm brewed hot behind his eyes.

“That’s not true,” I said quietly. “Cyran has revoked an order before.”

Remy snorted, lips curling. “You think you know how Cyran works? You were a shadow in the Order compared to?—”

“No,” I cut in. “I know because I saw it. Remember the merchant from Prima? The one you were tracking the night I first met you?”

His posture shifted slightly, the faintest hint of recognition flickering behind his expression. I pressed forward.

“You had him cornered in the alley. I followed you and I wasn’t even sure what you were yet. But you didn’t kill him. Youlooked him in the eyes and said, ‘You’re not worth the blood on my blade.’ Then you walked away.”

“I remember,” he said, but there was no warmth in his voice.

“That wasn’t for show,” I continued. “You meant it. I felt it. That man was terrified, Remy, and you let him go.”

His jaw clenched. The silence dragged before he finally answered, voice low.

“I was ordered to let him go. Two days later I tracked him down and slit his throat.” He stepped closer, eyes sharp. “You think Cyran changed his mind? No. He had that man followed until he found what he was after.”

My throat tightened.

Remy’s voice dropped into something quieter, more dangerous. “You think Cyran has let go of you? That this is mercy?” He shook his head. “It’s a game. He’s waiting.”

“You think the Order will still kill me,” I said, not even a question.

“Yes,” he said flatly. “Because they never stop. Not unless they get what they want... or you’re already dead.”

The room was silent around us. My squad hadn’t moved, but I could feel the shift in the air. The weight of truth. The shape of a threat that never stopped breathing.

And the knowledge that I was still being hunted, only now, I might not see the blade coming.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

The dining hall buzzed with the usual morning noise, clinking plates, low chatter, the occasional burst of laughter from Iron Fang’s table. But I wasn’t listening to any of it. My eyes drifted toward the far corner where Perin sat hunched over his food, and sure enough, he was glaring at me like I’d personally shattered his favorite sword.

I met his gaze for a heartbeat, unbothered, then turned away.

Not worth it.

I focused back on my squad, their voices drawing me in like warmth after a long night.

“We need to know what the Inquisitor asked Crownwatch,” Riven muttered around a mouthful of bread. “It would be a good comparison.”

“We don’t need to ask,” Tae said smoothly, lifting his mug. “He only questioned them about the mission to retrieve Dorian. That was it.”