Page 156 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Not a breath. Not a twitch.

I stood between them, stunned, the air tight in my lungs.

I thought I understood Remy’s betrayal, his lies, his masks, the secrets he’d wrapped around us like silk. I thought I knew the depths of his darkness.

But the look in Solei’s eyes…

The truth in it…

I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Chapter

Thirty-Six

The scent of scorched wood still clung to the smoldering ruins of The Crooked Claw, and the sun had begun to dip behind the rooftops, painting the sky in pale-gold. We continued working, shifting broken beams and hauling charred furniture to the carts that lined the muddy road.

Then a voice cut through the clatter of cleanup, too loud to be casual.

“You’re the bastard that called his flying lizard, aren’t you?”

I turned toward the voice instinctively, as did half the townsfolk within earshot.

A heavyset man with soot-streaked sleeves and a crooked nose stepped forward from the edge of the crowd. His hair was sweat-matted to his brow, and he stank of ale and smoke. His eyes locked onto Remy like a wolf catching scent of blood.

Remy straightened, his stance unreadable. “You got something to say?”

“You sabotaged us,” the man accused, jabbing a thick finger toward the wreckage. “The king’s a madman. He has lost the respect of the court. And your prince regent’s playing both sides, funneling coin to the Varnari like it’ll save his throne.”

Murmurs rolled through the gathered workers like distant thunder.

Remy’s tone was even, almost bored. “You talk like you know a lot about things no drunk should.”

The man sneered. “I know the Crimson Sigil will be victorious. While the nobles bicker and the dragons sleep on the isle, protecting their young, we are organizing. And when we rise? The riders will burn with the rest of them.”

Remy’s smile was razor-thin. “That’s a bold statement to make when you’re standing five feet from a bonded rider.”

“You ain’t got a dragon at your back now,” the man spat.

“But I do,” Remy said calmly, his voice laced with steel, “and if he thought I was in danger, this conversation would’ve ended already.”

The man hesitated.

Riven and Naia had moved closer to me, shoulders brushing mine as we pretended to focus on the splintered timber in front of us. But all three of us were locked in, ears tuned, breaths held.

Remy shifted slightly, his tone lowering, turning almost conversational.

“You said the prince regent’s funding the Varnari. That’s a serious claim. Where’d you hear it?”

The man snorted. “You think we don’t see what’s going on? Guards look the other way. Coin passing hands. Supplies vanishing from the storehouses before they’re even inventoried.”

“And the Sigil?” Remy asked, casual as a breeze. “You part of it?”

“I will be,” the man said, proud. “They’re choosing us. The ones who’ve been used for generations. When the lines are drawn, you’ll see. We’re already here. Just waiting.”

Remy nodded once, thoughtful, like he was merely indulging a drunk’s rant. “And what’s the goal? What happens after the dragons fall?”

The man’s grin was all teeth.