Page 39

Chapter 39

Rahk

My mind turns over this new information as I march into the house. The image of Kat’s trembling shoulders refuses to leave me. I think of all the times she didn’t buckle—like when she took a knife from an assassin. I don’t want to care about her past. She lied to me so many times, refused to trust me, and got us into this mess of a marriage.

Truly, though, I care. I care a frightening amount about the wrongs done to this woman. I successfully kept my composure in front of her.

But I am furious.

I want to march to Lady Duxbury Vandermore’s home and demand restitution. I want that woman crawling through the mud in the filthiest part of Ashbourne. The dark fae part of me, the Nothril part of me, wants her blood.

“Master Rahk! The queen has replied!”

I pause in the hallway as Edvear rushes toward me, carrying a sealed letter. The door across from my study is open, and I can just see the chipped shoulder and curly hair of the Botsov bust from where I stand.

“This is good news that she has replied so quickly, right?” asks Edvear, who knows nothing of what I wrote to her. “Maybe she will cooperate now that you married Lady Vandermore.”

I don’t reply as I accept the note, step inside my study, and break the seal.

Lord Rahk Varadirth,

My sources have confirmed reports of the troll. Give this troll the enclosed note and bid him leave.

It is signed with a stamped crest instead of a name. The enclosed note slides into my palm. It is not even sealed. I open it and read.

Troll,

As the ruler of this land, I bid you return to the Long Lost Wood forever.

The queen of Harbright

I sigh and slide the note into my pocket. Ymer will not take kindly to this. Still, I will give the note to him, if for no other purpose than to show the queen that she must come speak to him herself if he is going to leave.

This is good, I tell myself as I make my way out of the house and try not to search for a glimpse of where Kat might be. This is an excellent distraction from the last two days.

I find Ymer exactly where I left him last night. He does not call out to me as usual, but glares between slitted rocky eyelids as I approach. His knobby fist closes around his cudgel, threatening me silently.

“Ymer the Indefatigable. I come bearing word from the ruler of this land,” I call, holding up the letter.

Several thick, corkscrew hairs protrude above his lip. He scrunches them in a snarl. “Ymer sees no ruler of the land.”

A sudden thought occurs to me. I almost groan. “Does Ymer the Indefatigable discern the mystery of these human symbols?”

It is the reverent way of asking if he can read.

His curiosity allows me close enough to slide the note with my foot up to him. I retreat quickly as he bends forward, squinting at the page. “Ymer knows many symbols.”

I wait, arms crossed over my chest, my wings folded close to my back.

Ymer grunts. He plants both giant hands on either side of the page, which looks comically small compared to him, and bends his face down to it. Slowly, he lifts his snarl to me. “You play tricks on Ymer. There are no symbols on this page.”

I dart upward into the sky, my wings carrying me out of reach of Ymer’s grabbing fist. Sometimes I forget how bad troll eyesight is—regardless of whether Ymer could have read the writing anyway.

“Ymer will rip your limbs apart for trying to trick Ymer with paper!” He stabs a long nail through the paper and lifts it to his teeth, where he shreds it to pieces. “You are no ruler of this land!”

That went well, I think as I fly back the way I came. Maybe now that I’ve exhausted the easiest option, the queen will leave her comfortable palace and come to the border. One word from her— one word —and this whole thing is over.

But that would just be too easy now, wouldn’t it?

When I fly back to my estate, I find myself watching the grounds, looking for a sign that Kat is still outside. I find none.