Page 148 of Cursed Evermore

“Looks like we're all in agreement, so I sanction the curfew,” Dreynthor announced, lifting his chin with arrogant grace.

He looked at me as if he were doing me a favor, and I responded with a tight-lipped smile, hating that I needed his endorsement for anything.

As Lord Commander, I had substantial authority over public security, but I still needed his fucking seal of approval for matters like these.

“Is there anything else you'd like to add, Your Highness?” he asked, his tone measured and deceptively mild.

“Only that my Bloodsworn and I will be personally overseeing patrols. There are whispers of rebel camps in the Thornwood and near the old mines. I want to ensure we go in with our strongest. We'll also be conducting security sweeps through the major trade routes, so we cover all bases.” I needed to let Dreynthor think I'd be busy enough so that if he didn't see me around, he wouldn't question it. Until I'd performed the tracking spell, I had to do everything I could to keep him away from my plans.

“Excellent.” He so rarely paid me a compliment, it was interesting to hear one fall from his lips.

The council members looked pleased, too. Though, I supposed they were only playing nice and holding off their usual wariness of me because they knew I was their best chance at containing the rebels, thereby keeping their own necks safe.

“The final thing I'd like to discuss are the funerals.” Dreynthor looked at everyone at the table, his expressiongrowing somber. “I've decided on a private burial, so we'll have a Veil's Parting here tomorrow night at the palace. Only council members and members of the victims' families will be in attendance.”

I thought of the victims, the handmaidens in particular. The memory of their deaths pulled at my dark soul like chains. Apart from Sirril, they were the last of the people from my childhood who'd taken care of me. A Veil's Parting, where their bodies would be given two gold coins to pay Titania's Tithe then burned, didn't seem enough for them. They were the best of us and deserved better. They deservedlife.

Silence settled over the room like a funeral shroud. The sort of silence where people grieved, reflected, and renewed gratitude for their own beating hearts.

“If there's nothing else, we can close the meeting for today.” Dreynthor spoke in a respectfully low tone, then gave everyone a moment to offer any further discussion. When no one did, he closed off the meeting with the ring of his bell. But then he looked at me with those calculating eyes. “Stay back, Wolfe. I'd like a word.”

“Sure.”Fuck. I hoped to the Gods he hadn't found out anything about my little excursion. It was more than likely that he hadn't, or I'd know about it already. And we wouldn't be sitting here acting civilized.

I nodded to Alaric and Bastian, who phased with the other council members, disappearing into the air with their mission plans all set. At least everyone was exactly where they were supposed to be.

Within seconds, only Dreynthor and I remained in the hall, his sharp eyes staring at me with the intensity of a predator sizing up prey.

As I looked back at him, face to face, eye to eye, I wondered yet again about his connection to my father's murder.

I wished I knew what he did. Better yet, I wished I had evidence to take him down. And now that we had the rebels to deal with, it stole precious time I needed to focus on the bigger picture at stake.

“You were away for quite some time, nephew.” Dreynthor scanned my face, as if searching for some clue or shit to use against me. “Haven't seen you since before Nyxara Valtheris.”

Fire crackled softly in the hearth, too tame for the bitterness that had suddenly entered the room. “I was busy. It was on the eve of Nyxara Valtheris that we found the handmaidens' bodies.” That was the night my tracker wraith returned to me with news of the thief and my ring. My quest to the mortal realm began the very next day.

“Which was exactly why I expected to see you. The handmaidens were like family to us, and they were murdered so close to the palace. That warranted a meeting between us. I should not have heard about their deaths from your guard.”

He was right. He also appeared to be genuinely aggrieved over the handmaidens' deaths, but I didn't care. I knew him. Dreynthor wore many faces like masks in a play.

This one was the one he wanted me to see today. The next breath could see him doling out a death sentence or a public whipping to some poor soul just because he didn't like the way they looked at him.

Everything about him churned my insides. Especially the way he hid behind the blanket of justice and integrity for the people while doing his dirty dealings in the shadows.

I steadied my mind and thought up a reasonable answer. I'd led him to believe I was pursuing the rebels, but now I needed to cement the lie.

“I had to leave as soon as possible to follow my lead.” I kept my expression as neutral as my uncle's cold gaze. “The fact that they killed on our grounds highlighted the gravity of thesituation. I didn't want the chance to either end this or find out more information to slip away from me.”

“And what news do you bring to me of your excursion?” His pale eyes almost seemed opaque in the waning sun, filled with the curiosity and suspicion I'd worried about. Which was why I'd carried an ace up my sleeve.

“They have someone feeding them information about our patrol routes.”

His brows shot up, almost disappearing into his hairline, and he balled a hand into a tight fist. “An informant? One of our own?”

“Yes. The timing of their attack was too precise to be coincidence. And the vast spread of insurgence suggests more than one leader. I think a group of them have banded together for a common cause.”

“You have proof of this?” He held my gaze, tightening his fist until his knuckles went white.

“No solid proof yet, but the evidence strongly supports my theory.” I didn't need proof. And though Dreynthor might have hated me in other ways, he knew I wasalwaysright about things like these.