Page 53 of Keeper of the Word (The Unsung and the Wolf Duology #2)

Chapter

Forty-Eight

TOLVAR

T olvar came out of oblivion and awoke to night’s darkness. Pain consumed him. The shadowed, velvety space told him he was in a tent. He shifted on the chair to which he was bound. The coarse rope knotted around his wrists bit into him. Muffled sounds told him he had moments.

Stars, his head pounded. It made it difficult to concentrate.

Scanning the darkened tent, Tolvar saw no tool or weapon that could aid him.

A sense of hopelessness sat on his shoulder as he fought to struggle out of the binding. It only made the rope cut deeper into him.

He ceased and found himself panting against the effort. The roof of his mouth felt rough and parched. How long had he been out? Suddenly, the thought of water was the only idea he could focus on.

Flexing his arms again, he grappled with the impossible rope.

Fool, he thought. His head hung at his chest.

The murmur of voices outside made unwanted prickles slip down his neck. What did his captors have in store for him?

His thigh wound gaped open at him; his hose was wet with his blood. If they had not dressed his wounds, they were not concerned with keeping him alive.

The flap of the tent opened, and Turas entered.

“Traitor,” Tolvar said, his voice hoarse.

Turas kept his face expressionless. He stooped so they were eye-level. “How I wish you would have gone to Ashwin with your army. ’Twould have been much better that way. You could have died a hero.”

Tolvar kept silent and glared his Wolf glare.

“You cannot frighten me with that glare, Tolvar. I have known you since you were knee-high.”

“All the more cause to call you a traitor.”

“The realm is about to change. And needfully so, I must say. The House of Sidra has sat upon the throne long enough. King Rian is more concerned with his nightly banquets than the welfare of the empire.”

Tolvar flexed and unflexed his jaw.

Turas gave a low chuckle as he stood. “Stars. And to think we’ve put so much thought into this when mayhap all we needed was Dashiell.”

Tolvar hated that he couldn’t stop himself but said anyway, “What about the prince?”

“You must know something , what with you whisking that StarSeer to Asalle and all. Tsk-tsk. While luring you away from Asalle and dreadful King Rian’s ear was, of course, all part of the plan, I believe you shall probably regret not staying.”

Tolvar gritted his teeth.

“Oh. Of course. You’ve not heard. The sovereign and his heir are at odds.

Quite publicly so. ’Tis a brilliant distraction for the sovereign.

And now the prince is missing. Apparently, he’s in love with some lowly peasant.

” Turas laughed again. “He’s fled Asalle to be with her, so the rumors say. He has fallen right into our plans.”

Tolvar cocked an eyebrow.

“Aye. ’Tis only part of it, of course. A permanent wedge between the sovereign and heir.

” Turas poured himself a drink from a pitcher that stood on a nearby table and drank.

“What plans these have been. More than a mere storming of a certain castle.” He winked, and Tolvar redoubled his effort in pulling against his binding.

“’Tis triple bound.” He took another drink.

“A specialty for the Wolf. But speaking of that day at Thorin Court, I thank you for allowing me to count on you and your antics surrounding Crevan. He said that your hatred would play into everything.” He swallowed another gulp.

“And that you have. Despite the need to make concessions for what it meant to have the Wolf return to the Capella Realm, everything is proceeding quite nicely.”

Tolvar shook his head. “ You, of all people, are collaborating with Crevan? ’Twas you who laid siege at Thorin Court and won it back. You lost scores of men.”

“I’m not certain collaborating is the term I’d use. More like using him and his madness to my benefit. And, of course, using the new…company he keeps.”

Why did Turas pause at the word “company”?

“And true, I did lose scores of men.” Turas crouched again. “And I asked myself why. Why did I exert such resources into winning back a castle I cared naught for?”

“You were fostered at Thorin Court!”

Turas shrugged. “I was at the bidding of my sovereign, who, over the years, has been more and more greedy about ensuring that Blagdon not outshine the blessed Asalle. Did you know I was the only earl to have my taxes raised in the last three years? And ’twas right after I’d won back Askella for the sovereign, ne’er asking to be reimbursed by Asalle.

What did I care for Countess Pamella? She was your betrothed, not mine.

And when I am sovereign, I shall see to it that circumstances change. ”

Tolvar snorted. “When you are sovereign?”

“Do not look so incredulous. As I said, everything is proceeding quite nicely.”

“But Crevan? Turas, you’re mad. Crevan is under the influence of Adrienne. Which means that he, like the Curse, cannot be ‘used’ as you put it.” Tolvar huffed. “I would say you must be under the influence, too, but hearing all this illustrates your utter stupidity. ”

Turas socked Tolvar. His teeth cut his lip in the blow.

Tolvar spit blood. “And how exactly do you think you shall attain this? Will you waltz into Asalle with an army and overthrow it? You’ll ne’er breach it. ’Tis impenetrable. Not to mention, guarded by the stars themselves.”

Turas flexed his hand that had punched Tolvar—obviously out of practice—and topped off his goblet. “As I said, a grand plan. Try three armies. And they have a way in. You could say that, in a way, we’ve already breached Asalle. And, of course, ’tis only protected if the StarSeers live.”

Tolvar’s head jerked.

“As I said, you could have died a hero.”

Tolvar’s eyes widened as he considered Turas’s words. His own army on their way to Ashwin with Kyrie, who was outside her protective walls.

Elanna!

Turas scratched his neck; Tolvar thought he detected a dark trace of a line there. “How did your brother put it? If you cannot call up the darkness, bring down the light?”