Chapter 49. A Princess Remembers a Name She Never Knew She Lost

Chapter 49: 49. A Princess Remembers a Name She Never Knew She Lost

"Leon..."

I heard her voice behind me that snapped me back to my usual self.

It was very small... and very quiet, and it came from right behind me... real close.

Millie was standing at my shoulder. She hadn’t run, or screamed, or grabbed my arm.

She’d just walked up beside me, and she was standing there with her hands clasped in front of her and her ears flat against her head. I can see that her eyes were red from crying.

"Leon... please," she whispered.

She didn’t tell me to stop. She didn’t tell me what to do.

She just asked, in that small, shaking voice.

I stood there, with the blade at his throat and my whole body trembling, and I thought about the merchant in Frosthaven and the way the sword had gone in so easily.

I thought about what I’d said in the square, with a thousand people listening. I thought about what kind of man I wanted to be.

I took a breath... And another.

Then I decided to draw the sword back a few inches. Just so you know that I’m not being naive or anything... this dickhead better speak a lot of good information for him to stay alive for another second.

"He’s going to answer some questions," I said, and my voice was hoarse. "And then we’ll see how his fate is going to be..."

Behind me, I heard a quiet intake of breath.

I turned my head and saw Velora standing with her katana at her side, watching me. She’d seen the whole thing.

She’d seen me with the blade against his neck and every reason in the world to push it through. And she’d seen me stop.

Something in her face had changed. I didn’t know what, exactly...

But it wasn’t hatred. Ohoooo... seems like I get her in the leash, right?

The limiter release ended all at once, like someone had pulled a plug.

And of course... I should expect some side effects where my legs went first. I folded onto my knees in the ice and barely caught myself with one hand.

Every muscle in my body trembled.

My arms were a mess of cuts and bruises, and my shoulder was a bloody wreck.

I tried to close my fingers around the grip of Gate Junior and couldn’t.

Ding!

[Apex Physique: Limiter Release has ended.]

[Lust Energy: 61/100.]

[Passive decay doubled. Condition: Injured.]

Sixty-one. I stared at the number.

A few minutes ago it had been ninety-six. That meant I had burned thirty-five points in about ninety seconds.

And now... with the decay doubled by my injuries, I had about a week, maybe less, before I’d be in serious trouble.

’Great,’ I thought. ’That’s a very reasonable price for a sword fight... well, at least I got my cool moments for once in a while.’

A cold hand pressed against my chest.

I looked up and found Sylvara kneeling next to me, her face white as paper, her hat gone, and her beautiful hair... it was a tangled mess.

She had one palm flat against my breastbone, and her eyes were closed.

I felt something... A faint, strange hum, deep inside my body, like a string that had just been plucked.

It went on for several seconds, and I could see Sylvara’s brow furrowed and her lips parted slightly.

"The thread..." she whispered. "It is vibrating."

"What thread...?"

"Never mind." She opened her eyes.

They were sharp and very far away. "Later... I will explain it later."

"That’s not... reassuring."

"It is not meant to be."

She took her hand away and sat back, swaying slightly. I noticed that she was looking at me the way a scholar looks at a manuscript that she’s just realized is a lot more important than she thought.

And I noticed that she did not meet my eyes... what’s going on with her exactly...?

...

Maldric was tied to a boulder with a length of Nightclaw rope, and the questioning didn’t last long.

He didn’t beg. And he didn’t even scream.

He just sat there with his head tilted back against the stone, smiling faintly, like a man waiting for a very slow train.

"You must understand," he said pleasantly, "that it does not matter what I say..."

"The Chain does not need an army to take a princess." He glanced at Millie, standing a few feet away. "The moon walks to us... on her own."

Velora kicked the boulder hard. And Maldric didn’t even blink.

"How do you know her?" Bonette demanded.

She’d come forward, her knives still in her fists, and her face was a mask of fury. "How did you know she was alive?!"

"We did not know." His eyes drifted lazily toward Millie. "Not until the stones began to sing."

He looked at her for a long moment, with a strange, bright expression, almost tender. Then he said a name.

"Milunaria..."

I didn’t recognize it. But I felt Millie go rigid beside me, as if someone had put a cold hand on the back of her neck.

"Milunaria Lunhare," Maldric said softly. "Princess of the Moon."

Millie’s hands flew to her head. She gasped, and a thin ribbon of pale silver light flared across her skin, bright as lightning.

For half a second, her eyes went wide and unfocused, as if she were looking at something very far away.

Her knees buckled, and I caught her before she hit the ground. Then I looked at him.

"What are you...?! What are you doing to her?!"

Bonette let out a muffled scream, a thin, broken sound that made all of us jump. She had both hands over her mouth, and her face had gone chalk white.

"That... name," she whispered. "That name was never spoken outside the queen’s chamber..."

"There were two people alive who knew it... The queen and me!"

"A friend gave it to me," Maldric said, smiling. "A friend in the old court."

Bonette stared at him. I watched her face change, watched her fury turn to something far colder and more frightened.

"Who?" she demanded. "Who told you?!"

Maldric opened his mouth. I saw the words forming.

But before he could speak, a tiny mark on the side of his neck, a brand shaped like a gold chain link, began to glow.

SWASSSHH!

It flared from dull orange to blinding white.

His eyes went wide. He screamed once, a high, ragged sound, and smoke poured from the mark.

"GAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHH! HELPPPEEEGGGHH! MEEEGGHHHH!!!"

Then the light burned through him, and his head dropped forward... and he was dead.

Son of a bitch... someone stole my kill.

Nobody moved.

The smell of burnt flesh hung in the cold air. The only sound was the wind in the gorge and the faint rattle of a loose stone rolling down the cliff.

"Silenced," Velora said, very quietly. "Seems like the Chain does not allow its lieutenants to talk..."

I stared at the body... honestly, I felt sick.

This treatment is the same as getting sniped by someone who doesn’t want him to speak about the truth.

Yikes.

I looked around at the faces in the dim light just to make sure that everyone’s alright... but... I can see Bonette shaking, Sylvara’s pale face, Elsbeth’s hollow eyes, and Millie clinging to my arm, and a cold thought crept into my head.

Somebody close to the old Lunhare court had given that name to the Chain.

Somebody had betrayed the princess... And that somebody might be alive and might be close.

I looked at every face in the circle, and I couldn’t be sure of any of them.

The sun had long since set by the time the dead were counted.

Two Nightclaw riders were gone.

Five more were wounded, and one horse was lost.

The twenty-odd Wolfkin who hadn’t transformed were still kneeling in the pass, held in place by Sylvara’s weakening threads with their eyes glowing.

Bryn crawled over to me, her hands shaking, and said that maybe... just maybe, the same thing could work again.

If Sylvara could hold the crystals one by one, and someone could reach out, maybe more of them could be saved.

It was a thin hope, I thought. But it can still be called hope.

I told her that I’d try.

...

Elsbeth buried Torunn herself.

There wasn’t time for a proper grave. But she dug a shallow hollow beneath the shelter of the cliff and laid the shattered wolf’s great head in it, covering it with stones.

Then she knelt and, with a small knife, cut a single lock of silver fur from the creature’s neck. She tied it carefully around the hilt of her sword.

She stood for a long time in front of the cairn with her back to the camp.

I didn’t go to her. I knew better at times like this.

I stayed a few paces behind her, near the horses, sharpening nothing in particular and watching the dark. I figured that if she wanted me, she’d say so.

After half an hour, she said, without turning, "You may come here."

I walked over. We stood side by side, looking at the little pile of stones.

"You didn’t have to do that alone," I said.

"I was not alone..."

I glanced at her, and she was looking straight ahead, her face stiff and cold. But her hands were trembling at her sides.

"She taught me everything," Elsbeth said quietly. "How to stand... how to fall... and how to get up again."

"She used to say that a warrior who cannot cry will never learn mercy." She swallowed. "I thought... it was a... foolish saying."

I didn’t answer that.

Slowly... without looking at me, she leaned sideways until her forehead came to rest against my shoulder.

She stayed that way for perhaps five seconds. Her breathing was slow and shaky.

I stood very still, as if any movement might scare off a wild animal.

Then she straightened... wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and said in the coldest voice I’d ever heard, "Tell no one of this..."

"What...? That you leaned on me?"

"Yes."

"Never."

She nodded, once. "Thank you."

"For not telling?"

"For everything... Do not make it a joke."

"I wouldn’t dream of it."

Elsbeth leaned her face close and kissed my lips, and that’s when I knew how to comfort her... by hugging her and then taking over the kiss.