Boult hesitated. “I’ve wanted him to suffer for so long. I wanted him to die as painfully as possible. And now that the moment’s here, I just don’t care.”
“All right, we’ll let Queen Anais decide,” Harp agreed.
But Kitto stepped forward and calmly shoved his sword into the base of Cardew’s throat. Cardew opened his mouth in surprise, but no words came. Kitto pulled his sword out, and blood welled out of the wound, flowed down Cardew’s neck and chest, and stained his snow-white shirt. In the time it took for the others to comprehend what had happened, Cardew was dead.
“He tried to kill Liel,” Kitto said unapologetically. “He framed Boult. He tortured Harp. What about what he did to me? The Branch of Linden owned Captain Predeau. Their coin kept him going. He treated me like a slave and nearly beat me to death. If you weren’t going to kill him for yourselves, then he was going to die for me.”
“All right, fine with me,” Harp told him without hesitation.
“Good riddance,” Boult agreed.
“I have an idea, Boult,” Harp said as they prepared to climb up the ropes that had been left by Tresco’s men. “Instead of Tethyr, let’s meet on the Moonshae Isles.”
“The cove?” Liel asked as a huge smile spread across Kitto’s face. “Does Boult know about the safe haven?”
“Harp’s talked about it so damn much, I could find it in my sleep,” Boult said. “How long do you think it will take you to reach Ysabel?”
“As long as it takes to get to the camp and open the portal,” Harp answered.
“Try to make it fast,” Boult urged them. “You have to get to her before Tresco does.”
“We’ll hurry,” Liel promised.
“Safe home, then,” said Harp, extending his hand to Boult, who clasped it warmly.
“Safe home, brother,” Boult replied.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
4 Flamerule, the Year of the Ageless One
(1479 DR)
Kinnard Keep, Tethyr
Hello, Ysabel,” Tresco said as he stepped through the door and into the warm air of the atrium. The glass atrium was on the western side of Kinnard Keep, and Ysabel insisted that the gardeners keep flowers blooming all year round, especially in the cold winter months when the outside gardens were barren and lifeless.
Surrounded by jade plants and hanging baskets, Ysabel sat at a stone table near an ornamental tree blooming with crimson flowers. She wore a light blue dress with white embroidery down the sides, and her hair was pulled back in a loose braid. The leather-bound book on the marble tabletop looked vaguely familiar-probably one from Tresco’s library-but she wasn’t reading when he opened the door. Instead, she’d been staring out at the windswept heath through the condensation on the glass panes.
“Good day, Uncle,” she said politely, her hands resting demurely in her lap. “Are you back from your business so soon?”
“Yes.” Tresco set a leather case on the table in front of her. “I returned yesterday afternoon, but the servants said you had already retired to your quarters, and I didn’t care to trouble you.”
“Is Master Cardew with you?” she asked, glancing at the case and then up at Tresco.
“He is not,” Tresco answered. “Am I to understand that the two of you quarreled?”
“It was merely a trifle, Uncle,” she replied. “Please sit and tell me about your journey.”
“Why do you sit in the atrium? You know it’s the least protected room in the castle. And where are your guards?”
“They are merely out of sight,” Ysabel replied obliquely.
“That is not acceptable,” Tresco fumed. “They have orders to guard you at all times …”
“Won’t you sit?” Ysabel said sharply.
“I do not wish to,” Tresco said irritably. That wasn’t true at all. He had planned on having a leisurely lunch with the girl. It was so unlike Ysabel to be anything but compliant.
“Then leave, Uncle.” She looked away from him and opened the leather cover of her book.
“I’ll remind you that this is my house, and you are my ward,” Tresco said in a firm tone.
For a moment, Ysabel sat frozen and stared down at her hands. But when she looked up at Tresco, there was a placid look on her pretty features. Tresco felt his frustration ease. That was the expression he was accustomed to seeing on Ysabel’s face. Now, they could enjoy a pleasant afternoon. “My apologies, Uncle. My thoughts weigh heavily on my mind.”
“What is wrong?” Tresco asked, pulling out one of the wrought-iron chairs. It scratched across the paving stones with an irritating metallic sound. “Are you upset with Cardew?”
“When I last spoke to him, he told me that you two were going to secure an object of great importance.”
“Did he?” Tresco’s anger reappeared instantly. Declan Cardew had to be one of the dimmest people he’d ever had the misfortune of working with, including the ogres at the Vankila Slab. “Well, Declan shouldn’t have troubled you with such nonsense. It’s none of your concern.”
“Are you angry with him?” Ysabel asked.
Tresco sighed. “Cardew is useful, but not necessarily the brightest man in the realm.”
“Useful how?” Ysabel prompted.
“Like a gilded sign above a merchant’s door,” Tresco replied. He enjoyed his quip although he didn’t expect his ward to understand his private jest. But Ysabel looked at him without confusion.
“A merchant who sells flour sacks filled with sawdust,” she replied.
“What did you say?” Tresco asked in surprise.
Ysabel gave him an accommodating smile. “I have begun to doubt … the quality of Cardew’s character.”
“That’s interesting,” Tresco said, with a sense of relief that her comment had been about Cardew and nothing more substantial. “I have as well.”
“Do you still want me to marry him?”
Tresco pushed back his chair back from the table and paced up and down the flagstone path. Ysabel watched him patiently. It was too warm in the atrium, and there was an unpleasant scent of acrid earth and overripe fruit in the air, but neither guardian nor ward seemed to notice.
“Unfortunately, my plans have changed,” Tresco said finally. “I don’t think he is the right match for you after all.”
“What a surprise.” Ysabel didn’t sound surprised at all.
“Yes, my dear. I have made other arrangements for you.” Tresco stopped his pacing and came to stand beside her chair.
“Before we discuss your plans for my future,” Ysabel said, “let’s talk about what’s in the case.”
“Why should we talk about the case?” Tresco asked.
“Because that case holds the culmination of your life’s work,” she explained. “Work that was never yours to begin with. Evonne discovered something miraculous, and when you found her manuscript, her research propelled you to things far beyond your comprehension. She was the giant, and you just used her to become what you are.”
Tresco narrowed his eyes. “Did Cardew tell you that? In some aspects, you are correct. Based on your mother’s notes, I discovered the existence of a powerful artifact.”
“That’s what you brought back from the jungle-the artifact?” Ysabel asked, resting her fingertips against the old leather of the case. “And it’s in here?”
“No,” he replied with a self-satisfied smile. “It’s around my neck.” He adjusted the collar of his tunic to show Ysabel the twist of tarnished metal around his throat.
“What a pity,” she mused.
“Why?” He was perplexed and unnerved by her manner. She seemed different. Her spine was as straight as an arrow, and her voice sounded deeper than the little-girl’s voice he was accustomed to hearing from her.
“Why?” he demanded again.
“Look, Uncle.” She pointed over his shoulder at the glass-paned door that led out of the atrium and into the inner courtyard of Kinnard Keep. “We have visitors.”
“I’m not expecting anyone,” Tresco said. He turned abruptly to see who would be fool enough to traipse across the moor in such nasty weather.