Page 133 of The Crimson Throne
I square myself in front of Alyth.
He snapped Darnley’s neck without even touching him. What else is Cecil capable of?
Is he the High Blade Alyth mentioned? He must be—he’s been in control of everything from the start.
And if he’s the High Blade, what does that make me?
Alyth puts her hand on my back. She’s not shaking. She’s steady and sure, and I lean on that confidence.
Cecil clocks my stance, Alyth behind me.
He scowls. “Have you outlived your usefulness as well, Samson?”
My jaw clamps, stomach souring. I don’t want to play my hand until I’m sure where he’s standing, what he thinks of me, so I just hover, watching him.
“I’d have been more useful,” I snap, “if you’d told me what the hell was going on from the start.”
Cecil smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “You figured it out, then?” He looks at Alyth. “How much?”
I don’t want him looking at her.
I can feel her hands moving behind my back. Is she forming some kind of magic to get us away from him? I’ll buy her time.
“You used me as a test for that amulet getting through the barrier,” I tell him. “And you must’ve had more to get across. How long have you been here? Another Red Cap in Scotland.”
Cecil’s smile is true now. Wide and pleased. “I’ve been here long enough to know that Darnley failed. Our power was always too much for him to handle. But you—you’ve proven more adaptable than I gave you credit for.” He says it like I’m trash under his shoe, like I’m Darnley’s dead body lying between us. “She will have further use for you.”
Alyth stills behind me. It kicks through me as I process Cecil’s words.
One word.
“She?” I frown at him.
Alyth steps up beside me, out from what feeble protection I can offer her, but there’s a determination in her gaze that stops me from hauling her back behind me.
“You”—Alyth faces Cecil, her jaw high, her eyes steady and sure—“aren’t the High Blade.”
Not Cecil?
Who is the High Blade, then?
She…
A slow, taunting smile crawls across Cecil’s face. He looks back at me with a glint in his eyes.
“I see you haven’t figured out everything,” he says. He nods at Alyth. “If you want to live to see the High Blade, you’ll finish what Darnley set you up to do.”
My hands fist. I’m gonna refuse, and he knows it; he cocks an eyebrow.
“Prove your usefulness to the High Blade,” he tells me, “and kill the barrier guardian.”
35
Alyth
I see the auras before I see the soldiers. I was too worried about Samson to really note the way my simple privacy bubble has been far too efficient nor how the few people remaining in the courtyard all have the same crimson-streaked auras.
The same magic.
