Page 102 of His Realm

“Because that’s what you wanted. Isn’t it the place of a father to give their child the confidence to use their wings so they can fly away?”

He scoffed. “Spoken like a man who will never be one.”

But I had plans to be a father, and his medieval thinking wasn’t about to crush my dreams. The fact that he hadn’t denied what he’d done to his sons was horrifying.

“You purposely had them drink blood you knew would hurt them. And now? Do you have a plan to save yourself and your sons?”

He leaned forward then, and I saw the fresh blood on the bandages. “My plan is to have your precious blood before Varic arrives and slaughters Ødger.”

I heard the creak behind me. If I hadn’t, I’d be dead.

Instead of turning to look, I slid out of the chair to the floor. I’d been trained in close-quarter fighting, and one of the things my instructor in the Corps had always stressed was, don’t waste time identifying who’s trying to kill you, just get away.

On the floor, I rolled sideways and saw Balon with a spatha in his hand that would have easily taken my head.

“Cirillo!” I yelled, and he was on his feet as four men surged around him.

“No!” Keres screamed, and from the swirling red-silk skirt she was wearing, she pulled what looked like knitting needles. I was surprised at how many of them there were, whistling through the air, striking targets. The men the long needles hit had barely enough time to choke before they went to their knees, screaming.

Grabbing Carice’s hand, Keres ran for the opening in the wall the men had come through, even as more guards appeared there.

Rolling to my feet, I ducked Balon’s second blow as men surged around Cirillo, and I met his gaze for a moment.

“Run,” he yelled before he was lost to view, disappearing under a wave of guards.

I hadn’t left him the first time. I’d gone back. I would have thought he’d know me better by now.

Charging across the room, I hit a man in the back, and he flew into Cirillo, knocking him and several others to the ground. To my horror, I saw they were diving for his chest and throat like they wanted to bite him. I couldn’t imagine I’d ever clear that image from my mind.

Shoving and pushing, finally freeing Cirillo enough so he could reach the spatha he’d put under the couch, when he swung and sliced one of the men’s head’s off, on cue, the others dived for him, looking to drink the blood.

Balon was screaming at them to secure me and Cirillo, but we bolted toward the same opening Keres and Carice had run through.

Inside the dark hallway was a door, and then another right beside it. The moment I opened the second one, five men were on us.

I ducked so Cirillo had room to swing the sword, which was more like hacking in the tight space. Once we were through, having to walk over fresh corpses, we reached a larger space—probably the room where the men gathered before they made their way through the corridor, single file, to reach our room.

Keres and Carice had been hugging the side of the dark room, and the way they unfolded from the wall reminded me of spiders, and I shivered involuntarily. I hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and my mind was playing tricks on me.

“Something’s wrong,” Cirillo rasped. “I feel sluggish and slow.”

Their faces were all ghoulishly elongating, and I had to breathe through my nose.

“We’ve been drugged,” Keres confirmed my fears. “It was probably whatever wood was burning in the fire.”

Since I’d been the only one who ate anything but they were all feeling the effects, that had to be right.

There were two ways out of the room.

“Which way?” I asked Cirillo, who looked normal one moment, and as though he had twenty eyes the next. “And for the record, I’m trippin’ balls.”

“It will wear off now that we’re away from the smoke.”

I really hoped so.

Keres said the path to the left was less used—she could, she assured us, smell the difference. Since I trusted her, we went that way, Cirillo first, then Keres, then Carice, and finally me. He armed me with a hand axe he stole from one of the guards we’d had to walk over—there was no room in the corridor to step around them—and I was holding on to the weapon for dear life while at the same time praying I wouldn’t have to use it.

Why there were so many small rooms where we had to open and close doors, I didn’t understand, and I asked Cirillo when we stopped and he had us crouching on the ground.