Read Online The Traitor's Heir by Anna Thayer - Free Book Online Page B

them. He blinked hard and a terrible veil was lifted from his sight.
    His friend’s face was wracked with pain as he gripped her about the neck. His other hand had somehow wrested the knife from her and held it fast, ready to use it.
    With a cry of horror Eamon dropped the blade and let go of her. His chest heaving, he stared at her. She clutched her arm to her breast. A dark trail ran from her fingers to her elbow.
    She bled.
    â€œAeryn?” he whispered dumbly, trembling.
    She stared at him, corpse-pale. Eamon reached out to her.
    â€œAeryn, I’m sorry, I didn’t –”
    Before he could finish she was gone. He was left numb and alone.
    With a shuddering breath Eamon looked down. The mark of the throned pulsed thickly in his hand.
    He wasn’t sure how long he stood amidst the crumpled sheets gazing vacantly at the doorway. He tried to recapture what Aeryn had said, but his thoughts always turned to her betrayal and her hatred of everything that he was. She had disavowed him. There was a ridge between them that he could not cross. His duty forbade it.
    What was he thinking? Aeryn had not betrayed him, even if she had not warned him of what she knew…
    But wasn’t that exactly how she had betrayed him?
    He shook his head. There were thoughts within his thought, thoughts that did not seem to be his own – could never have been his own. Why had he hurt her?
    Her talk of marks was nothing but the talk of disaffected traitors. There had probably never been a king over the River. His father had told him they were just stories. Why should he disbelieve his father?
    And yet…
    And yet the town of Edesfield was all about him; in the cool midnight he could almost hear the stones speaking.
    He left. However many ruthless opportunists had been on the prowl that night he saw no trace of them as he walked back down Bury’s Hill.
    He needed rest in his own bed. He would need to report to the captain in the morning, to get news of his posting if nothing else. Would he report what he had seen and heard that night?
    He did not know if, when he faced Belaal’s dark eyes, he would have a choice.
    For the second time that night he reached his door and fumbled for his keys. He was just slotting them into the lock when he became aware of a figure in the shadow of the lane. He looked up warily.
    â€œWho’s there?”
    A sequence of strange moaning noises came from somewhere in the dark. “The Beast of Mirewell!” came the theatrical answer.
    As Eamon peered, Ladomer stepped up beside him. “It’s only me, Ratbag!” he said, playfully doffing his shoulder. But Eamon could not smile.
    â€œWhat’s the matter with you?” Ladomer asked, assessing Eamon’s face with concern. “You look as though death himself had been and shaken your hand as preliminary to his day’s business!” Drawing himself up in a spectral fashion, Ladomer reached out and did exactly that.
    At last, Eamon laughed faintly. “It’s been a long night, Ladomer.”
    â€œTelo?” Mournfully, Ladomer shook his head. “I wasn’t there. Belaal sent me to run some messages to the post as soon as the swearing had finished. I’m glad I didn’t have to see it,” he added, his face growing grim. “I don’t know what I would have done.”
    â€œNo,” Eamon murmured. Guilt twisted its long knife another wrenching turn in his gut.
    â€œHave you seen Aeryn?” Ladomer asked, his look a worried one. “I saw her briefly at the swearing, but with what has happened perhaps we ought to –”
    The compulsion to lie was overwhelming. “I haven’t seen her.”
    â€œWell, she’s a tough one,” Ladomer mused. “I dare say she’ll bear it.”
    â€œAssuming that they don’t arrest her, too.”
    â€œEamon!” Ladomer laughed. “The Gauntlet wouldn’t arrest someone unless they had reason to,