Thread of Darkness

Ch. 23: i thought Shambles was having stomach cramps

Ryne looked around the burning village.

Flames licked the candy-coloured tents, melting pots and little silver spoons. Everything smelled of charred cotton. The air felt thick, steel bars that you had to prise apart with your hands, and Ryne raised a sleeve to his mouth as he travelled further into the market.

Something crunched under his feet.

Human bones, from the look of it.

Aedyon was shouting, ushering people towards wagons. His Commander-of-the-Guard was sweating profusely, his face flushed and shiny. Several guards were throwing buckets of water over burning tents. Anna was squatting near a lopsided wagon, speaking to a young boy carrying a red lollipop.

Ryne looked away.

A knot tangled in his chest. He wished she'd stayed at Stillwater Castle. Wished she'd never come with him. But it was Annalise Cidarius, and she'd grown up gambling and drinking and flirting in Grim's Marketplace. This village had raised her. He should have known, Ryne thought warily, that she was incapable of letting it suffer alone.

"Ryne!" a voice called.

He closed his eyes.

Bloody perfect. Just what he needed.

"Eris," Ryne said.

His cousin was striding toward him, a sword slapping his side. The weapon was new. Shiny. Not, Ryne thought, that he was surprised; Eris wasn't the type to meticulously clean his weapons every evening. If a sword became tarnished or dull, he threw it away. Everything was replaceable to his cousin. Weapons. Clothes. Even people.

"That makes six," Eris said.

"Seven," Ryne corrected.

Eris paused. "What?"

"Seven burned villages," Ryne said. "Including Emula last week." He leaned against a carriage, crossing his arms. "You look surprised."

Eris rested a hand on his sword. "I didn't realize the Council was keeping you abreast of current affairs."

"I'm the King," Ryne said. "I keep the Council abreast of current affairs." He glanced towards the wagons. "Did you need something?"

"The people are frightened," Eris said. "They want the Nightweavers that did this caught and punished. I would recommend a public hanging."

When Ryne spoke, his voice was measured. "I think we both know that this wasn't a Nightweaver."

They observed each other.

Eris's eyes narrowed. He had the Delafort eyes: a bright, arresting green. Penny had them too, Ryne thought, although his sister's eyes were warmer somehow. Kinder. Like light filtering through summer leaves.

"Careful, cousin," Eris said. "That sounded like an accusation."

Ryne lifted a shoulder. "Simply a statement."

Eris shifted his sword. "There are rumours, you know. Your flirtation with Annalise Cidarius, the fact that you haven't caught Sophie Holloway in four months... people are starting to think you sympathize with the Nightweaver cause."

"The thing about rumours," Ryne said, "is that they require someone influential to spread them." He shifted, the bones crunching beneath his feet. "I heard you've been spending a lot of time in pubs. It was the Blue Swan yesterday, wasn't it? Excellent jam tarts. I hope you tried one."

Eris's mouth curled. "Are you spying on me?"

"Well, not personally." Ryne waved a hand. "You're not very interesting. And I don't have the time."