they might demand to see Elianne, and if they did, they might keep her.
In the end, he chose to take the biggest risk he had ever taken in his life—and that life included facing Ferals. He sent a message to Castle Nightshade.
* * *
Ybelline could see the spire of that castle; could see the breadth of it, the shadow it cast across the whole of the fief, sunlight notwithstanding. She could see the cages—empty on the night Severn visited—that were meant to display the grisly remains of those who had displeased the fieflord. She could see the gates, and the Barrani who guarded them at all hours of any day. Only when the fieflord chose to venture into the streets of his fiefs did those guards vanish, and their absence was not a good sign for someone like Severn.
The message was verbal. The men to whom it was offered were mortal; mortal thugs, not the Barrani. Against men, Severn was large enough, old enough now, to stand a fighting chance. He had no intention of visiting Castle Nightshade in person; he had seen the use to which those cages were put, and he had no doubt that what was left of him after the fieflord took offense would fit them nicely.
A scuffle did ensue, and knives had been drawn, but no blood had been shed, and no Barrani had intervened to ruin Severn’s day. He offered information to Nightshade about the murders that were even now occurring in the fiefs. A possible lead.
He did not choose to meet Nightshade anywhere near their home—although it would take Nightshade no time to find it, should he choose to do so. But Severn was far more than uneasy now. He was certain that the murders were circling Elianne, terrified that if something wasn’t done, she would die.
Or worse.
Severn labored under no illusion. If a nebulous worse existed, he was not the man to stop it. He had neither the knowledge nor the power; he had the will, but will was not, had never been, enough. Will alone had not saved Elianne’s mother. If anyone could save Elianne, it was Lord Nightshade.
* * *
Lord Nightshade chose to meet him. In possible retaliation for the message and Severn’s refusal to speak directly with the mortals who served Nightshade—in name at least—he had chosen to meet Severn at night. By the south well. The well itself was relatively safe during the day. Nowhere was safe during the night.
Barrani, however, wandered at will at night; the Ferals did not terrify them. Ferals were cunning but seemed constantly hungry—a feeling with which Severn could identify. They were stupid enough to attack Barrani; they weren’t—even in a pack—powerful enough to survive their stupidity. It was almost as if they were mortal and not of the shadows across the fief’s interior borders.
Severn approached Nightshade. When he was three yards away, he fell to his knees. This allowed him to bow his head, to school his expression.
“Rise,” the fieflord said, as if this abasement was both expected and irrelevant. “You are not familiar with the subtleties of court gestures, court language; I will dispense with them for now. For this one evening—and from you—formality is neither required nor desired. You will not be considered lacking in appropriate respect.”
Severn rose. He kept his hands loose but by his sides. He had daggers—the guards had not removed them—but they were irrelevant when confronting Barrani. Especially this one. Severn suspected that the lack of inspection was due in large part to that fact: relieving Severn of weapons somehow implied that Severn could be a threat.
He had rehearsed on the way here. He had composed his opening statement, his story, the answers to the questions he thought might be asked. The cold blue of Barrani eyes made remembering any of them difficult. He gave up on them.
“Are these murders happening in any other fief?”
The guards closest to Severn stiffened but didn’t cuff the side of his face or force him to his knees; Lord Nightshade had made clear that he would consider very little impertinent.
“That is an interesting question. It is not the one I expected, although I confess I had little in the way of expectation. It was made clear to me that you were both mortal and young.”
“And you expected I’d have nothing to offer.”
“I considered my presence a reward for your boldness. It is not often that I am...called out of the castle. You are not wealthy; you are not owned; you