Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,46

on the Torlere Road, Your Grace.”

It struck Loth as an odd thing for their pursuer to say. He clenched his hand more tightly around the handle of the meat cleaver, wondering if he stood any chance at all against a sword, and very much doubting it.

Quinn lifted his chin. “Ser Greylord.”

It took Loth a moment to recall that he’d heard the name before. The Shire Reeve at Delacourt and, no doubt, a man very invested in tracking down any prisoners who escaped from his dungeon cells. Especially when one of those prisoners was the crown prince.

Loth felt anger burn low in his gut, simmering like a pot on a stove. This was the man who’d imprisoned Quinn. The man who’d been responsible for the wretched condition Quinn had been in when Loth had met him—pale and too thin, his bones jabbing at his skin as though they were searching for a way to escape.

“I’m afraid I heard everything you said,” Ser Greylord said. “I too, have a son. Younger than you, Your Grace. Twelve, now. When I was rewarded by Lord Doom with a position in his guard, my boy was sent elsewhere to live. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you, Your Grace?”

Quinn’s mouth was a thin line, and then he answered. “I think so.”

“And so you escape,” Ser Greylord said, “through no fault of mine, and so you are supposed to be on an entirely different road, while I search this one.”

Loth’s brain ground to a halt, like a river freezing over.

“For all of that,” Ser Greylord said, “I’m glad our paths crossed because I fear you should not go to Callier. I sent a bird to Lord Doom to tell him of your escape.” He shook his head. “When I received his reply, he did not sound surprised.”

“So it’s a setup,” Loth said. “Everything has been a setup, just as we thought.”

“Not everything,” Ser Greylord said. “You were supposed to be on the other road! Only a bunch of crazed fools would cut through the Swamp of Death! You’re supposed to be miles and miles away from here!”

He sounded a little frustrated, and Loth couldn’t blame him. The man had clearly done his best to not catch them, and, like a bunch of drunken, determined geese, they’d staggered into his path anyway.

“Well, if you’re such a good guy,” Loth said, “then why the hell was Quinn in such gods awful shape when he was broken out?”

Quinn put a hand on Loth’s forearm but didn’t take his eyes off Ser Greylord. “He’d only been there a few months, Loth. There was another reeve before him. My rations increased under Ser Greylord’s... hospitality.”

“I don’t believe him,” Loth said. “I don’t believe he’s our benefactor.”

“I’m not,” Ser Greylord said. “But I suspect we have the same one. Someone put coin into the hands of those who would rescue you. That same person put coin into my hands, to ensure that the chase would be slow, and down the wrong road. I was not given a name, except to say that the prince still had friends in Callier, men who would restore his rightful throne to him, and rid the kingdom of Doom.” He inclined his head. “Except now I have reason to suspect, at least, that all is not as it appears, and that perhaps your life is in more danger now, out here on the open road, than it was in Delacourt.”

“I still don’t believe him,” Loth said. He stared at Ser Greylord. “You said you have a son, yes? Being held as a hostage to ensure your compliance. He’s twelve, you said?”

Ser Greylord held his gaze. “Yes, and I fear he is no longer safe.”

Loth’s chest squeezed.

“Doom is unhinged,” Ser Greylord said. “More and more, he dangles my boy’s fate in front of me, and I do not trust him when he is displeased.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. He looked at Quinn. “Thus, if there is anything good that can come out of all this, I wanted it to be you, Your Grace, because you do not seem like the sort who earns loyalty with a knife at the throat of a child. I do not hope to gain your trust here tonight, but please, travel cautiously, because you cannot know if it’s a friend or a foe waiting for you in Callier.”

Quinn stepped forward, and Loth caught him by the elbow.

“We need to leave,” he said firmly.

Quinn held his gaze.

“We need to leave,”