“Let’s see what he tries to do tonight,” Luykas said, humming thoughtfully. “We might learn where he hides his spy stuff. I want to know how he’s doing it. Is it a book like the ones we use?”
“I hope not, but it’s the best option,” Nevyn said, shrugging. “I would hate for Learen to be in the middle of a network of spies.”
Luykas nodded. He didn’t disagree.
“No,” Senri hissed. “We get him, and we get him now.”
“Senri—”
“Kian,” she whispered. “He killed Kian. He’s the reason Mave isn’t here, off getting herself killed on a Skies damned quest to piss off a goddess. He’s the reason for Leshaun! HE IS GOING TO DIE!” she roared. “I don’t care how he did it! You can figure it out afterward. We don’t need him alive anymore. I want the fullest execution the Andinna allow. That is my right to demand, and it will be done!”
Luykas nodded slowly. It was her right, her ancient right as the female who lost a husband. She could demand any penance she pleased, especially since the murderer was a male. If it had been a mativa or a female with a family, things would be a little different, but this was clear. A male killed her husband, so that male’s fate belonged to her and her alone. Not even Mat, who lost an uncle and his last blood relative, could override her if he had been around. Alchan wouldn’t have even tested her in this moment.
“Then we go,” Luykas said softly. “Execute Learen of the Andinna for treason and murder. Trevan, with me. We’re doing this the slow way. Nevyn, Varon, you know what that means.”
Walking out, the Elvasi fell in step beside him like any great Andinna warrior. They went for the supply caravan, but Learen was gone. Luykas turned, knowing Nevyn and Varon flew above them. There was a specific way these executions happened. They were almost always done in war camps and villages like the one where they were. Very rarely did someone charged with treason make it back to the queen. It was handled swiftly and without mercy. Luykas had seen this happen only twice before in his lifetime.
They found Learen in the war room, whistling softly as he worked in the books…but there was a new book.
Ah, you’ve grown bold without Dave watching you. Fucking piece of shit.
“Did you think we all went to bed?” Luykas asked softly.
Learen looked up and paled but smiled, anyway.
“Yeah? I’m just trying to update our supply logs,” Learen said with a smile.
Oh, shit, he’s good. Was he coached? Or is he that cunning?
Or is this not his first time performing the act?
Olost. Learen’s visit. The attack on their village afterward.
“How long?” Luykas asked softly.
“How long have I been here? I don’t know…I’ve burned the candles—”
“How long have you been spying for the Elvasi?” Luykas demanded in a roar that made furniture shake.
Learen’s smile changed from false to downright evil.
“Since I realized it was the only way to make you hurt as much as I had. She always told me I could get in touch with her when I realized you were at fault for all of this. Not just anyone, Luykas. You. Her own fucking son. You turned your back on her and started all this. I lost my hand for you. We lost the war because of you. You, who could have stopped the war sooner if you helped her. We would be citizens of the Empire instead of what we are now!”
“You have lost your mind,” Luykas whispered, seeing the blazing fury. “She has played you. She’s always been good at piano, but I think she played you like her favorite instrument, the harp. She’s made you sing with a simple lie because you didn’t have a mind strong enough for her. When did you flip, Learen?”
“When you came back from attacking Elliar and freeing Mat and Rain, completely unharmed. And her…that Champion all of you love so much. You went and pissed her off for your own reasons, knowing it would blow back on all of us. You and Alchan never cared about anyone except your favorites.”
Luykas licked his lips and tasted magic. His mother had put a deep and powerful spell on him years ago. The moment she got desperate, she had sprung her trap. Shadra had always loved games, and they had played a long one for a thousand years, tit for tat