us, Westin, no matter how we’ve tried to keep it from our borders.”
Nic grabbed the ends of the long table and did his best not to lean forward and put his head on the smooth, dark wood. He was exhausted from his emotional journey in the last day. In only hours, he had traveled from worry and agitation over Aron, to elation at being with Dari, to distress at being confined when Stone’s visitors arrived, to anxiety at meeting dynast lords like Lord Cobb and Lord Ross. Real men, with real purpose and strength and confidence, the confidence a true leader needed to possess as a matter of course. The confidence Nic couldn’t hope to make his own.
That anxiety had given way to joy at seeing Dari so happy to be with her family, fear for Aron all over again, despair when the mourning bells tolled, then elation when Aron came stumbling back through Triune’s gates.
Lord Baldric seemed to share Nic’s fatigue. The Lord Provost’s color had reached peak during his pronouncement that Aron was no murderer, and now his pate had taken on a frightening pallor. “Stone remains neutral, but the war comes to us as well.” Lord Baldric gazed past his guests to the window that looked out over Triune’s grounds. “I have more sheltered here than guild fighters. These are people who fled the carnage, only to have it pursue them even though they thought they had reached safety within these walls.”
“We won’t allow the battle to reach your gates.” Lord Cobb’s voice was earnest and his eyes were kind, but Nic heard the note of uncertainty.
Lord Baldric’s grunt confirmed that he, too, knew such a promise was futile. “And how will you stop it? Every army in Eyrie is driving toward us, intent on laying claim to our lands, our loyalty, and our resources. They’ll be here within the week—two at most.”
“Because of me,” Aron said, and the pain in his voice was more than Nic could bear.
“It’s not because of you, Aron.” Nic scrubbed his palms on the table. “It’s because of me.”
“No one knows—” Dari began, but Nic couldn’t let her finish. He forced himself to look directly into Aron’s sapphire eyes as he spoke.
“This war would have had no beginning if I hadn’t died. If I hadn’t remained dead in the minds of the people even after I recovered.” Nic couldn’t quite believe what he was saying, or how much he felt it, meant it, at every level of his being. “It was a mistake—a selfish decision that ended thousands of lives, and caused more suffering than I can stand to consider. I must set it right as soon as possible, as soon as we determine the best way for me to do so.”
“No one faults you for saving your own life.” Aron straightened his shoulders as he rose to the task of defending Nic. “If you’d returned to the Tree City, the unsanctioned assassins would have made sure to do their task properly. You’d be moldering in some unmarked grave.”
“Rectors.” Nic said, shifting his gaze to Lord Baldric, then to Lord Cobb and Lord Ross. “Rectors pushed me from the castle turret. I believe the same rectors poisoned my father, my brothers, and my sister. Thorn’s madness extends far beyond Eldin Falconer, unless Thorn’s graduates now hire out to the highest bidder. I think the source of Thorn’s dry rot lies directly at its base.”
When he realized everyone at Lord Baldric’s table was listening to him, Nic found he couldn’t draw a full breath. He felt his cheeks flush, and his eyelids fluttered as he resisted a wave of anxiety strong enough to trigger one of his fits. His fingers skittered as he moved them along the table, and his voice deserted him.
“Thorn has already collected many children with powerful legacies,” Aron said, sounding more like himself. “They’ve taken them in the open, and I believe they’ve stolen them in the night as well. Much of the child-swiping blamed on Canus the Bandit might be better laid at Thorn’s gates. I don’t know how they’re using their captives, but they factor into Thorn’s plan, and maybe into the war.” He inclined his head toward Dari, and his features softened. “If you hadn’t saved me, Dari, I’d be part of their schemes.”
“I didn’t save you.” Dari looked confused. “I wanted to. So did Iko and Nic and Stormbreaker and Zed and Raaf—even Windblown spent the night pacing the halls of the Den.”
Now Aron’s