was no need. The first freezes on Koth never last through the night. A heartwind blew from the south and all I smashed were puddles.”
Before trudging back across the Walk, to the carnage that was all that remained of her father, her soldiers. And there Aerax had found her among them, cradling her father’s body and wishing that she were dead, too.
“Do you see, then, why this is such a difficult tale to believe?” Degg the Red said. “These wraiths came from nowhere. They vanished to nowhere. And they left no trace.”
“If the bodies of a thousand soldiers are not trace enough, you bum-birthed scut, then look to my face,” Lizzan snapped.
“Or look to me,” said Aerax, and her heart leapt into her throat. “All that she says is true. I was there near dawn, and not a sign of the wraiths did I see until I reached the bridge. From there, the ground was torn up with their tracks as they escaped across the Walk, but the sign ended not far into the forest. If you did not see the bits of melting ice nearby, it would seem as if they’d vanished.”
Lips parted, Lizzan stared at him with a thousand emotions churning in her breast. Astonishment, for that speech was the longest she’d ever heard him say in the presence of other people. Joy, for he had finally spoken on her behalf. Anger, for it had taken him so long.
And bemusement. “You will help to clear my name now? This might be the fastest reward that anyone on a quest has ever received.”
Though her task was not done. Nor would it be, until the first snow fell. She was still on a path to die in glorious battle . . . because her reward would not truly come so soon, no matter what Aerax said on her behalf. Not if the mutter she heard from Uland about a prince hoping to wet his cock was any indication. Koth would not believe their feral prince, either—the council would make sure no one believed it. Aerax had been right when he’d said they’d already made up their minds. Yet still. It would have meant everything if he’d spoken for her before.
Faintly she heard Riasa ask, “Were there any other attacks this past winter?”
“There were not,” Aerax said, still holding Lizzan’s gaze as all the emotions within her settled into a familiar pair—hurt and frustration.
“If these wraiths are a concern to Krimathe, then I daresay we are meeting at the right time,” Lady Junica said. “Your warriors could arrive in Koth before the end of summer—”
“Why did you not say this in front of the court?” Lizzan demanded of Aerax, and the table fell silent. She had not meant to interrupt. But she was a little drunk, and that had been a little loud, and she had little care. “Why wait until now?”
His expression darkened as it did when he recalled a memory that still angered him. “Because you are no longer in Koth,” he said. “So you are safe.”
“Safe? From what?”
His jaw hardened. “My uncle.”
King Icaro? Bewildered, she stared at him. “What would he have done to me?”
“Executed you. I told him what I had seen. He knew you spoke the truth. But he feared that talk of wraiths would stir a panic, and would have sacrificed you to prevent it. So I traded my silence for your life.” His gaze searched her face, his eyebrows drawn. Abruptly he leaned toward her, voice fierce and low. “You truly believed that I held my tongue because the council had already made up their minds? With all the evidence of the years you have known me, did you not realize that only the promise of saving you could have compelled me to remain silent?”
Her throat closed. Aerax threw her words to Uland back at her—and perhaps he was right. All the years she had known him said that he would have spoken for her. But there were many years she had not known him.
“After you went to the palace,” she told him in a hoarse voice, “you did not let me know you at all. You gave me little to believe in.”
Something bleak moved across his expression, dimming the fierce light in his eyes. He nodded and sat back. “That is true.”
And it was a truth that hurt him. Because unlike the words of people he cared nothing for, Lizzan’s words could run him through.