Wicked Saints (Something Dark and Holy #1) - Emily A. Duncan Page 0,45

failed? That was rich. Serefin had to stifle the smile threatening to slip through his mask of composure.

“A rogue Kalyazi group who can stand against the Vultures?”

“They apparently had a defected Vulture in their midst.”

Serefin let out an incredulous laugh. “A traitor? Do we know who it was?”

Izak shook his head. Serefin glanced at Przemys?aw.

“The Vultures have been as they always are,” Przemys?aw said. “Recalcitrant about their dealings. We were informed one of their number had fled. He was a boy who had a difficult transition into their order. His indoctrination was messy. His family are members of the court so extra precautions had to be taken to ensure there were no residual attachments nor capabilities of recognition. From what I understand, they used new methods when indoctrinating him. Painful methods.”

“So, we have nothing!” Serefin said cheerfully.

“Serefin!” Izak snapped, casting him such a dark look that he felt like turning and bolting out of the room.

This is worse than I feared.

“The Vultures sent were young,” Przemys?aw said slowly. “They were bewildered to see one of their own amongst enemy rabble, though that brings up questions of their training—”

“Their training is fine,” a new voice cut in. The Vulture slunk forward. His mask was a visceral affair; jagged edges cut into the leather made it look like it was dripping blood.

“Then why isn’t the cleric here now?” Serefin asked.

The Vulture stepped closer to Serefin. “We do not answer to you,” he said, voice low.

“No,” Serefin replied, “of course not. You just can’t offer any explanation as to why one of your own was found with a Kalyazi cleric.”

“When our king realized the extraction had gone badly, he had them return to better decide how to deal with the girl,” the Vulture said. He turned away from Serefin to address the king. “I assure you, everything will be handled as it should.”

“See that it is,” Izak said. “I cannot spare another visit to your Salt Mines so soon.”

Serefin stiffened. Why would he go to the Salt Mines at all?

“I should have gone after her,” Serefin muttered.

The Vulture turned but the king spoke over him.

“You should do as you’re told.” Again, a lace of venom. An erratic swing from ice to hot anger.

“Father?” Something slipped in Serefin and his voice was no longer composed. Less the blood mage general and more the boy who wasn’t sure what was happening and still—after all these years—didn’t understand why he had been shoved aside to fight a war he barely believed in. It was a moment of weakness he immediately regretted.

He didn’t know what he expected from his father. A second of silent understanding? Something to assuage his fears?

He received only his father’s cold, dismissive glance. His father continued as if nothing had happened.

“We are allowing three weeks before the Rawalyk begins for the proper delegates to arrive. Until then, your time is your own.”

Serefin nodded. “Thank you.” What am I supposed to do for three weeks? Especially under the watch of the entire palace. Serefin knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he turned to go.

“Serefin,” his father called after him. He turned back, some part of him lifting with hope that perhaps this was when his fear would be dispelled, that his father would smile and welcome him home like a son, not an interloper. But all he said was, “Your mother is in Grazyk. You should speak with her.”

And something in his tone chilled Serefin utterly. Panic flared in Serefin’s chest. “Of course, Father, right away.”

There was his reconnaissance. Now it was time for strategy.

When he stepped out of the throne room, Kacper was waiting by the door. He was leaning against the wall, picking at his fingernails and ignoring the guards, who were studiously ignoring him in turn.

“How bad was it?”

Serefin glanced at the guards and inclined his head down the hallway. Kacper trailed along behind him. Where could they go to speak freely?

Nowhere in this damn palace is safe, Serefin thought.

“I have concerns,” Serefin finally replied, pausing in the hallway and looking out the window.

Kacper paled.

Serefin considered his mother’s return to Grazyk. She would not have come just for the Rawalyk, he knew that much. He wished he could speak with her about his father, but Izak Meleski would know. She would not tell him, but he would know. Serefin ran an absent thumb down the scar on his face. If his mother was back she would have brought her witch back with her. The witch’s tower might be safe