Chapters (46)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
“Tell that to Bella.” His voice was raw from tears and smoke. Without looking at her, he stood and walked toward the door.
“Flick, don’t go.”
He didn’t, but he didn’t turn around either. Kyra watched him from where she huddled, taking in the curve of his shoulders, his hands as they clenched into fists and unclenched again. She had never seen him so angry.
Kyra retreated into her misery, turning both Flick’s accusations and her own self-recriminations over in her head. She couldn’t lose both him and Bella in one night. For a long time, the only sound in the room was Flick’s breathing.
Finally, he straightened and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Kyra.” He didn’t look at her as he turned toward the door. “It’s just too much to take right now.”
She didn’t call after him to stay.
Twenty-seven
T W E N T Y - S E V E N
Kyra stared at the map in front of her, seeing nothing but refusing to look up. Beside her, Malikel, Tristam, and Martin bent over the parchment, eyes focused on Flick as he recounted the fire for them. Kyra, for her part, avoided looking at Flick as carefully as he avoided looking at her, though she snuck some glances when he wasn’t paying attention. Her jovial friend had aged in the past few days. His face was gaunt, and there were deep circles under his eyes.
“The fires started around midnight,” said Flick. “We smelled smoke and saw the kitchen burning. At first, we thought it was just The Drunken Dog, but then the fire got out of hand and we ran outside. The entire street was in flames.”
“Any idea who started the fires?” asked Malikel. He’d rushed back to Forge upon receiving news of the attack and was now beginning his investigation in earnest.
Flick shot him a disgusted look. “That’s your job to know, in’t it?”
“You’ll address the Minister of Defense with respect,” snapped Tristam.
Martin half successfully hid a long-suffering sigh behind his hands. He caught Kyra looking and grinned. Kyra managed a small smile back, wishing she could laugh about the constant friction between Flick and Tristam as easily as Martin did. Instead, it just wore her down.
“We’re working toward the same goals, Faxon,” said Malikel. “The quicker we can piece together what happened, the quicker we can punish those responsible.”
“My name is Flick.” No one responded. “I didn’t see anyone, but some folks at the market saw masked men with torches.”
“That fits with the Guild,” said Tristam.
Who had started the fire? Alex? Shea? Bacchus? Kyra imagined Rand dressed in black and gripping a torch, a carrot-colored curl peeking out from under his mask. She saw Bella’s pale, ashen face.
“When did the Demon Riders come in?”