If the kenarang was shocked by the attack, he didn’t show it. Before Fulton’s body hit the floor, his own blade had whispered from its sheath. He held it level between them in a type of hybrid low guard Valyn didn’t recognize. Il Tornja’s eyes flitted to the dead guardsman, to the trapdoor behind him, then back to Valyn. Valyn could smell Adare’s grief and panic, could feel it deep in his lungs. From Ran il Tornja, however, there was nothing. He might have been made from the stone beneath his feet. The man looked calm, ready, which suited Valyn just fine. This was better than a bolt in the heart. He was looking forward to shattering that calm, to taking the bastard apart one finger at time.

“Valyn hui’Malkeenian,” the kenarang said. His voice was smooth as brushed velvet.

Valyn opened his mouth to respond, but Adare shoved her way forward, putting herself between them, arms stretched out as though her slender hands could hold back the blades.

“No, Valyn!” she screamed, staring at the crumpled body of the guard. “Oh sweet ’Shael, Fulton!”

“He’s dead,” Valyn said, his own voice flat, emotionless.

“No,” Adare said, stepping across the fire pit, collapsing to her knees beside the Aedolian. “No! Why?”

Valyn didn’t look down, but he could hear her scrabbling pointlessly at the man’s armor behind him, as though she could find the wound, could stanch the flow of blood.

“He might have been part of it,” Valyn said, stepping forward. “A part of the plot. The men who came for Kaden were all Aedolians.”

“He wasn’t part of anything,” she wailed. “All he did was try to keep me safe!”

“Well, he knew what he was signing up for.” Maybe the man was guilty. Maybe he was innocent. It didn’t matter. A lot of innocent people had died already.

“You’ve made a mistake, Valyn,” il Tornja said, not lowering his guard.

Valyn took a half step to the left, and the kenarang turned with him, adjusting the angle of his blade. Valyn moved right, two steps, and again il Tornja adjusted, the movements subtle but precise. So. The man could keep his cool during an attack, and he knew how to fight.

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes,” Valyn said. “But this isn’t one of them. You murdered my father. You ripped out the heart of Annur, and I’m going to rip out yours.”

“He just saved Annur!” Adare spat. “This fight, this battle, this whole fucking thing . . . we won because of him!”

“And now that we’ve won,” Valyn said, keeping his eyes on the kenarang, testing his responses to changes in guard, posture, “we are finished with him.”