Bonesmith (House of the Dead, #1)(111)

They had barely settled into the chairs by the hearth when an additional wave of servants arrived. Leo’s water was soon replaced with wine, and he was given a thick woolen blanket, produced out of nowhere.

Leo shrugged and spread his hands wide as if to say “see, told you so,” as pillows were stuffed into his already soft chair and a plate of various meats and cheeses was assembled for him.

Wren, on the other hand, had to reach for her food—though reach she did. She was starving.

“Enough fussing,” Vance said, sounding bored despite his stiff posture, his hands steepled together before him.

The servants retreated, leaving the three of them alone.

“Tell me,” her father said without preamble. “Everything.”



* * *



The beginning of the story was easy enough, though the middle was where things got disjointed as Wren and Leo recalled their different experiences. While Vance didn’t react to Wren’s account of the surprising behavior of the revenants she and Julian encountered, he went unnaturally still as she got to the part about the Breach. She glossed over certain parts, obviously, but she did tell him about the boy and the suit of iron armor. About the well and the strange power it granted him.

“Have you ever heard of anything like that before?” she asked, watching her father closely.

“Iron revenants? Certainly not.”

“No, I meant the well of magic. I thought maybe… during the Uprising…” She trailed off, waiting for him to react. To interject. He didn’t move a muscle. “That you might have seen it. You or Locke. That maybe it was part of how we’d won when we were so outnumbered.”

She was treading dangerous territory with this subject, she knew. If her father was aware, there was a reason he’d concealed it. And to admit she was taking the word of an ironsmith would undercut her argument, even if she had seen the evidence with her own eyes. But she wanted to give her father a chance. Maybe he truly didn’t know. Maybe Locke had separated from the rest of them, and only her uncle knew what had happened that day.

“We were at war, Wren, not exploring ruins.” It was not, exactly, an answer.

“It affected me,” Wren revealed. “Even at a distance. I was able to do things I’d never done before.”

“Such as?”

She swallowed. “The undead… I told them what to do, and they listened.”

“Anything else?” he asked idly, as if the question were of no real importance to him—but the tightness around his eyes betrayed him.

She should tell him about the ring. About the queen’s words. About the pull she felt. The confusion.

“Nothing.”

Leo cut in then, explaining how during his travels, he’d heard rumors of what was happening in the Breach. Of who ruled there. The tale culminated with their paths crossing in Caston, the regent and his alliance with the Corpse Queen.

Vance scrubbed his hands over his face. It was clear some of this, at least, was news to him—but how much?

Eventually he had questions, but they were primarily about the lead-up to the kidnapping and so directed at Leo.

He and Wren had agreed on their journey here not to point the finger at Galen—or anyone—until they had proof to back it up. Leo mentioned his travels before arriving at the Breachfort, including the fact that his previous inspection had been suspiciously cut short and that the tour beyond the Wall was orchestrated by several members of his entourage, Galen among them, and the Breachfort’s own administrators, including Commander Duncan and Odile.

“Wren was chosen for the party, being the only active bonesmith in residence, though traditionally it should be the highest-ranking,” Leo added as if it were an afterthought.

“Odile was sick,” Wren explained, hating the thought that the whole thing had been a lie… not to get her face time with Leo, as Odile had insinuated, but to get her on that patrol so she could be kidnapped.

“Which could be a timely coincidence… or something more,” Vance said gravely. He straightened in his chair. “You’ve both been through a terrible ordeal, and I commend you on your bravery, fortitude, and quick thinking. You’ve earned some rest. As we still do not know for certain who was involved in all this, I will post some of my men outside your door for the night, if that is agreeable to you, Your Highness?”

Leo nodded.

Getting to his feet, Wren’s father opened his chamber door and spoke to his personal guards, who were stationed in the hall. Galen was there, as well, hovering nearby.

“You and I will speak later,” Vance said, interrupting anything Galen might say. He turned to his guard. “I want a full escort to accompany the prince at all times. He should remain in his rooms for the time being.”

“But Lord-Smith Vance, Prince Leopold already has an entire complement of—”

“And no one goes in or out, save for me,” Vance finished, cutting Galen off. “Understood?”

His guard captain nodded, then barked orders.

Leo’s expression was grim—a prisoner again, it seemed—and their eyes met over his shoulder before he was ushered away, the door slamming shut.

“You look pale,” Vance said, passing a critical gaze over his daughter in the sudden silence. While Wren was used to the feeling of him measuring her, there was something distinctly doting about it now that was wholly new.