Sonal shrugged. “I don’t remember him.”
Anger crept across her skin. But what could she do here? She turned and strode back toward the castle. She needed to find him.
Behind closed doors and away from her guard, Norah paced the room.
“Do you think they did something?” she asked her maid. “Do you think something’s happened to him?”
“Don’t you see?” Vitalia whispered. “The lord commander sends you a message.”
A lump rose in her throat. That was exactly the kind of message the lord commander would send. “Do you think Bremhad is all right?”
“I don’t know, but if the lord commander was involved…” Her words trailed off.
Norah’s heart raced. This was her fault. She had to help him. “Where would they take him? What would they do?”
Vitalia shook her head. “I don’t know. Will you go to Salar?”
“I can’t go to him on suspicion alone. He already thinks I judge the commander too hastily. And the brute would deny it.” Then Bremhad might disappear forever.
“I have many friends in the castle, Your Majesty. I can try to find out what happened.”
Norah prayed she could.
Chapter forty-one
“Please don’t be angry,” Vitalia said in a hushed voice. The setting sun cast long shadows across the hall as they walked.
“Why would I be angry?” Norah followed her maid toward her sanctuary. She hadn’t visited it since Mikael had given it to her. It was for when she wanted to be alone, and to be left alone, he’d told her. Aside from her suffocating guard, she hadn’t felt that way.
Vitalia didn’t answer.
Had she found out what had happened to Bremhad? Norah didn’t dare ask within earshot of her guard, who’d likely helped in whatever devious plan the commander had.
The guard stopped at the end of the hall, as they weren’t permitted within it, and Norah and her maid continued to the sanctuary. Vitalia’s breath came faster now, nervously. It made Norah’s quicken as well. What news did she have?
They stepped inside, and Vitalia closed the door behind them.
Norah couldn’t wait any longer. “Did you find out what happened to Bremhad?”
Vitalia clenched her hands, wringing them nervously. Then her eyes darted over Norah’s shoulder. Norah turned, and she startled at the man standing in the doorway of the side bath chamber.
“Who are you?” she demanded of the man. “What are you doing here?” No one was allowed in the sanctuary.
“It’s Kiran, Your Majesty,” Vitalia said quickly. “I brought him. I’m sorry. This is the only place I could think of that was private enough.”
Norah hadn’t recognized the guard without his head wrap; she’d only ever seen his eyes. She looked closer. Yes, she knew those eyes. They were kind eyes. But now, troubled.
He was different from how she’d imagined him. Older—perhaps a couple years older than she was. A trenched scar ran from just under the inside of his right eye and down over his cheek to his jaw. A second scar claimed the space over his left eye and channeled back into his shoulder-length black hair that was tied from behind. Perhaps they’d been from the same injury. Unlucky. Or lucky, depending on how one looked at the situation.
“Bremhad is his father,” Vitalia said.
Norah let out a breath. She saw it now—the resemblance.
Kiran shifted uneasily, the muscle tightening underneath his inked skin. This was a secret—a secret he protected.
“Bremhad has been thrown in the dungeon,” her maid added.
“There’s a dungeon?” As it rolled off her lips, she knew it was a stupid question. Even Mercia had a dungeon.
Kindly, Vitalia only nodded. “Kiran’s planning to break him out.”
He shot her maid an angry glare. “You said you wouldn’t tell her that.”
“You can trust her,” her maid pressed.
Norah gaped at him. “Break him out of the dungeon? You can’t do that.”
“I’m a warrior of the Crest. I can.” His courtesies were gone. But she didn’t fault him. Anger and fear drove him now. And he was right, he probably could get his father out, with some planning. He was an elite member of the Crest, skilled beyond any prison guard.
“No, Kiran, listen to me. This isn’t the way. If you break him out, you won’t be able to stay here. You’ll have to leave, to flee. You’ll both be hunted.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t do nothing. And once they know he’s my father, they’ll know my papers are fake. I’ll be thrown in there with him.”
She quieted as her mind raced. He’d faked his status to be eligible for the army. She clutched her own hands. This complicated things. “Regardless, you can’t break him out.”
How quickly the kindness in his eyes changed to aggression. “I won’t let him die down there because he made a mistake.”
Confusion filled her. “What mistake?”
Kiran hesitated, then he said, “Speaking to you in the Northern tongue.”
“Why would that be a mistake?” She knew the answer before she’d even finished the question. She scoffed in frustration. “Because the commander wants me to think that only a few can understand me. Better to spy on me, I see.”
Kiran didn’t confirm it. But he didn’t deny it.
“Let me take care of this,” she said. “I’ll have your father released.”
Kiran straightened, but he cast his gaze to the side with his lips tight and drew in a cynical breath.
“Do you not believe me?”
He looked back at her. “I believe you’ll try.” He didn’t think she could.
“Kiran, please. Let me help you before you do something rash. Do you not love your life here?”
“I love my father more,” he said.
Emotion swelled within her. Had she loved her own father this strongly? She reached out and clasped his arm. “Kiran, please. I promise you I’ll get him out.”
The silence was long and agonizing. But Kiran sighed, relenting. He gave a short nod.
She pursed her lips into a reassuring smile.
“Wait until we’ve gone,” Vitalia told him. “We’ll take the guard with us, and you can leave unseen.”
He gave a small nod. “Thank you.”
Morning couldn’t come soon enough. Captain Artem had been on a task outside the city, and Norah had to wait for his return. Her stomach twisted at the thought of having to talk to him, but she didn’t dare take the matter to the commander. She’d never see Bremhad again.
She strode toward the stables with her guard close behind. Kiran was among them. Her heart hurt for him. Surely it was all he could do to act unaffected, as no one knew Bremhad was his father. His nearness didn’t help her own anxiousness.
She found Artem walking out just as she was approaching. He held his helm under his arm and his gloves neatly in his hand. Her brow stitched down. He didn’t even appear to have traveled; his armor was still clean.
“North Queen,” he greeted.
But she didn’t care for his greeting, and she didn’t care to offer one back. “You’ll release the greenskeeper,” she said firmly.